Sandy’s act of selfbondage

It was six o’clock that evening when I arrived at Sandy’s flat. I was at least two hours early. Sandy opened the door as far as the security chain would allow and looked a little surprised to see me.

“Woody!” she exclaimed. “You’re early!”

I just put on my best smile.

“You know me, always unpredictable,” I told her.

Sandy opened up the door and I looked her up and down. Once more she was wearing just a dressing gown and had a towel wrapped about her head, but as I embraced her in the doorway I was relieved to discover that she had at least had time to dry herself down this time. I had my travel bag with me. I tossed it into the room, and it slid across the floor past Sandy’s bare feet. This time I had come well prepared and had four sets of handcuffs and a truncheon packed.

Stood in the open doorway, we kissed and embraced, and I opened out the front of her dressing gown to reveal those luscious, firm round breasts of hers. Still locked in an embrace, and with me fondling her tits, Sandy dragged me into the room and gave the door a sharp kick. The door slammed noisily behind me.

Our lips parted and I tweaked a nipple. “I see you’ve got yourself ready for me then,” I suggested.

Sandy chuckled. “Come on in Woody,” she told me, then turned and headed for the lounge.

I followed Sandy into the lounge. In front of the settee was a low coffee table, and to my surprise the surface was covered in bondage gear. There were a pair of handcuffs, a ball gag, two longish lengths of white rope, two clothes pegs, a roll of tape and scissors. There was also something else on the table that looked a little out of place. It was a small drinking glass that had been filled with water and then frozen. By the looks of it, it had just been taken out of the freezer.

“So you were getting yourself ready for me?” I remarked, and pointing to all the gear on the table. Though I must admit, I was uncertain as to the use of the glass of ice. Sandy plonked herself down on the settee and I sat down alongside. She held my hand.

“Sorry, but this stuff’s not for you Woody,” she confessed, and pointing to the items on the table, “I wasn’t expecting you for another couple of hours, so I was hoping to get in a little practice for tomorrow night,” she explained. I assumed ‘practice for tomorrow night’ had something to do with the BDSM club where Sandy worked. But with all her many years experience I was a bit surprised to hear that she was in need of some practice.

Of course I was naturally curious. “Practice for what?” I asked.

Sandy’s face gave a little knowing smile. “Self bondage,” she informed me.

I was stunned. I put it to her: “What? I thought the men at the club paid good money to tie you up themselves.”

Sandy shook her head. “No, not this client Woody,” she explained, “this one’s a voyeur and never touches. His scene is to watch us girls applying a little self bondage, then getting themselves out of it. The problem is, this client travels about a lot, Europe mainly, and he doesn’t come to the club very often. But when he does, he usually has a regular girl, but she can’t make it tomorrow night, so the club’s manager asked me to step in. The trouble is, what I’m expected to do is a set routine, always the same, and something I’ve never done it before. So I wanted I’d get in a bit of practice first.”

I guess it all made sense, but I was still curious as to the ice-filled glass. I picked it up and took a closer look. Now I could see that a small key had been frozen into the ice. I was about to ask what all this was about, but Sandy enlightened me. “That’s the key to the handcuffs. The theory is, once I’ve got all this gear on, then I can’t get out of it until the ice melts,” she explained.

“And you were about to do all this when the doorbell rang?” I surmised.

Sandy nodded her head. “I was reckoning on the ice melting by eight o’clock, and I’d be free and waiting for you. But I guess I don’t have time for it any more,” she bemoaned.

I saw the grimace and decided not to spoil her fun. “Look Sandy, don’t let me stop you,” I told her. “You just carry on with what you were doing, and I’ll take the part as the voyeur. I can rate you on your performance, and perhaps give a few tips along the way.”

Somewhat relieved, Sandy cheered up immediately, and that big beaming smile of hers returned. “Then you don’t mind if I carry on then Woody?” she asked.

I returned the smile. “No, I don’t mind at all Sandy. Just carry on as if I’d not turned up,” I told her.

From the arm of the settee Sandy retrieved a piece of paper. She must have been looking at it just before I arrived.

She handed it to me. “That’s the client’s notes. I was reading them just before you rang. That’s what I’m expected to do,” she explained.

I unfolded the note and scanned the contents. It was all hand written and was an itemised list of every move.

I settled myself down on the settee and read item one to Sandy. “Well, to start with it says: ‘The girl strips naked before me.’ I guess that’s you, and you’d better get started.”

Sandy rose from the settee to stand on the carpet facing me. She unwound the towel from around her head and shook her long ginger hair free of tangles. There was a little spray from the remaining dampness from the shower, but other than a few droplets on my face there was nothing there to worry about. She tossed the towel to one side, then slowly began to remove her dressing gown. She undid the belt, then let the robe fall from her shoulders and glide gracefully to the floor. She then stooped down, picked it up, and tossed it away to join the towel.

Sandy, now completely naked, straightened herself up then looked towards me. “Well, stop ogling, the girl is stripped naked, what comes next?” she asked. I must admit I was staring at her fanny. Sandy was a natural redhead, and a great mound of curly red hair graced her mound. I pulled myself together and looked to item two on the list.

“Item two reads: ‘Girl sits down on floor and ties ankles to thighs on both legs’,” I said to her.

I leant forward and picked up the two lengths of white rope from off the coffee table. Sandy had seated herself on the carpet and I tossed the ropes to her. She caught them and separated the ropes so that she just held one in her hands. She then folded up her left leg, tied one end about the ankle, and passed the rest about her upper thigh. Then, with a series of tugs and weaves, she drew the heel of her foot up to touch the back of the thigh. She then knotted everything tightly into place.

When she was done I clapped my hands. “Very good,” I said, then queried: “I thought you said that you’d never done this before?”

