Chelsea had spent weeks planning her self-bondage, determined that her debut appearance on the Internet BDSM channel she had spent so many hours watching, would be a smash-hit and make her a star in the kink community.
To that end, she had paid an engineering company to build the steel frame on which she intended to restrain herself, bought two expensive, high-definition video cameras and the electronic equipment needed to upload her live image to the Net and worked out precisely how to bind and gag herself so that she would be completely unable to get free.
Unlike the actresses in many of the carefully stage-managed BDSM scenes she had seen, Chelsea’s bondage would be 100% real and her climaxes the result of her enforced and genuine submission to the relentless and inescapable arousal and torments imposed on her by the devices ravaging her captive body.
Once secured on the frame and utterly helpless, she would be at their mercy and have no choice but to accept and endure their pitiless mechanical domination for as long as it took for her release system to reach the point at which it would deliver the key to her restraints into her hands and enable her release.
How long this would take, she had deliberately not calculated, merely satisfying herself that the candle which would eventually burn through the cord suspending the key and allow it to drop into her hands, burned steadily once lit.
She did not want to know how long that might be, for along with the thrill of knowing that an unknown number of viewers would be watching her plight, the uncertainty of the length of her bondage and subjugation and the knowledge that she would be able to do nothing at all to change her situation or affect the timing of her eventual release, ignited a hot glow of masochistic excitement in her belly.
Even so, she was careful to test her release system, using candles on her coffee table on three separate occasions to satisfy herself that it would definitely work.
Each time, the candles functioned exactly as she hoped and when she was convinced that her escape-route was secure, decided that early evening when the maximum number of BDSM fans would be on-line looking for just the sort of entertainment she planned, would be the perfect time for her self-bondage performance to go “on air.”
So it was that, two weeks later, at 7.30 in the evening , Chelsea shut her curtains, locked and checked the front door of her rented apartment and began the preparations for her very first live show…
Stripping naked before donning a pair of full-length black rubber opera gloves, she then placed a tall, rigid leather posture-collar around her slender neck, buckling it to a tight fit and then adding one of her many keyed-alike padlocks, ensuring she could not remove it until the show ended and she was finally able to release herself.
Next, she took a long length of thin cord and fashioned a chest harness, encircling the bases of her breasts with multiple loops of cord, cinching each to less than half of their normal diameter so that they swelled with blood and projected from her torso like twin spherical melons, each tipped by a stiffly-engorged nipple.
Moving quickly to the steel frame, she knelt and positioned herself with her legs widely spread, exactly as she had practised, the powerful, mains-powered vibrator nestled firmly against the bud of her clitoris, then reached down and buckled the first pair of wide leather straps around each thigh and ankle to keep each leg doubled and completed the task with the second pair of straps at her knees, these connected to a steel spreader-bar preventing her from closing her legs.
Before silencing herself, Chelsea checked yet again that the candle and key so vital to her release were both securely knotted to a cord hanging from the bar holding her gag, then opened her jaws as widely as she could and took the massive rubber dildo into her mouth until her cheeks bulged and the tip of the shaft almost touched the back of her throat.
With the straps of the gag-harness buckled tightly around her head and locked with another keyed-alike padlock, she could do nothing more than mumble and grunt, her ability to speak or communicate intelligibly, entirely lost to her and unable to eject or pull back from the huge shaft.
Reaching behind her, she found the end of the length of cord dangling from the rear of the gag-harness and pulled firmly, the special knot she had researched on the Net allowing the cord to tighten, but not loosen, so that her head was held immobile between the two competing tensions.
Reluctantly, wincing in anticipation, she then made herself attach weights to each of her labia and clamps to each of her nipples, the bite of the clips on her tender flesh adding to her nervous excitement as she neared the final stages of her preparations and the moment she would become the helpless…and extremely public…captive of her own ingenuity.
The broad leather waist-belt, complete with a pair of leather cuffs dangling from its central ring by a length of chain came next, buckled tightly around her waist and quickly padlocked to the vertical post before her by another short chain, removing the possibility of her rising from her kneeling position .
