Self-Bondage Workout

It seems like a lifetime ago that I discovered self-bondage material on the internet. It was such a liberating experience. Prior to knowing that many other people also practiced self-bondage, I felt such shame and guilt after my bondage sessions. I always promised myself that each time would be the last. I don't know what it is like for the guys, but women aren't supposed to want to be tied up. The feminist movement, despite all the benefits it brings, has equated bondage with submission in the social, political, and economic realms. What I like during sexual activity has nothing to do with how I want to be treated otherwise. Ordinarily, I am an assertive person that demands a high quality of performance from myself and others, and I rarely subjugate myself to the authority of others. I am perplexed at my own compulsion for bondage.

My best self-bondage experience was several years ago while I was still living with my parents. When they announced their plans for a weekend getaway, I automatically began going over scenarios in my mind. I had in mind to accomplish several self-bondage goals.

I imagine that many people that do self-bondage look at it as a challenge. The first challenge is to arrive at an imaginative method of bondage that can be accomplished without the aid of a partner. Of course, the internet is a great tool to getting ideas. Sometimes I lay awake at night mixing up different combinations of self-bondage elements. Double ring devices, cinch loops, breast bondage, crotch ropes, rack-like stretches, contortions like inverted boats and hogties, partial suspensions, mobile bondage, long term bondage, self-torture devices, and on and on.

The second challenge is the method of release. It has to be reliable. The ice-cube in the stocking method is a standard method I use. But, for some scenes, it has to be long-term, and the length of time it takes needs to be unpredictable. Using a creative method of release always increased the level of sexual tension for me.

The third challenge is to find ways to emphasize your feelings of powerlessness, and maintain a high level of anticipation and anxiety. After awhile, just being tied up and waiting for release just doesn't give me the same kick as it used to. I need that adrenaline rush that my first experiences gave me. I considered public self-bondage, but always chickened out. I have no intentions of being a rape victim. When I was barely 17, I mustered up the courage to go buy real sluty lingerie. The idea of being caught bound while wearing that stuff really increased the anxiety level for awhile, but then the lingerie just became part of the routine. More recently, I have been trying to create situations where I would be forced to do things, or be subjected to unpleasant experiences. I would fantasize that I was being controlled by another person, or subjected to his (or her!) torture.

My gears were turning. I wanted to try several new ideas I got off the internet, I wanted at least one really intense experience, and one long term bondage experience. The moment my parents told me of their plans to leave, I started sketching out ideas. On the eve of my parent's departure, I was in a constant state of arousal. I could not wait for them to leave the next morning. I resisted the temptation to masturbate, in order to increase the sexual tension of next day's bondage ordeals.

My parents were only halfway out the driveway and I was already gathering bits and pieces of self-bondage materials from all over the house. Rope, rings, small lengths of chain, locks, etc. The very first thing wanted to do was a "Super-Hogtie". I had seen the instructions on the net months earlier, and was desperate to try it. Up until then, I never managed to find a way to tie my hands behind my back effectively, let alone perform a hogtie. I created my wrist coil first. It was just loose enough for me to slip one hand in at a time. I then prepare the cinch rope that would run from the double rings at my feet to the wrist coil. I made a nice tight hangman's noose at the end of a 6 foot length of cord. Next, I stripped and placed a sharp small kitchen knife at the other end of the living room. I sat on the couch and tied my ankles together, and with the final knots, I tied two small metal rings to my ankles. I grabbed an extra length of rope and tied my knees together as well. Before descending from the couch, I threaded the cinch rope through the rings such that I could pull the noose towards my ankles.

I felt nervous as I lowered myself to the floor. I decided not to included any crotch rope or breast bondage. This was my first time and I wanted to see how it went before being too elaborate. I laid on my stomach and raised my calves straight into the air. I placed both ends of the cinch rope in the small of back. I could feel the nervous rumblings in my stomach, and was excited by having my breasts sandwiched against the carpet. The pressure on my breasts increased as I took the wrist coil in one hand, and then placed both hands behind my back. As I placed one hand through the wrist, I found myself repeating "Oh my God, Oh my God, Oh my God" over and over again. I threaded the wrist coil through the noose, and then placed my free hand through the coil. I grabbed hold of the other end of the cinch rope and placed my head sideways on the carpet, breathing deeply.

I was all set. Nothing else to do except pull on the rope until my ankles came as close as possible to my wrists. Very quickly, I started pulling on the cinch rope, using one hand at a time. As my fingers of one hand pulled down on the line, the fingers of the other reached up to grab the line and continue pulling. I felt my ankles being pulled back, and tension building in my elbows and shoulders as my back arched. The noose tightened, and I felt the wrist coil cinched, capturing my hands. I pulled until the tension of the rope was too strong for my hands to tighten the rope any further.

I was taken aback by the amount of tension and immobility I experienced. My arms were being pulled straight back and held taut. I was overwhelmed by this heightened sense of captivity, and excited that I could manage it through self-bondage. I struggled a bit to see if I could reach the ankle ropes and undo them with my hands. My ankles must have been only inches from my wrists, but they were remaining out of reach of my fingers.

As I was trying to reach my ankle ropes with my hands, I quickly realized that my fingers were getting stiffer. I panicked as I began to feel my hands and fingers begin to throb. I had lost circulation in my hands, and I was rapidly losing any sensation in them. I figured it was time to make my way to knife and cut myself loose. My panic level rose another notch as I discovered how difficult it was to move while hogtied, especially with the knees tied. I could roll to one side or the other, but while on my side I could not move around at all. I would swing my ankles upward and just barely make it back to lying on my stomach. I had three 'points' touching the ground, my knees, my hips, and my chest. I could rest my weight on two at a time and move the third; first the knees, then the hips, then the chest. My breasts twisted against the carpet as I pivoted on my chest.

