One Mistake

Mary lay still, trying to conserve what little energy she had left. To be honest she had little movement available to her but she had been struggling now for over 36 hours with no effect. There had to be an answer to this predicament. She just had to work it out. In the mean time she must stay calm and still.

Mary was one of Nature’s cruel jokes, a “Plain Jane”. She was flat chested and just a little too plump. Her hair was mousy, straight, and refused to sit in any styling position for more than an hour. She normally wore glasses, having tried contact lenses and found she was hyper allergic to them. No amount of money or style could make her attractive to the male or female sex alike. She was a loner, always had been, probably always would be, assuming she got herself out of this bind that she was in.

With no one else to play with she had had to pleasure herself. It had not taken long for her to decide that she needed some way of spicing it up, self bondage had been the ideal solution. She had spent many hours restrained in some way or other waiting for ice to melt or timers to go off. Her body was accustomed to such mistreatment. Her capacity for pain and discomfort was until now never exceeded. This time she had tried something different. There was no timing device, no automated release, there was no need: there were no locks. All she needed was a knife. She could see the knife if she moved a bit to her left. It was lying on the floor in full view. Unfortunately she was on the bed some 21 inches above it. So near and yet so far! If her arms had been free she could reach out and grab it, but of course, her arms were not free. They were behind her back, held by unforgiving, unyielding, rope

Getting off the bed was not an option. For a start she was in a strict hog-tie which would mean rolling off and either breaking her back or other serious injury. Worse than that she had tethered herself to the iron bed head. She had limited rolling ability but was prevented from rolling off completely. This had been for her own safety, or so she had thought. She knew that she tended to writhe about when tied up so had taken this precaution against rolling too far. She had not considered the possibility of dropping or loosing the knife.

The orgasms had been spectacular. Longer than she had planned but then again she was supposed to be free by now. She had lost count of the number of climaxes before the batteries gave out. The repeated sporadic stimulation had added to her exhaustion. It had been the distraction of the vibrator and her own spasms that had made her drop the knife and sent it sliding oh so slowly to the floor and out of her reach. The vibrator now lay dormant, just one more frustration.

The loss of the knife had not upset her initially. For a start she was still lost in orgasmic euphoria so loosing the knife just meant more orgasms. It was only when the stimulation began to hurt that she seriously started to worry about getting free. In her mind the knife was only a last resort, she did not expect to need it. The reason for changing from rope in the first place was that she had been able to free herself too easily. She had changed to leather cuffs and chains to make escape more difficult. There was always the chance however that the release mechanism would fail and she had no back up system or person to free her. This latest technique had seemed like a better alternative.

She had found this tying method on a web site and it had claimed it to be inescapable. She had not really believed it so the knife had been a precaution. Unfortunately it now seemed the web site was correct. By tightening against the cinch there was no way to reopen the slip knot especially as it had been her own weight that had closed it. She had no way to exert that much pressure on the ropes to open the cinch and the number of turns around each wrist removed all the slack in the rope. After thirty six hours in a strict hog-tie she wished she had been more careful.

The basic tie may have been copied but the “enhancements” were all her own. She may have no breasts to speak of but her nipples were both large and sensitive. She had wrapped several layers around her chest squashing what little breasts she had and ensuring her nipples were permanently being rubbed. To make sure that the rope did not ride up she had tensioned it over her shoulders and down to her waist. It may not have been the most elegant of body ties but it was effective and no one else was supposed to see it. The crotch rope was both functional in holding her vibrator and tortuous in it’s tightness splitting her backside and rubbing it raw. The vibrator was top of the range with intermittent settings to tease and tantalise but sometimes allow satisfaction. She had of course tied her thighs as well as her ankles to keep her legs tight together and the hog-tie made this dig in that little bit more. She was naked except for the ropes. The heating had gone off over night and she had got very cold. She would have to remember that next time, assuming there was a next time.

Long term bondage had brought problems that she had never encountered before. It had only been a matter of time before she had to go to sleep, tied up or not tiredness overtook her. The first night she had been interrupted by the vibrator. By the second night the batteries had died so she had expected to be able to sleep. She had awoken with a jolt and searing pain in the backs of her legs from cramp. She had never felt pain like it. There had been no way for relieve it so she had had to scream and bear it. The screaming made little difference as she had gagged herself as an extra treat. The gag was a breather one to ensure she did not suffocate, which as it turned out had been a good idea. Eventually the pain subsided but the aftermath was still making itself felt many hours later. Then there was the problem of her bladder. It was clear that if she did escape she was going to have to buy a new mattress, this one was soaking wet and ruined. Now her stomach was complaining that it was empty. She would last several days without food but how long could she live without water? Her overnight drink was as tantalisingly close as the knife, only this time it was on her bedside table. Then again she could hardly drink with this great ball wedged in her mouth! It may allow her to breathe but it made drinking virtually impossible.

Who would notice she was missing? She owned her own shop, with staff who were perfectly capable of running it without her. She answered to no one and was not fixed to any sort of routine. She got on well with the neighbours but it was not uncommon for them not to see her for days. Mr Reid might notice that she had not come out but it was doubtful if this would be seen as unusual. What if she was found? It would not take Sherlock Holmes to deduce that she had done this to herself. Then what? The shame, the embarrassment, the explanations, she really did not want this to become public knowledge or local gossip material. No, she had to get out of this on her own, but how? She seemed to have tried everything!

The bed had no sharp edges, of course not. She had tried rubbing the ropes against the bedside cabinet. The only thing that did was make her glass shake, the rope seemed unaffected, not that she could really see it of course. The glass? Could she smash the glass? Could she even reach the glass? Not as she was but she could rock the bedside cabinet? Would it?

The glass fell over. Well it was supposed to. More liquid on the mattress and on her, but not in her mouth of course. The glass rolled around on the top of the cabinet. It was not a completely straight glass so it did not roll straight. It was hard to see and move the cabinet. It hurt her neck. She could only just see it without her glasses. Patience! She had all the time in the world! Patience! Let it roll....

It almost followed the knife onto the floor, almost but not quite. It then took time to manoeuvre it into her grasp. Then?

It is much more difficult to smash a glass than you might expect, especially if you are trussed up like a roasting turkey. She cut herself of course. Well if she was going to die why not bleed to death? Now what to cut? The hog-tie? Or the tether? Probably both.

Have you ever tried to cut a rope with a piece of broken glass? With your hands tied behind your back? With open cuts on your fingers? Nylon Rope? She had to stop several times to rest. Each movement affected one of the tortuous extra ropes but sex was the last thing on her mind now. She was sure that some of the shattered glass had buried itself in her while she rolled about. She would have to miss going swimming for a while until her body healed itself of all these cuts and scratches.

With the hog-tie removed it was relatively easy to slide off the bed. Fortunately she had not crossed her legs, that might have complicated things, if only slightly. The last little bit was a jolt but she was now safely on the floor. The knife was blunt, but it did the job and did not slice her up any further. She looked at the clock: over 48 hours had passed since she toppled over to secure herself. She was hungry, she was thirsty, she needed to sleep and she needed some plasters, but she was alive and nobody would know. Mary was thankful for small mercies. Shame about the mattress.

Next time she would be more careful. No mistakes, not even one little one. Next time she would attach the knife to the bed head. Yes that would do it, but how to stop her reaching it too soon? Maybe scissors? Scissors with the handles tied together? Could she cut the ropes around her hands with scissors? It might be worth a try. What could she lose?

19.01.08