I was in San Diego on business. When I checked into the motel they did not have the non-smoking room that I had reserved and they were booked up, so they upgraded me to the “special suite” that was above the lobby. I went to the third floor and went to the lobby end of the hall. My surprise upon opening the door was complete. I would never have expected a somewhat pedestrian motel to have something like this.
The room had a vaulted ceiling that was the inside of the accent roof at the front of the building. It was large, I would guess five-hundred square feet, with a separate kitchen visible across a dining counter on the left and a bathroom with a dressing area and a walk-in closet on the right. The bathroom, closet and dressing area, together, were easily as big as any of the regular rooms in the place. It was all done up in a very contemporary style right down to the king sized platform bed piled high with decorative pillows at its head. All in all it was too impressive not to have company to enjoy it with.
Now I'm not the type to call a service. Not that I'm cheap, but even at my age I still have a certain pride in cocksmanship, so I decided to go to the other side of the Mission Valley Freeway and see if I could pick up one of the Hooters girls. Despite their rigid employee policies, late on a weeknight this is not as difficult a task as you might think. Sitting at the bar I saw immediately that my target for the night was the bartender. She was an attractive, though not stunning, blond, about twenty-six years old, with the air of a girl that had come to California from the mid-west to find fame and fortune. Things had not worked out quite the way she planned, and for the moment, she was working at Hooters Now I'm a bit of a chubby chaser so I didn't mind the fact that she was starting to develop a bit of a roll about her middle, but I knew that it was bothering her so that's what gave me my opening.
I won't tell you what my opening line was, there may be some Hooters girls reading this, but my .500 batting average with it still stands. Anyway, when it became obvious that I had piqued her interest, one of the other girls came over to rescue her by asking if she wanted to go to their lesbian bar after work. Hooters girls and lap dancers are all trained to pretend to be lesbians if a guy is really getting to one of them. I'm sure a few of them really are, but no greater number than the general population. Apparently, most guys are inexperienced enough that this ruse still works. In this case it didn't, however, I still struck out because she had her own excuse. She claimed to have a live-in boyfriend who wouldn't buy any excuse she had for coming home that late after work. She seemed to genuinely regret this because she knew that I intended to make love to her from the bottom up, something that I have found that women who stand at work really appreciate, and her boyfriend seldom spoiled her like that any more. After fifty-three years of having sex (Yes, for those of you with a calculator I did have my first sex experience at age eleven.) you develop a sense of when a woman is telling the truth about something like this, and I felt that she was. This left me to play with myself.
So, when I got back to the motel I took my toy bag out of the trunk. At the time there were various lengths of one-half inch, braided nylon rope, some one-quarter inch rope with brass cinch rings, a ball gag, and various sex toys in the bag. One of my favorite toys when doing self-bondage is a very ingenious penis sleeve with a vibrator that has a vacuum fitting and a pump bulb. A few squeezes of the bulb and it will stay on even if you have gone soft. Picked up that little goody in a shop in London.
When I got back to the room I got naked and set up the scene. First I selected my loops of rope to do a hogtie. The cinch rope for my hands has a slip knot in it for later escape. I set up my backup, a Swiss Army knife with the long blade open, under one of the pillows at the head of the bed. There was a dimmer on the room light switch so I turned off all the lights but the concealed accent lights at the edge of the ceiling, and dimmed them way down. Then, I put on the ball gag, put on the vibrating penis sleeve, pumped it up tight and turned on the vibrator, and quickly, as practiced so many times before, put myself into the hogtie.
I lay there on the bed, bound, enjoying the feeling of complete helplessness, for twenty minutes or so, while the vibrating sleeve slowly brought me to an orgasm. Since the sleeve would not fall off I figured that I would stay in bondage until I had a second erection and orgasm before releasing myself and getting some sleep.