Sandy looked up from the carpet and glared at me. “Never to myself before,” she informed me, “but it’s not the first time I’ve ever been tied like this before, so I’ve a fair idea of what to do.”

I agreed and nodded my head. “Sorry for interrupting. Don’t listen to me. Just carry on,” I said apologetically.

Anyway, I was quiet after that, and happy enough just to sit and be entertained. Sandy took up the second rope, bent her right knee, attached one end to her ankle, then set about roping the leg together. When she was done she rocked backwards to lie on her back with knees doubled-up in the air.

“What next then Woody?” she asked from her prone position.

I read out item three. “It gets interesting from now on,” I informed her. “It involves medical tape and a couple of clothes pegs.”

I collected the items from off the table and tossed them to her, including a small pair of scissors which I assumed was in there to cut the tape. I then read out item three in full: “The girl attaches the pegs to her labia lips and tapes them to her inner thighs.”

Sandy collected the clothes pegs from off the floor where they had landed. “Men ask for this all the time at the club,” she informed me, “so don’t say anything, I know what I am doing.”

I didn’t say a word. I told you I was content simply to sit and watch, and judging by the performance so far, I guessed tomorrow night’s client would be feeling just the same.

Sandy, pulling herself upright to rock unsteadily on her backside, parted her moist labia lips with her fingers and attached the clothes pegs. There were two noticeable little grimaces there as the pegs gripped the folds of tender pink flesh, but like all true professionals, she carried on without a word of complaint. Next, after cutting off two fairly long lengths of tape from off the roll, she parted her legs wide and stuck the pegs to her inner thighs.

From where I was seated I could see right up Sandy’s open fanny, and I licked my lips. This was a delicious sight.

Sandy saw where my eyes were focused and berated me. “You’re ogling again Woody. You’re meant to be helping me by reading out the list,” she said, and calling upwards from the floor.

Reluctantly I averted my eyes and returned my concentration to the piece of paper.

“We’ve got to item four,” Sandy reminded me as I scanned the list.

I looked to the list. “Ha! Yes, item four. It’s the ball-gag this time. It says: ‘Girl fastens ball-gag to mouth’.”

I collected the ball-gag and tossed it down onto the floor. Sandy rocked backwards and rolled over onto one side. I guess it was easier to work like that. She collected the ball-gag, placed the big red ball in her mouth, then strapped it in place behind her head. I waited until she was done before speaking. “Well, aren’t you going to ask what item five is?” I teased.

“Mmmm,” came the muffled reply. I began to chuckle at the situation. For an act of self bondage Sandy was doing a fine job. I decided not to tease any longer and let her carry on with the practice session.

“Well, item five is quite simple,” I told her, “all it says is: ‘Girl handcuffs hands behind her back’.”

I checked on the handcuffs. The bracelets were already open and there was a spare key on the table. I guess for in case of emergency. I tossed the handcuffs to Sandy to land on the floor between her legs. She rocked forwards and with an outstretched hand retrieve them. After a bit of fumbling she locked one bracelet about a wrist, then, rocking backwards and rolling over onto her side once more, she secured the second bracelet around her other wrist. I listened to the clicks as she squeezed the bracelet into position, then, as silence fell, I clapped my hands in appreciation.

“What a performance,” I told her, “that was a brilliant piece of self bondage. Do that again tomorrow night and I bet the man will be over the moon.”

“Mmmm,” came the reply.

I had no idea what it meant. But I guess it was something to do with ’hurry up and carry on reading the note’.

I looked to the hand written note. There were just two more items on the list. I read the last but one instruction to her: ‘Girl lies on her back with open legs and tries to get herself free,” I said.

Sandy, on hearing what I had to say, rolled over onto her back, opened her legs wide so that I could see her open fanny, then began to writhe and squirm in an effort to get free. I must admit I was content to let Sandy struggle about on the carpet for quite sometime. With her ankles bound tightly to her thighs, and with those two clothes pegs displaying the soft, pink flesh of her wide open fanny, I guess I was content just to sit and listen to her moans and groans. I must admit too, that it was a struggle on my own part to take my eyes away from the mouth watering sight that greeted me, but eventually I did, and I return my gaze to the itemised list.

I read out the last item to Sandy: “It says: ‘Girl rolls over on stomach, I extract the ice cube from the glass and place it in her hand. When it melts she is now in a position to get free.”

I turned the glass upside down, knocked out the block of ice on the table and rose from the settee. In the meantime, Sandy, as instructed, had rolled herself over to lie on her stomach. I placed the small cylindrical block of ice in one hand, and she gripped it tightly.

With the temperature of the room, the hot hand, and the length of time the glass had been out of the freezer, the ice was beginning to melt rapidly. Almost immediately water began to drip from the tightly clenched fist. Here it formed a little puddle in the centre of Sandy’s back before trickling sideways at the waist and down onto the carpeted floor below.

I estimated ten to fifteen minutes was all that was needed to melt away the ice, so I moved to the kitchen and put the kettle on. Knowing Sandy, I guessed that a mug of hot steaming coffee would be the first thing she’d ask for the moment she was free.

As I returned to the lounge and carrying two mugs of coffee with me, Sandy was just untying a rope from about a leg. She looked up and smiled.
“Boy, could I just do with a cup of coffee after all that,” she exclaimed.

I placed the mugs on the table and resumed my seat on the settee.

“Don’t make yourself too comfortable,” I told her, “I’ve got my own list of items to go through next.”

Sandy chuckled. “And I bet it includes the bedroom, four sets of handcuffs and a truncheon,” she said with a glint to her eye.

I smiled back. “However did you guess?” I told her.

 

This story is an extract from "Submissive Work" by Nosbert, to view the full story click here.
http://www.writingsofleviticus.cjb.net/

 

03.06.02