Plumber’s Tape

The story is based on a true bondage session and therefore it is safe to say that any resemblance to a living person is entirely intentional.

I was watching the heat technician install my new boiler system. As usual my husband left the supervision of those visits to me. He usually excuses himself with being busy at work and "they are cheaper if they can come by early in the morning". The plumber (I suppose that's really what he is even if it does say Heat Technician on the ID-card) was installing a water tank which was supposed to stand in a corner and be inconspicuous. We discussed the three puny stumps posing as legs on the tank, and I expressed concerns about whether or not they were good for making sure the tank didn't tip over. Maybe I was a bit pushy, but in the end he rather pointedly produced a strip of metal with holes punched through at regular intervals. He proceeded to secure each end to the wall on either side of the tank and with a satisfied look in his face, he said, "This'll hold it. You couldn't pull it free even if you tried."
 
My mind seems to be working around the clock to find ways of doing a bit of self bondage, and I realized immidiately that this metal strip thingy would be absolutely perfect for some inescapable self bondage. So - very innocently - I asked what the strip was called and where to get some more. "Plumber's tape, or Pipe Strapping", I was told. Any DIY store should stock it and it comes in rolls of 10 or 50 feet. WOW!!!!

So I got a reel with 50 feet of this stuff (although it was called Patent Band in the place where I got it, but that is of course in Denmark.)
 
While I was searching for this Pipe Strapping, I made good use of the time to find the best spot to use it. My head was filled with possible scenarios and places. I eventually found this strapping thingy and discovered that it could quite easily be broken into smaller pieces by bending it back and forth a few times.
 
During the next few weeks I planned my new bondage adventure. I discarded loads of ideas, that might be used in new ties, but for this particular tie it had to be a novel tie, something never tried before, a daring tie and not least - it had to incorporate some sort of humiliation (as you probably know by now, I am heavily into humiliation). This humiliation bit can show it's ugly head in different ways. Perhaps discovery. Maybe soiling myself. Or merely having to do a humiliating thing in order to get free or home. You might recall my bus trip in a rather stinky summer dress.

It was a given that I had to use the strips on a wooden surface. It is so much easier to drive screws into wood than having to pre-drill, plug the hole and then find the hole with the screw tip whilst getting more and more restricted. I have two wooden surfaces at my disposal in or by my house, if you don't count the doors and floors. And since my husband probably would be rather annoyed if I used our hardwood floors, I had to resort to the floor in the greenhouse or the garage door. In the end I decided to use the greenhouse floor for the dry run. I could get the strips cut to the correct length and it would be easier to drive the screws in if I was horizontal. After this trial run I had all the necessary strips and a good understanding of how to strap myself in. OHHHH. This would be so much fun.
 
The bondage had to be inescapable. I shouldn't be able to work myself loose until the allotted time had ended. This gave me an additional head ache. I simply had to work out how to rig up a release mechanism, so that I eventually could get free, but had to wait. It took another week of tossing and turning at night before I finally found the solution. I'm sure you'll agree on the ingenious design, when we get to that bit.

The last bits of preparation took almost four months. You will later learn why.
 
During my years of self bondage I have only bought two sets of handcuffs and a a couple of vibrators. All the rest of my gear is made from bits and bobs that I made or altered from orignal use. A car tyre inner tube is absolutely brilliant for making a mask. An old leather belt and some padlocks make very good and safe wrist and ankle cuffs. Gaffatape (or Duct Tape) is also very handy if you want to make a mask. We'll get to that a bit later in this story. I'm getting pretty good at adapting the oddest stuff for my personal use.
 
My husband (second husband) agrees with my self bondage, but is not very inventful when he ties me. Although he is a good lover, he cannot understand the mechanisms that drive a humilliation bondage session. For some years now I have therefore conducted my self bondage when he is on business travels. Mostly because it isn't very humiliating to be tied in front of your husband and also because he thinks that half an hour is plenty tinme to wait for the "fun stuff".  Some could argue that having him as a safe backup release friend would be perfect. But not for me. I have to get really helpless and rely entirely on my own devices. If I miscalculate a release then I will suffer, sometimes for a long time, but eventually he will get back and then he can release me.

I have had no mishaps yet I hasten to add, even if there has been a couple of close calls. Should he die on his travels I can always use my voice. I can call out for help. I would never use a ballgag or other ways of obstructing my throat. Firstly (mostly) because I instantly gag and almost loose my breakfast if I try anything filling up my mouth (my husband is none too happy about this I can tell you) and secondly because some of my ties are time consuming and I need to drink. And lastly - since I am allergic to grass and other stuff my nose sometimes blocks up. It can happen pretty fast and with a ballgag or tapegag I could die from asphyxiation.