When the first orgasm arrived it was quite intense. There is something about the freedom that bondage gives you that allows you to just totally experience an orgasm that you are “forced” to have. Also, since I did not have to worry about what a woman would think of me I could really let go and thrashed against my bonds and screamed into my gag. Why not, no one could hear me.
Waiting for the second orgasm was a bit masochistic. At my age it takes considerably longer and the constant stimulation after just having an orgasm can be a bit painful. I lay there with nothing else to do but relish the combination of pleasure and pain. It probably took an hour and a half for that second orgasm to come. I wouldn't say that it was less intense than the first one, just different. The tingling in my penis, since the vibrator simply kept going after my orgasm, was all but unbearable. I reached for the long end of the slip knot.
The is a mental shift that occurs when your primary escape method fails that brings you out of your pleasurable haze and into sharp mental focus with amazing speed. My thrashing against my bonds had, somehow, pulled the pennant on my slip knot back through itself. I worked at it for quite some time but eventually realized that it had pulled back through the loop and the knot was tight. There was no way that I was going to slip the end of the rope back through the loop to put it in a position to slip the knot. OK. That's why you have a backup.
Looking back I should have removed the pile of decorative pillows at the head of the bed and just secreted the knife under one of the sleeping pillows. It's amazing how heavy and difficult to move a pile of pillows can be to move when you are in strict bondage. Worming my way under the pillows I felt for the knife with my finger tips. I found it a couple of times but could not get a grip, so I decided to shove some pillows off the bed to get some fighting room. I was doing well at this when I heard a “Thunk”. It took a while to confirm that my immediate fear was true. The knife had fallen off the mattress and was behind the bed.
Always make sure that you have a reliable backup release when you put yourself into a hogtie. In fact, two backups would not be unreasonable. The real danger you are in is from something called positional asphyxia. Even though you do not have something around your neck, you can still strangle because you can get into a position where you cannot breathe. Simply put, you don't want to fall asleep when hogtied. I had to get that knife.
The first thing to do was get on the floor. I tried to carefully slip off the bed and onto the floor as slowly as possible. The bed was a little higher than most and I ended up rolling onto the floor on my front, not on my side as planned. The masturbation sleeve hit the floor straight on and was driven back into my balls. You can't roll forward to relieve the pain in your balls when you are in a hogtie, so it took a little while to recover. I ended up with a few bruises in other places as well. The object now was to locate the knife and see if I could get some part of my body under the bed to sweep it out to where I could grab it. It was then that I realized that the platform bed was sitting on a solid box. The knife was between the box and the wall and there was no way I could get it even if I was not in bondage.
Laying there trying to think of my next option I realized that I was getting hard again and the vibrator was still going. Now I didn't want to have another orgasm. It would take a long time, I would be almost unbearably sensitive, and after this one I would be so exhausted that I would probably fall asleep. If I was lucky, I would still be alive when the maids found me in the morning, or knowing my wife, maybe I would be lucky if I wasn't.
At this point I started to get a cramp in my side. Have you ever tried to will yourself not to have a muscle cramp? I tried to get into a position that would relieve the cramp and possibly get my bonds looser. After some pain I did manage to get the muscles on one side of my back to stop twitching and threatening to cramp up. Every time I tried to relax and think about the situation the relentless vibrator would heighten my sexual awareness. My body was telling me that I was going to have that orgasm if it took all night. I tried to rub against the nightstand to see if I could scrape the sleeve off my penis but just bruised myself up a little more. Since my penis and balls are shaved, and I had used some personal lubricant when I put the thing on, the seal was just too good and I couldn't break the vacuum.
I decided to find as comfortable a position as I could and just let it happen. Maybe if I tried just after I had an orgasm with my penis trying to deflate I could scrape the thing off. It was real torture. If someone else were doing this to me I would have thought them a real sadist. Yet, with my now real helplessness, and despite the pain, it had a certain intense pleasure to it. I don't know how long it took to build, but it was very slow. I did have a moment of panic when the warning about erections lasting over four hours from the Viagra ads crossed my mind. I consoled myself by reminding myself that this was not one continuous erection, but several. The vacuum seal in the masturbation sleeve simply kept it from falling off between erections. This moment of lucidity did not last long and I began to fantasize that a beautiful woman had put me in bondage like this and she was lounging in the room enjoying my pleasurable agony.
