The following is pure fiction. I went as far as I can go with recounting my own bondage experiences, so I thought I would try my hand at a fictional story. Comments are welcomed. otto_dix@hotmail.com
My Self-Bondage Master
Chapter Three: Choices.
My new self-bondage master and I exchanged the occasional emails to talked about when we could do a second self-bondage session, and to talk about what sort of commitment we should make to this relationship. We didn't want to set a finite time on how long we should continue, but agreed that as soon as it becomes too inconvenient for either of us, we should call it off. Fortunately, the anonymity of the relationship meant either of us could call it quits at anytime. We also agreed that once a month would be frequent enough for this activity. We settled on the second Saturday of each month. He sent me the four combination locks right away, and I randomly selected three, and tested the combinations. Sure enough, they worked. I sent back the three locks, and kept the forth for my next session.
My level of nervous anxiety rose as the date of the second session approached. This was giving me such a rush. Thursday evening I received an email from Master. He had been busy thinking up a new scenario and said he was enjoying the pictures tremendously. This was truly working out to be a win-win situation. He said he would be sending me an email Saturday morning, around 11am. In the mean time, I was to go find a small length of thin chain to act as a bracelet. I would also need a small ornamental lock with which to secure it. I went out shopping Friday night and purchased the chain and a tiny but sturdy lock.
Saturday morning I got my instructions. I was told to put on nothing except thigh-high stockings, high-heeled shoes, and a smile. I went to my bedroom and stripped. I pulled out a new pair of thigh highs and slipped them on. They rose right up to my crotch. I opened the closet and pulled out my three inch black heels, slipped them on, and returned to the computer. Then, he wanted me to put on the small chain around my left wrist and lock it in place. All my other locks were to be left open, and all the keys were to be put in the toolbox and locked away with the combination.
I complied and took the obligatory pictures to prove it and sent them back. Sitting in front of the computer, I pondered what he had in mind for today. The chain around my wrist seemed to be a form of symbolic control than real restraint. I felt like a captive slave wearing it and not being able to remove it until he allowed me to.
Ten minutes later a message from Master appeared. He was going to give me two choices. My first choice was to get a genital piercing. OUCH! If I went with the piercing, I could dress any way I wanted and take as long as I wanted to get it done, but the wrist chain was not coming off until I got it done. The second choice was to go to any secluded spot in my apartment building and take a picture of myself. I could travel wearing a trench coat, but the picture had to be of me wearing no other clothing other than the stockings and heels. I was to give my reply and await further instructions.
This was a no-brainer. I wasn't about to get a piercing. I replied back that I was going to choose taking the pictures. Master replied back with further instructions. Before venturing out, he wanted me to wear my locking ball gag. The trench coat would cover my body, but I was going to have to wear a scarf to cover my mouth. Fortunately, March is still cold in this part of the country, and a scarf won't look too out of place. The picture or pictures I took had to clearly demonstrate that I was indeed outside the apartment. If necessary, I had to take additional pictures of the area to prove I was not still inside my apartment. Master also told me to get the pictures back to him as fast as possible. I was being timed, and the longer I took, the direr the consequences.
As I picked up the locking ball gag, I noticed my mouth had gone dry from nervousness. I went and got one last drink of water before putting on the ball gag. I didn't know when I would get another chance to drink anything. I took a deep breath to calm myself, and slipped the ball gag in my mouth. It wasn't that big since I wanted a ball gag I could wear for an extended period of time. I pulled the straps around my head and slipped a small lock in place. With the click of the lock, I felt my heart quicken and my breathing became labored. I calmed myself down and got ready to continue with my assigned task.