I could therefore cry out for help. My neighbors are well aware of my strange desires. Crying for help wouldn't be a first.
 
Well. We'd better get back to the bondage bit, or you'll all become impatient :)
 
The release mechanism was designed (Yes, yes. We'll get to it in due course). The method of restriction was decided. Now for the difficult choice of outfit.
 
For this ordeal I wanted to be stark naked. There are reasons for that which will become clear. I also wanted to wear my Gaffatape mask. It is a neat design which is based on a description I found in a sb-novel on the internet. I'd better describe it for you.

You take a plastic bin liner and pull it over your head and attach a strip of Gaffatape around your neck. This is the basic design. Then you make a hole for your nose, so that you can breathe during the construction phase. My ring-gag (made from a large O-ring and some leather straps) was inserted and tied well and tight. Now it was just a question of wrapping my head in Gaffatape. Make sure you do not cover the eyes or your mouth. The plastic bin liner ensures that you can remove the mask in one piece rather than tearing off your hair and skin. After you have finished the wrapping all you need to do is cut with a pair of scissors up the back of your head from the base up to the top.

You might want try to invent some type of protection between your hair and the tape before you make your mask. If you don't you will cut some odd patterns in your otherwise perfect hairdo. Like I did. They are kind of hard to explain, when your co-workers ask about what happened to your hair.

After the mask was removed I smoothed the edges with strips of Gaffatape and made a hole in the plastic where the ring-gag was. The eye parts were still with a film of plastic covering the holes. If you have used a dark bin liner, it'll make you look really spooky and make it difficult for you to see when wearing the mask. For me this is good.

Now I can put the mask on and fasten it with a couple of strips of Gaffatape and it won't budge. If I cover the eyeholes I can't see and it is hard to hear anything. Remember to put a small pad on the strip of tape you put over the eyes, or you will ruin the plastic covering. I now have a mask that fits my head precisely and it is comfortable enough to sleep with.
 
Back to the garage and the extremely difficult part of trying to describe it so that you can visualize it without thinking - "Hmmm. This can't happen...". Some would call out for pictures or drawings. Well. Keep calling. No pictures - I want to be anonymous. No drawings - I can't draw. I'm trying to learn a 3D-toolkit, so in due time I might be able to illustrate, but for now you have to use your third eye while I stir my second chakra.
 
In the garage.

The garage door is down and the only light comes from a window set high on the right hand side. You would find the usual clutter and absolutely no room for a car. Don't you find it funny that we leave an expensive car out on the street and lock up rusty lawn movers and boxes full of junk?

There is a high table withing easy reach if I stand with my back to the door. Which I do as I am putting the first strap on my left ankle and screw it into the garage door. Before I even started I made sure that I had measured out all the key points, where the release was, and where my hands should be once I was finished and most of the strips have been pre-positioned according to the measurements found on the floor in the greenhouse.

My legs are spread a good four feet apart and it is a bit difficult to reach. I use one of those small battery operated screwdrivers to drive in the screws. It's a good thing the tip is magnetic as I could never balance the strip, myself and the screw, while trying to find the correct hole to insert the screw. Magnetic tip and Torx are the best inventions in the whole world right there with zip-ties.

Now for the right ankle. Phew. As mentioned earlier, I have all the strips ready made in the correct sizes and they are pre positioned so that I easily can fasten them. (Note for next time: Start with the one around the stomach to lend support and help you balance.)
 
The last couple of strips are ready on the table within reach.  Then the knees. Whirrrr. Whirrrrr. Done.
More straps held the thighs in place. By design I was screwing the straps in so that they were slightly tight. This I like. Tight bondage.

Hips were next then stomach and then below the breasts and above the breasts. I should now write something about my breasts protruding proudly into the room, but alas - I'm an A-cup and I suspect a small one at that, but the store clerks are too polite to mention it. My nipples don't stick out - in fact they look more like they are painted on the bumps that represents my breasts. I am sometimes irritated that I can't create a great breast bondage, but I flatly refuse to undergo surgery just because I'm a bit flat. My body is mine and no surgeon is going to make money for his holiday or new jaguar on me. Do you know what one surgeon had the nerve to say to me when I had a bit of bother with my secret place? "It looks a bit messy and you are definitely a candidate for surgery". And why? Because my inner labia are sticking out. I love my large labia and he had no right to make me feel "messy". Bastard.

But what I lack in upper body features I have in abundance at my hips (and labia). My first husband used to say that I could give birth to two babies - simultaneously. I'm not exactly overweight, more like under-height.
 
But I digress.