When the orgasm finally came it was again different from the first two. Still intensely pleasurable and painful at the same time, but exhausting. The afterglow was agonizing with the vibrator mercilessly stimulating my now super sensitive penis. I tried to get to the nightstand but I was breathing like I was in the last two-hundred yards of a marathon. At my age, something like this could bring on a heart attack, so I decided to calm down. I lay on my side and consciously tried to slow my breathing and my heart beat. I closed my eyes in my effort to calm down, and as I had feared earlier, when my breathing and heart rate slowed to normal, I was so exhausted that I fell asleep.
At first I could not identify the sound that woke me. I tried to stretch but realized that I was still hogtied. Although the masturbation sleeve was still stuck on my morning hard-on at least the batteries for the vibrator had gone dead during the night. OK. Now, how to get out of this situation. That was when I realized what the sound was. It was a vacuum cleaner! Figuring that I would only be in bondage for a couple of hours I had neglected to put out the “Do Not Disturb” sign. If I did not get out of bondage in a few minutes I would be discovered by the maids anyway.
My first thought was the kitchen. There must be a sharp knife in one of the drawers. When I thought of the mechanics of trying to worm my way up to a drawer in a hogtie and the fact the lower drawers would probably not support my two-hundred-fifteen pounds I thought better of it. Maybe there would be something in the bathroom.
I rolled and wormed my way over into the dressing room. Looking around nothing was obvious, so I went into the bathroom. There, something from my past experience with architectural drafting clicked. The sink counter was cantilevered off the wall with no apparent under structure. I rolled under the sink and sure enough I was right. There was a steel box frame made of U-channels holding the counter up and the open face of the U on the side not up. “Bless American craftsmanship”, I thought. The U channel was not deburred.
First, I had to get my feet up to the edge of the channel. Not easy but by wedging my chest in the corner I managed to do it at the risk of cramping my back. Then, I had to rub the rope against the burred edge without cutting my ankles to ribbons and cut the rope. Here's where I got lucky. The channel section was deep enough that I could get the quarter inch cotton cinch rope against the burred edge. I wouldn't have to cut through the half inch braided nylon.
I had to stop and rest several times, staying in position. I couldn't risk getting down, even though my back was telling me to go to the chiropractor, since I might not be able to get back up in the same position. The rope finally parted, releasing the loop around my ankles. I lay on the floor, kicked the loop off, and spread my legs for the first time since midnight. That's when I heard the maid opening the door. I rolled over, knelt, then stood up. I bent forward and hooked the leather thong on my ball gag around the water faucet and dragged the ball gag out of my mouth.
“Is anyone here?” asked the maid, holding the door open a crack.
“Could you come back later?” I replied through my dry mouth,” I'm just about to get into the shower.
“OK,” she said, and I heard the door close.
I couldn't believe the mess that was looking back at me from the mirror. Then I laughed at myself because of the close call. It was another experience to put in my store of self-bondage memories. Now that I could stand it was little effort to go to the kitchen, find a sharp knife and release my hands. Then I released the vacuum valve on the now accursed masturbation toy and removed it from my sore penis. No damage had been done and it was working fine (My penis, not the toy.) that night. I called my customer and told them that something had come up and I would be late, then I put my toys in the bag and took a nice, warm bath. Fortunately, I had booked the room for two days.
Since that experience, whenever I put myself in bondage, I have two backup release methods along with someone to make a safe call when I can find an understanding person. I ended up buying a new Swiss Army knife. For all I know, the one that I lost that night is still in the room behind the bed.