I checked the clock. Fifteen minutes had gone my so far. I wondered how much time I was expected to take. I donned my trench coat and check in the mirror to see if I was appropriately covered. I then carefully wrapped a scarf around my neck and mouth to cover the ball gag. I grabbed the camera and started for the door. I was feeling weak in the knees and sick to my stomach. I had no choice but to press on. I pressed the button for the elevator and looked about nervously for anyone else. As the elevator arrived, I could hear the laughter of a group of guys. I quickly raced away from the elevator door before it opened and got ready to unlock my apartment door. I waited at my apartment door for the elevator to shut and for the men to continue downward. I was having difficulty breathing, as my breathing became heavy with fear. I wobbled back to the elevator and tried again. This time the door opened with no one inside.
I decided to head straight down to the basement parking lot to take the picture. I could wait in my car until the coast was clear if I had to. The trip down the elevator was longer than I remembered. The elevator went straight down and the door opened. The basement was quiet and I stepped out. Just then I noticed a problem. The basement parking lot had video cameras. The first one was pointed right at me. I scanned the ceiling of the lot and I didn't see a spot where I could be certain of not being seen by a camera.
I headed right back in the elevator and went right back to my apartment. That trip took another 15 minutes and I still had no picture. On Saturday, the laundry room would be busy. Then I decided to use the garbage chute room. It was a small room barely big enough for two people. The door to the room could be locked from the inside. Sometimes the doors were locked while maintenance to the chute was being done.
I left the safety of my apartment yet again and headed straight for the chute. I got in the small room and locked the door. The room was dimly lit with a 25-watt bulb. I wondered how I was going to take a picture. The room was barely two feet across. I took off my trench coat and scarf and let them fall to the ground in front of me. I then knelt down and placed the cameral on the floor. I snapped a couple of shots pointed straight up at me from the ground. I straddled the camera and I leaned forward so that the ball gag could be seen. I examined the photos on the camera display. My legs, crotch, breast and ball gag were clearly visible. Master was going to like this picture! As I knelt down to retrieve my coat and scarf, I got the scare of my life. Someone yanked at the door and pulled really hard. I heard a man swear about the damn door being locked again. He shook the door hard trying to jar it open and I prayed that it would hold. He finally gave up and walked away.
Again, I felt myself lacking sufficient air and my heart felt like it was going to explode. I was pressed against the back of the wall and didn't dare move for a couple of minutes. I regained my composure and reclaimed my coat and scarf from the floor. I dressed to exit the small room and listened carefully for any traffic in the hallway.
I opened the door a crack and checked for people. Before leaving
the garbage chute, and turned and took a picture of it from the hallway.
This picture would prove that I did leave my apartment. After I took
the picture, I turned and walked quickly straight to my door. Safely
back in my apartment, I dropped the trench coat and scarf at the door and
kicked off the heels. I raced to the computer and prepared my picture
to send. I included a quick description of my ordeal with the picture.
Master emailed back right away and said that he really enjoyed the
short story and that the picture was most interesting.
However, I was going to have to pay for the amount of time it took me to accomplish my mission. Sixty-five minutes had transpired since I was given my instructions. For every minute I took to complete my mission, I was to spend fifteen minutes in chained bondage. With 65 minutes, that worked out to 16 hours and 15 minutes! It was 12:30 PM now. That meant I would not get released until 4:45 am!
However, Master also said that I could reduce my penitence by performing various activities throughout the day. I was to check my email at the top of every hour, starting at 3 PM to see if he had anything for me to do. As long as I was mobile and had my hands free, I figured I might as well get some housework done. I must have been a sight in my bondage attire doing dishes, vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom. I built up a good sweat and wanted a shower. I removed the thigh-high stockings and hopped in the shower. The warm shower felt nice. I dried off and put on a fresh pair of stockings. I put on a warm bathrobe and crashed on the couch. I set the alarm clock for three and tried to take a nap. Warm showers always me very sensitive. I concentrated on the feelings of the stockings, and I could feel myself getting wet. I resisted the urge to masturbate and closed my eyes and relaxed.
As I drifted off, I wondered what else I would have to do in order to free myself by the end of the day.
Continues in
Chapter Four: Purgatory
Copyright March 2001, Otto Dix
otto_dix@hotmail.com
Comments are welcomed.