Almost ready to surrender the last of her freedom, Chelsea picked up the lighter from the floor and used it to light the candle, watching intently until the flame steadied and burned cleanly before she continued restraining herself.
Picking up the final pair of leather cuffs placed beside the frame, she padlocked them around her biceps above the elbow, then twisted her arms behind her and arched her shoulders back, found the open padlock dangling from the short chain locked to her right cuff and after a little fumbling, managed to snap it shut through the ring on her left cuff, securing her upper arms.
Making one final check of her preparations as best she could, Chelsea reached down with her left hand to the electronic box that would turn on the cameras, took a deep breath, and pressed the “On” button.
With a three-minute delay programmed into the box, she had just that long to complete her self-bondage before live, full-colour images of her chained, gagged, nude body would be sent to the BDSM channel on the Internet and as fierce arousal swirled through her belly, she shivered in delicious fright at the thought of unknown eyes watching her helpless subjugation.
With trembling hands, she turned the vibrator to its “Random” setting and switched it on, a breathy gasp bursting from her nose as strong vibrations instantly raced through her clitoris and labia.
For a moment, as the machine sent exquisite pleasure deep into her belly, Chelsea was almost tempted to abandon her whole plan and simply give in to an immediate desire to submit to the arousal imposed on her and send her fingers racing to her sex to give herself the climax she could already feel building inside her.
With a determined effort, she forced herself to reject the enticing prospect, concentrating instead on buckling each of her wrists into the cuffs hanging from her waist-belt, then using her right hand to padlock her left to a ring set into the heavy leather just in front of her left hip.
All that remained was to secure her right wrist to the opposite hip-ring with the padlock that hung waiting there and although it took Chelsea several attempts to hook the hasp of the padlock through the ring of her cuff, she was eventually rewarded by a firm “click” when the lock snapped shut.
Past the point of being able to change her mind, there was no longer any way for Chelsea to free herself or influence the events she had set in motion and as the remaining seconds of the delay period ticked away, she gazed anxiously up at the blank screen of her large, wall-mounted TV.
The screen flickered, then lit up and as she saw a crystal-clear, magnified picture of her own face, eyes wide and red lips stretched around the huge dildo-gag filling her mouth, she gave a muffled squeal and tugged instinctively at her bonds, her belly kicking massively.
To no effect, for she had planned well and the chains and straps she had used to restrain herself functioned exactly as they had been designed to function, holding her securely and easily resisting her efforts to escape their grasp.
She was connected to the Net and within seconds the Infographics panel at the left of the TV screen showed that one, then four, then nine, then seventeen people had already logged-on to her live feed and were seeing exactly the same image of her as she was.
An image that changed to a front view of her kneeling body as the second video camera mounted alongside the TV showed every detail of the stringent bondage and inescapable torment she had imposed on herself.
The sight of her own utter helplessness and the knowledge that unknown strangers were watching her and relishing her plight just as she had relished watching other women in bondage on the site, sent her arousal spiralling higher and combined with the vibrator’s devastating stimulation to push her into an immediate orgasm.
She couldn’t hold back and as convulsions tore through her belly, she squealed into her dildo-gag and climaxed massively, her body jerking and the clamps on her nipples tugging painfully as she was forced to exhibit the depth and intensity of her submission to her rapidly-increasing audience.
For an unknown time, eyes squeezed shut, Chelsea was lost in the fury of her orgasm and it was only as the chaotic pounding of her belly slowly eased that she became uncomfortably aware of her tortured nipples and the vibrator’s continuing arousal of her engorged clitoris.
Knowing that she was unable to do anything about her discomfort until she was able to free herself, she concentrated on the TV screen and was astounded to see that her audience was well into the high hundreds and increasing, the numbers flicking upwards even as she watched.
Thrilled and a little embarrassed that her sexual surrender had been seen by so many people, Chelsea tried to wriggle backwards away from the vibrator, hoping to reduce its relentless stimulation for just a few moments to allow her to recover from her first huge orgasm.