I am now strapped in to breast height and I can only just reach the last bits on the table. A black dildo/vibrator, which I tie in a special way. A thin string around the base and tied to the strap around my stomach. Another string tied close to the tip and the other end to the base of the clitoris, which I had already pulled out with the use of a large syrringe with the end cut off, so that it works as a vacuum pump when the plunger is pulled. After the string is tied on with a nice bow to make it easy to remove, I take off the vacuum pump and leave it on the table.

I now attach the handcuffs. One on each wrist. The loose part will eventually click onto two bits of strip that will work as anchors for my wrists. These anchor strips are put below my release boxes which are attached high on the door. The opening in the boxes face the back of the garage and they each have a key for the handcuffs. Double release to be safe. A string from the key leads to a screw about two thirds of the way down to the point where my hands will be able to reach once I'm all strapped in. This ensures that when the keys drop they will hang slight lower than my hands and be easy to get at.

However. Getting the keys to drop is the tricky bit (my way is rather clever if you ask me). I have two larger loops of strip attached where my elbows will be when I stick my arms through and bend my arms to get the open part of the handcuffs to lock onto the small loops. I will eventually stand with my legs spread and my arms pointing down at about 45 degrees before angling up from the elbow.
 
Two more strips where my arms meet the shoulders. I now put the Gaffatape mask on. It gets dark as I have already covered the eye holes and the ring-gag fits perfectly. Two pre-cut pieces of Gaffatape closes the seam in the back. I can feel the tension build inside me. This will be very very special.
 
This is almost finished. I turn the vibrator onto low setting. It just rests there in front of my mound and although I can feel it, it doesn't really do much for me. But it will. It is operated from the mains and I'm sure it will last for however long I need. My clitoris is not that happy with being tied, but I'll survive.

Next strip across my throat. To make sure I don't choke myself I put a last strip across my forehead and thus make sure I can't turn my head. The screwdriver is now obsolete, at least until I want out, and I let it go after tying it's string around the base of the screwdriver which leaves it hanging from the top of the garage door so that it dangles just out of reach, when I put my arms through the last two loops and attach the handcuffs. And yes - I DID secure the screw bit in the screwdriver with a strip of Gaffatape. It would be a disaster, if the bit fell out wouldn't it?

Even with the careful measurements it was a bit of a chore to get my arms through the elbow loops. All the strips which held me to the garage door made room for very little movement, but eventually I succeded.

I was there. The handcuffs where locked in place and nothing I could do would free me until the keys dropped into my waiting hands. So what could I do to make them drop? The strips made it impossible to move enough to bang the door and get them to slip out of the boxes.

Ah, she says with a cunning smile (with a large ring-gag it probably looked more like an invitation for a blowjob).
 
As it happens all the bungalows on our street were build at the same time, by the same contractor and from the same blueprints. What we have in our house, our neighbors have in their house. Including the garage door opener. My husband was very proud when he adjusted the mechanism when we moved in and he simply had to show me what he'd done. What was wrong then, was that the springs were misadjusted so that the door was difficult to raise even with the electric motor, and it struggled to open the door. He explained to me how he had adjusted the springs so that the weight of the door was balanced by the springs and the motor had no problem raising the door after that. The other problem was simpler. Our neighbor across the street opened his garage door and ours opened with it. Something with the radio frequency of the electronics. Luckily it was easily remedied, by reprogramming it with some small thingys that ... well ... programmed the frequency. Same "thingy-setup" in the remote and we had a working door.

I had adjusted the weight by stringing up a 70 kilo bag to the door (yes - 70 kilos I'm afraid) and have thus balanced the doors to cater for my weight. I had adjusted the frequency by simply testing it with our next door neighbor for reference. This was actually what took the longest time as I couldn't very well tell him that I wanted our garage door working on his frequency. It was trial an error but it paid off.
 
My neighbor across the street was on holiday and my neighbor on our right was working late every day. When he came home, he always changed his clothes and on Wednesdays he went out again to play poker with his buddies. What was interesting about him was that in his garage he had a motorcycle and nothing else. And this motorcycle he used to drive to poker nights. Did I mention that he was in his fourties. :)

Today was Wednesday.
 
I had all my preparations ready probably a couple of hours before he was expected home. The weather was nice and it was about the time where it begins to get dark. I'm not sure. It's already dark for me, so I wait. And wait. The vibrator does some good, but the wait is killing me.

I never heard him come home, but by the Gods I noticed him leave for poker. Suddenly my garage door started to raise. The strips cut into my flesh and I felt myself being lifted and tilted at the same time. THIS IS IT.

