My Own Special Way…?

“Shit”, a moment of panic struck...

…Good fortune had allowed me an early finish from work, and as usual, I had rushed home to entertain myself in my own special way.

My Own Special Way…?

Well, though Sara, my wife knew of my transvestism and was very supportive.  She did not know just how adventurous I was when left to my own devices.  And having an afternoon off work was just the kind of opportunity I looked forward to, to explore the various kinks I had.  Kinks which I would dearly love to talk to Sara about, but I suppose like many others in my situation, I am embarrassed and scared of sharing with Sara the whole truth in case she doesn’t understand, or worse still, in case I loose the woman I love. Well...  this time I may not have the choice of keeping this afternoon's adventure to myself as I’ve just realised my big mistake.

I had arrived home just before lunchtime in my usual excited state, anticipating the afternoon ahead and where my fantasies would take me this time.
Should I wear something casual and catch up on some housework, or should I be a very smart businesswoman wearing my white silk blouse, pencil skirt cut to just above the knee, matching fitted suit jacket, and of course, underneath I’d be wearing my stockings and suspenders.  I love stockings, but not ‘hold ups’, I can’t understand why any woman would want to wear hold ups and deprive themselves of that feeling of suspenders pulling tight against your thighs every which way you move. But this time, no, instead I’m standing here in the lounge of our home wearing tights, yes tights, they do have their uses, especially with mini skirts, something else I love wearing, though not on this occasion.

This time, the complete ensemble consists of a black bra (padded, if you know what I mean!), a pair of black fishnet tights, a shinny black PVC leotard, and finished off with a pair of black patent thigh high boots with 4 inch stiletto heels.  I don’t often blow my own trumpet, but being 5’10” tall without the heels, when I looked in the mirror and saw this long legged PVC clad dominatrix looking back at me... well I felt great.

Sara’s often said that she would love to have legs like mine, and I know that they do look good, but this vision complete with loosely permed shoulder length auburn hair and a 30 minute make up job ending with scarlet red lipstick made me feel terrific.

I don’t think Sara would object to me dressing like this.  In fact, she might get a real buzz out of it.  We both enjoy a better sexual encounter when I’m wearing something like a basque and stockings for bed.  So what’s the problem?   Well, she doesn’t know that I’ve fantasised about wearing this kind of gear, let alone been out and bought it.  The boots alone were nearly £100, and the PVC leotard was over £50.  She might hit the roof if she finds out!

If only I could get changed and wait for the ‘the right time’ to tell her.  Well I can’t, and why can’t I? Because the key to the handcuffs is in the garage. Yes, once I’d got myself dressed and inspected my transformation in the mirror; I was so turned on that I had to do more.

I’ve always liked being tied up.  Even as a child I used to like playing games with hostages and prisoners, and it’s something that I have never grown out of, instead, I’ve learned to use bondage as a valuable and erotic addition to our sex life, yes, I’m very fortunate that Sara also enjoys bondage.

I’ve often made the most of opportunities to tie myself up when I’m in the house alone, and I must say, I think that I have become quite proficient at it.

Many years ago I bought a pair of real police handcuffs from a fetish shop in Soho, London.  It was one of the best investments I’ve ever made, though I must admit, Sara did worry about wearing them because I only had one key.  She even worried about using them on me in case we couldn’t find the key when the game’s over.

It’s never been a problem for me because I trust her not to loose the key when she handcuffs me; and when it’s Sara’s turn to be tied, we use rope in the main, as this is what she prefers, and I have no problem with that.  The truth is that I quite like binding a woman with tight ropes, and I always enjoy seeing the finished job.

My mind is now racing, what can I do to get out of this predicament.

It was just last night that I had decided to do something about Sara’s concerns regarding the handcuffs, and make a spare key.

I spent an hour in the garage and managed to create not one, but two exact copies of the key.  This should surely put her fears to rest, and allow her to feel more comfortable about using the handcuffs in our games. If only I had remembered that I had left all three keys in the garage before snapping the handcuffs shut, I wouldn’t be in this mess now. I can’t even get any clothes on to allow me to get into the garage and retrieve the keys.

What a mess!

The only access to the garage is through the up and over door at the front of the house, there is no other door.  I doubt that I could even open this door if I could get to it. If it was just the handcuffs I might stand a chance, but I’ve done a bit more than that.