Her total failure added another upward twist to her self-imposed subjugation and as the vibrator forced her to respond whether she willed it or not, Chelsea whimpered into her giant dildo-gag, feeling her belly swirl and kick and the clamps tighten on her swollen nipples as her body raced towards a second climax.
Powerless to help herself, she could only stare wide-eyed at the crystal-clear, full-colour images of her own tightly-bound and gagged nudity, seeing the futile clawing and clenching of her gloved fingers and hearing her own muffled squeals and gasps as her instinctive wriggles to the power of the arousal jolting through her sex, tugged at the cords to her clamped nipples.
Without warning, the vibrator stopped dead and Chelsea squealed in frustration as she was deprived of her second climax only moments before it would have exploded into her seething belly.
Then whimpered in anguish when she remembered that she had set it to “Random” mode and had no way of knowing when it would turn itself on again.
Just as she had planned, all she could do was endure her self-imposed torment and accept whatever happened until her release system freed her…however long that might be…
All too quickly, without the vibrator’s powerful stimulation to distract her, Chelsea became acutely aware of numerous aches and pains as her nipples and labia and knees and back and neck and jaw all protested at the stringency of her bondage, but unfortunately for her, she had been so careful and thorough to ensure her absolute helplessness and inability to escape, that she couldn’t alter or ease her plight in any way.
She was well and truly stuck and when the vibrator suddenly switched itself on again, she was overwhelmed by her body’s instantaneous response, her belly kicking hugely as a second giant climax exploded over her, sweeping aside her pitiful attempt to control the tornado of masochistic lust that set trickles of silvery juices oozing from her sex as she was forced to submit utterly to her bondage and the irresistible power of her sexual subjugation.
In the iron grip of her orgasm, Chelsea writhed and twisted the little she could as contractions tore through her belly, her eyes wide with disbelief and alarm at the incredible depth, extent and sheer speed of her second unconditional surrender to the vibrator’s demands.
It was by no means the first time she had put herself in bondage, or employed a vibrator to pleasure herself, but she had never, ever come with such intensity and the undreamed-of ferocity of her body’s uncontrollable reactions frightened her, for she already knew that she could not escape her bonds or prevent the vibrator from forcing her to climax over and over again until her release system delivered the key to her cuffs into her hands.
Wanting to get an idea of how much longer that might be, Chelsea tried to angle her head forward and look down to where the candle hung in its loop of cord…momentarily forgetting that she had specifically designed her bondage to prevent just such an action.
Between the leather harness wedging the huge dildo-gag into her mouth and the tight cord to the frame behind her, she couldn’t do it and was forced to squint down past her nose to see the candle at all.
Even then, she could only see its outer half…but that was more than enough for her eyes to bulge in appalled horror.
Instead of burning cleanly and brightly as it always had each time she had tested it, the candle was flickering and guttering as if it was just about to go out.
Chelsea couldn’t believe it, her mind simply refusing to accept what she was seeing, but when the flame wavered and shrank to almost nothing, she gasped in fear, realising that if it did, there would be no possible way for her to release herself.
For long, seemingly-endless moments, she gazed at the candle, mesmerised by its feeble little flame, then whimpered in enormous relief when it steadied and burned a little more strongly.
What had gone wrong?
She had been so careful and checked so thoroughly to make absolutely sure that her release system would give her the key to escape.
It should have worked perfectly, she had tested and tested again, lighting a candle, putting it down on the coffee table and watching to make sure it burned down evenly.
So why hadn’t it this time?
Her whole body froze, the spasms of her ongoing orgasm forgotten as she realised the simple mistake she had made.
Every time she had tested, the candle had been upright on the table.
Vertical, not at an angle as she had tied it in a loop of cord.
With the candle standing on the table, all the molten wax had simply run down the sides away from the flame, leaving it burning cleanly…but partly on its side, some of the wax must have cooled and formed a sort of reservoir, allowing the rest of the liquid wax to pool and threaten to extinguish the flame.