It works, I'm still hanging there. The door goes up further and further while I tilt more and more. And the tilting does something to the vibrator. It leaves it hanging horizontally - one string on my belly strip and the other - AAArggg - around my clitoris. The vibrating, dancing head of the vibrator exerts a pull on the clitoris while at the same time pull on it with an bumbing, strumming, thumping AAAAAAAHHHH.

I almost completely forget that I'm hanging from a garage door in an open garage. I only hope that I'm sufficiently hidden if anyone come passing by. I know it is dark outside my house and the neighbors across are on holiday and it is highly unlikely that anyone actually will pass my house. But unlikely isn't the same as certainly.
 
I am hanging horisontally and the straps are biting into me, but it isn't all bad. The number of straps distributes my weight relatively evenly and it soon becomes quite comfortable and I start enjoying my ordeal. The thought of my secret place pointing straight out towards the street between my very spread legs is a real turnon. I start coming. Or rather - I explode. It is so intense that I strain in my strips and I dribble on the floor from both ends. I moan and groan. I can see nothing. I can hear nothing, but I'm absolutely sure that they can see and hear me. My experience from my first self bondage session comes back to me. They watch. They snicker. They laugh. But I can do nothing but come and come and come.

Even if I have called for help from neighbors before it has been to untie me from a tree in our garden when a knot was impossible to loosen. I was dressed then and we could laugh it of as a goofy surprise that I didn't want to go through with after all (my excuse was that I realized that it would take hours before he returned home). Another time it was help with a key that became entangled in it's string when it was supposed to drop into my hands after the ice melted. I was in a bikini then and the excuse was that I was rehearsing for a birthday surprise for hubby.

This was different. I was nude and couldn't pretend a rehearsal. They knew my husband was away and wouldn't be back until the following day. And although I'm into "almost public" bondage, I am in fact a very modest woman and I would never show my secret place to anyone but a lover. Unless I'm forced to do so, which is where the humiliation factor kicks in.
 
I don't know how long I was hanging there. I have no idea how many times I came. I was by now hurting a bit. The vibrator was still bouncing at the end of the string attached to my clitoris, but is wasn't good anymore. I wanted down. I wanted down so badly. But I could do nothing. If my release mechanism was working the keys were now hanging from their strings less than a foot from my fingers, but there was no way I could get to them. The screwdriver was hanging from it's string somewhere towards the back of the garage.
 
Eventually I slipped into "otherspace". I was vaguely aware that I was hurting, but endorphins had kicked in and it felt ever so good. I just hung there and groaned. I couldn't really focus my thoughts, and at one point it felt like I was standing outside the garage looking in. There I was. Hanging with my legs spread widely and my secret place moist to a point where my engorged lips reflected what there was of moonlight.

After what seemed like a week my neighbor came back from his poker game, drove his bike in the garage and lowered the door and my door followed suit. He had absolutely no idea how close he was to the best winnings of the night.

The strain in my limbs shifted as the strips cut into my flesh in a different way. The vibrator stopped tormenting my clitoris and then I was vertical again. It took a while for me to locate the strings with the keys and it took forever before I found a keyhole and managed to release the right handcuff from it's anchor point.

The very first thing my right hand did was release my clitoris from captivity by pulling the strings in the neat little bow. MY GODS! I hurt like buggery. I'm never doing that again. It's funny how things seem reasonable when you plan it. Had I had a trial run with this clitoris tie, I'd never have done it for a long time like mine. Never again. Maybe for a short time :)
 
The left hand was very difficult. The hand didn't want to cooperate and I simply couldn't get the key into the keyhole. (Note to self: Always make sure it is your right hand that recieves the release key.) I also discovered that I couldn't reach over with my right hand until I had unscrewed the strips from head, throat, shoulders and breast. It is also rather difficult to find the screw heads when you can't see them. But I managed.

One thing is certain. This is not the last time I use these strips for self bondage. It is so much better than rope. It is very strict and the rigidity gives it an extra feeling of helplessnes. I'm already considering ways of using them somewhere outdoors. Perhaps a disused farm? A huge barn door that accidentally swings open?
 
The only bad thing about this whole ordeal is that I forgot to readjust the springs and frequency. This led to our garage being emptied of usuable stuff a couple of days later when our neighbor was away during the daytime on a bike meet. Some people have no respect for property. Tsk. Tsk. I wonder what they would have done had I been hanging from the door when they paid a visit? But I was lucky. I was actually in a hogtie on the kitchen floor and heard them rummage through the garage. I even managed to struggle onto my back so I could be ready should they enter the house. Which of course they didn't. But they might have looked through the window, but I don't know. My Gaffatape mask is my best toy.

05.06.10