The truth is that I’ve put myself into one of my favourite bondage situations.  To start with, I had locked a thick leather posture collar around my neck, I then padlocked a short length of chain to the back of this collar, and in turn, the handcuffs were padlocked to the end of the chain awaiting my wrists.  But before I handcuffed my wrists, I locked a leather cuff around each ankle and hobbled myself by padlocking an 8” chain between each cuff.  This would make walking very difficult.  Walking, you can’t call it walking with your feet chained so close together.

Anyway, once I had chained my feet together, it was then that I sealed my fate.  It was then that I reached up behind my back for the handcuffs and with both wrists in place, I snapped the cuffs shut.  Click, click, and click...  I love the noise of the cuffs closing, the ratcheting sound seems to emphasise the helplessness that I am getting into with each click; only this time, the helplessness was for real.

It took a little time before I realised just what I had done to myself, as my first reaction once chained hand and foot was to re-visit the mirrored wardrobe doors in the bedroom for a look at my latest creation.  

The sight was fantastic, there was the same PVC clad woman I saw fifteen minutes ago, only this time she was enslaved with her feet chained together, and her hands pulled up behind her back, the weight being born by the collar around her neck.  I turned from side to side admiring my work from all the angles that I could manage.  This was undoubtedly my best creation to date. 

I turned and waddled over to the bed, turned back to face the mirror, and lowered myself to sit on the edge of the bed and spend a few minutes fantasising about my situation; what would I do if Sara came home unexpectedly? ...    What if I couldn’t undo the handcuffs? ...    What if someone broke into the house? ...   By this time I was lying on the bed writhing about and in danger of getting too excited in my tights.

Suddenly ‘Ding Dong’, the doorbell shocked me back to reality. 

“Calm down” I whispered to myself; reassuring myself that I was on the inside and whoever was at the door could not get in ‘Ding Dong’ the chime went again.  There was nothing that I could do except to wait for the visitor to leave.  This re-inforced my helplessness and that felt good.  I didn’t even dare to move because of the noise that my hobble chain would make.  

‘Ding Dong’, I found that part of me was getting a kick out of the persistence of this caller, who in effect had me pinned down; my heart was racing, then it dawned upon me the reason for the persistence.  As always, when I get home the first thing I do is to put the radio on for some company.  Though it was fairly quiet upstairs, anyone standing at the front door could probably hear the music.  There was still nothing that I could do, for to get to the radio, I would have to go downstairs, a path that would lead me right before the dimpled glass in the front door.

Waiting ‘til all went quiet, I decided to take on the challenge of silencing the radio.

After a fight to stand up, I shuffled to the top of the stairs; it was a dangerous walk down the stairs as the hobble only just allowed me to make each step if I twisted from side to side while going down. Once at the bottom, I waddled into the living room, and after a lot of wriggling into the corner where the hi-fi unit is, I managed to switch off the radio.

It was on my way back to the stairs that I noticed the garage keys lying on the hall table.  Sara goes mad with me for tossing keys on the table because of the marks they leave; then it struck “shit”, there was a reason for those keys being there, and it wasn’t good. The helplessness that I had been fantasising about suddenly became real; I froze in the hall for a moment and thought about the hole that I had just dug for myself. Although I had the keys to my collar and the hobble chain, they were worthless unless I could release my hands, as I could not reach any of the other locks.

I went back into the living room and sat down to think.

The time was now just turned three and I could see no way out of my predicament.  This being the case, I would be stuck like this until around half five when Sara normally gets home.  The thought of Sara finding me like this really frightened me. What can I do?  I can’t go to the garage in daylight, and it won’t be dark ‘til at least 8pm; dare I chance it under cover of darkness?  Anyway, where could I hide until then? 

Also, chained as I am, it would be impossible for me to put any clothes on to disguise the way I’m dressed. This would mean that were I to venture out to the garage, it would have to be as I was. but what if the person who called comes back while I’m at the garage door, I couldn’t even run back into the house the way I’m chained up.

That idea is a last resort!

Sitting lost in thought, trying desperately to find a way out of this situation, and at the same time, squirming a little with the excitement of fear, I didn’t hear a car pull-up on the drive.  This time, the shock of the doorbell nearly killed me. My heart was pounding in my chest.

Trapped in the living room this time, I again froze, waiting for my captor to leave.

Shit, what the fucks happening, I can hear the sound of keys jingling just outside, someone’s coming in.

Someone… the only other person with a key is Sara.  I look at the clock and it’s only 4pm, this doesn’t make sense?

Oh shit… I’m truly fucked now!

To be continued

10.07.03