Unfortunately for Chelsea, knowing the problem and being able to do something about it were two entirely different things and her eyes filled with dreadful apprehension as the candle flickered and wavered again, the flame turning from white to a dirty yellow and guttering almost to the point of going out completely.
Panic flared in Chelsea and she strained madly against her bonds, her fingers stretching upwards and searching blindly for the dangling key that would enable her to free herself.
The very tip of her fingers touched it, but it spun away and she groaned in frustration, then forced herself to calm down and tried again.
Then again and again, each time just managing to touch the key but never quite able to grasp it…not realising that her attempts were making the key swing and jerk and transmitting those random movements up the cord to the loop holding the candle.
Until, at her fifth or sixth try, the key bounced off her fingertip and dropped hard enough to make the candle jiggle up and down…causing the molten wax to splash over the sickly little flame and extinguish it.
A thin wisp of smoke spiralled upwards and Chelsea screamed her shock and disbelief into the huge gag sealing her lips as the horrifying implications of the disaster crashed into her reeling brain.
Without what she had believed to be her foolproof release system, the cord would not burn through to drop the key and without the key she could not unlock the cuffs securing her hands.
Which meant she would not be able to release any of her other bonds, or remove her gag, or even turn off the vibrator…
With thousands of people watching her worldwide, Chelsea’s debut appearance on the BDSM channel was unquestionably a huge success, the four hour show of relentless torment and submission she had put on for her audience more than doubling the length of time of the previous record session.
After so long and so many enforced climaxes, she was drenched in sweat, her rope-cinched breasts a dark reddish-purple, the floor beneath her sex puddled with the outpourings of her numerous submissions to the vibrator wedged between her spread thighs and her eyes wild above the massive dildo-gag that still muffled her squeals of anguish.
Taken far beyond even her most-extreme fantasies, Chelsea was near exhaustion, but when the vibrator buzzed into frenetic life yet again, could only whimper despairingly as she was forced to respond to its merciless, mindless demands, her sex oozing wetly as she was driven towards another massive orgasm that she was unable to refuse.
For the vast majority of the audience, her distress merely added to their enjoyment of her plight, their attitude being that they were watching a BDSM channel and that if Chelsea was in more trouble than she had anticipated and bargained-for…well, that was her problem and nothing to do with them.
A far smaller number, recognising her on-screen sufferings, were concerned for her…but were unable to help her, of course and could only hope for an end to her self-imposed torment.
There was one watcher, however, who had a very different view of her troubles, seeing in them an opportunity that could be turned to advantage…
Chelsea had long since lost all track of time, its passing marked only by her inevitable submissions to the multiple, explosive climaxes inflicted on her by the vibrator and her inescapable bondage.
She had wanted her helplessness to be absolute and her subjugation to be the real thing…and she had succeeded only too well…for in the long hours of her televised appearance at the mercy of her own restraints and devices, the masochism which had so excited her at the thought of what she would have to endure after she had bound herself, had strengthened and developed into a burning desire.
Despite the aching of her cruelly-distended jaws, the throbbing of her root-cinched breasts and clamped nipples, her cramping knees and thighs and the bruised and painful tenderness of her abused sex, Chelsea had never felt more keenly alive and sexually aroused, the exquisite agony of her body matched by her overwhelming desire to surrender again and again to the thrilling tightness of the chains and ropes and straps that held her captive and the ruthless, uncompromising demands of the vibrator that controlled and punished and rewarded her with perfect mechanical efficiency, forcing her to submit utterly, regardless of her wishes and preferences.
It had become her Master, and she its slave, helplessly obedient to its power over her and as her passion was built yet again towards another inevitable surrender, she was oblivious to the tiny sound of a key being carefully inserted into the lock of her front door…
Staring upwards at the TV screen on the wall as she had been forced to since putting herself in bondage, Chelsea had no idea that she was no longer alone until a hand in a black leather glove suddenly appeared in front of her and waved at the screen, while a woman’s voice from above and behind her head thanked her viewers for watching, hoped they had enjoyed the show and assured them that Chelsea would soon return in even more stringent bondage, so they should watch out for her next appearance.
The shock of suddenly finding that someone was in the apartment with her, momentarily distracted her from her plight, but when the woman walked around to stand looking down at her, Chelsea recognised her immediately and gulped to a fresh wave of arousal that set her belly seething and churning yet again.
It was Miss Hatherley, the manageress of the agency where Chelsea had rented her apartment and as she gazed up helplessly at the tall, slender brunette, perfectly made up and elegantly dressed in a tailored black skirt and jacket, white blouse, black stockings and heels, felt her face burn with embarrassment at the contrast with her own sweat- and sex-stained nudity.
Just as at the agency, the woman displayed an effortless style that Chelsea had envied from the first moment they met…but along with it, Miss Hatherley possessed an air of supreme confidence and total authority that had always made Chelsea feel as if she was transparent and the older woman could see right into her mind and read her deepest thoughts and desires.
Red-faced with humiliation, she tried to avoid Miss Hatherley’s cool eyes as they calmly inspected her body and the stringent bondage she had imposed upon herself, but when the brunette congratulated her on the efficiency and security of her efforts and said that she was looking forward to trying out some of her own bondage ideas and techniques on her for Chelsea's next performance for the BDSM channel, Chelsea gasped and was unable to hold back the climax that surged into her belly at the breathtaking prospect of being tied-up and dominated by her.
Shuddering in the throes of yet another irresistible orgasm brought on by the woman’s words and the vibrator still wedged firmly between her thighs, Chelsea whimpered into her gag and her eyes grew wide as the brunette chuckled that it was always best for a star to leave her audience wanting more, then reached down to switch off the cameras and vibrator.
For a long time, she simply watched with a small smile playing on her scarlet lips as Chelsea’s climax ran its course until the spasms of her belly ceased, then untied the key from where it hung above Chelsea’s cuffed wrists and held it up where the blonde could see it.
See it, but still not reach it or free herself and when Miss Hatherley bent low to stare deep into Chelsea’s anxious blue eyes and said that she had been looking for a genuinely submissive bondage enthusiast for quite some time and was now convinced that she had found the ideal candidate, Chelsea gulped and wasn’t able to hold the brunette’s steady gaze, her own eyes sliding away in an attempt to conceal the shameful excitement she felt.
Then her eyes jerked back up, filled with alarm and confusion as Miss Hatherley stated flatly that, as her full-time, live-in submissive, Chelsea would be required to address her as “Mistress,” comply with her rules and be subject to any discipline necessary to ensure her complete obedience, in return for which she would receive the extreme bondage and domination she so clearly desired and loved.
Including, of course, regular live appearances on the Internet…
Holding eye contact, the brunette placed the key into Chelsea’s left hand and said that she could be contacted at the agency when Chelsea decided to accept her offer, then simply walked away as the hapless blonde squealed a wordless protest into her gag.
Chelsea couldn’t believe that Miss Hatherley had actually gone, but when she heard the apartment door click shut, shivered in half-delicious fear at the realisation that the brunette was totally confident that her masochism and need to be dominated was so strong and deep-rooted that she would be unable to resist submitting to her as her Mistress.
As soon as that idea entered her head, Chelsea's belly kicked violently and her brain instantly pictured the tall brunette standing over her with a whip in her hand while she knelt at her feet bound, gagged, naked and completely at her mercy.
The image in her mind was similar to many she had often fantasised about as she watched bondage videos online, but all of those had featured a dominant male Master and she had never really considered the possibility of submitting to a woman.
Until Miss Hatherley had entered her apartment and opened up a whole new range of potential adventures…
With the key in her hand, Chelsea could finally escape her self-imposed bondage and begin to recover from the incredible marathon of torment and sexual subjugation she had been forced to endure as the result of her mistake with the candle release system.
Once free, she need never put herself in such an uncomfortable and embarrassing situation ever again and could try to forget all about Miss Hatherley and her astounding offer.
She could do that…or…she could go down to the rental agency…submit to Miss Hatherley as her Mistress…and become the Internet bondage star she had planned and hoped to be…