When I finally got near the knife, I have to line myself up with it exactly in order to be able to reach it with my hands as I rolled to one side. I had to make several attempts before I finally managed to get one hand on the knife. My fingers were very stiff by this point, and I lost almost all feeling in them. I know I had to get the circulation going again very soon. I placed the blade against the cinch rope and sliced through it easily. My body released like a strung bow whose line had snapped. My chest and calves hit the carpet and I could feel some blood start flowing back to my legs and arms.

I discarded the knife, and figured that now that the cinch rope was cut, I could release my hands by pulling apart on the wrist coil and making the noose loosen. I had no such luck. The noose was far too tight for me to loosen. I was still trapped, tied at the ankles, knees, and wrists. I was going to need that knife again. It was much easier to retrieve it without my hands tied to my ankles, but my fingers were very numb and stiff by this point. I needed to carefully slice the wrist coil with the knife, and I had to do it before I lost any more mobility or sensation in my fingers. I palmed the knife handle with the blade towards my elbows, and rested the blade on the ropes between my wrists. All I could do was pull the blade back and forth in small movements, and I was unable to put much pressure on the blade. I was also worried about cutting myself without even knowing. Very patiently, I cut away at the bundle of ropes and after about five minutes of sawing, I finally felt the coil start to give. My fingers and hands were cramped with pain as the coil finally gave way and my hands were free.

I obviously made the wrist coil too tight. If I was to do this again, I would either use a looser coil, or better still, I would get lockable leather wrist cuffs and loop the noose through the d-rings. I wasn't about to try another hogtie that day. That experience was certainly intense enough for my liking. I hit the shower and massaged my sore wrists and examined the carpet burns on my chest, hips and knees. I felt a fair bit of pride from having been able to escape from the bondage. While I relaxed with the warm water flowing over my body, I thought about what to do next. I had thought of trying to produce a mechanism that would drip hot wax on my breast. I imagined myself tied spread-eagled on the floor and squirming and trying to escape the torture of the wax. With only about a day and a half left, of privacy, I figure I would not have enough time to rig and test such a device and still have it safe enough to use in self-bondage.

I got out of the shower and decided that I was ready for a long-term bondage session. The hogtie session was intense enough for one day. I wanted a release mechanism that would take an indefinite period of time. One idea I had was to use a helium balloon, the kind that only last about a day before descending to the ground. I could tie a tiny release key to it and have to wait for it to descend before being released. However, I really didn't want to venture out today to buy a balloon, especially with the wrist marks I had from the hogtie.

Instead, I decided to use the delivery of the Sunday flyers as a release mechanism. Every Sunday morning, a bag of flyers is stuffed into our mail slot. I figured I could hold back the release key with the mail slot door. Then, when the bag is stuffed in the slot, the key will swing within my reach. However, sometime the flyers came a 5 a.m., other times it cam just before noon. That would give me an over night bondage session, and I wouldn't know when I would be set free. I set up my Dad's workout bench near the front door, and prepared the release mechanism and tested it a couple of times. I also set up an emergency release key using a bucket of dyed water on a rope. If the house got fire, I could pull the rope and get free. Otherwise, I could not use the emergency escape without having to explain the big red stain on the carpet. I also put a large plastic drop cloth under the workbench. For the length of time I was to be tied, I would surely have to urinate at some point.

We had a computer in the living room, and it had phone interface software. I set it to answer on the fourth ring, and use the speakerphone option. If anyone called, I would have to speak to him or her. The prospect of trying to maintain a casual conversation while bound made me wet with anticipation. We usually get 6 or 7 calls Saturday night. Either my friends or solicitors or relatives are calling. I didn't want anyone to think I needed help because I wasn't answering the phone, and if my parents called late to see if I was alright, they might send the police to check on the house if I didn't answer. I get sick and tired of reading stories of what happens when "I tied myself up and I'm discovered by two big guys and make me their sex slave. I sucked dick and was fucked in the ass all night long and loved every moment." I have no fantasies of being discovered.

I was about to go get dressed for the occasion when I figured I wanted something more for this session. The likelihood of the phone ringing gave me an idea. I pulled out an old electronics kit. You could make a simple sound activated relay with it. It was supposed to be a "burglar alarm." A loud sound could make a small light turn on, or a buzzer ring. The little 9-volt charge created by the alarm could also run a small electric motor from an old electric car my Dad had taken apart. I attached the small motor to the underside of a table (the screw marks would not be seen under the table), and wound a string around the axle. Every time the phone would ring, the motor would run, and the motor would pull the string. When the phone stopped, the motor would release the tension on the sting.

I went and got dressed. I pulled out the slut costume as I called it. I had a black corset with garters, and stockings to match. I put on a pair of black high heels and tied them on with thin cord to prevent me from removing them. I went to the workout bench and started with a nice tight crotch rope. Before tying myself to the bench, I went and drank several large glasses of water. I could go without food for awhile, but I need to hydrate myself. Part of the suspense of this type of session is wondering when you will have to pee.

I used several long strands of rope to tie myself to the bench. I started with the legs. I bent my knees and brought my feet near the bench, several inches off the ground, and tied my ankles and looped the rope several times around my thighs. My feet hung half way down from the bench. Next, I tied my waist to the bench. The bench was tilted up about 45 degrees so I was leaning back in the bench, almost upright. I finished by tying my chest on the upper portion of the bench. The coils of rope went above and below my breasts. I used smaller cords to cinch the coils between my breasts and on each side.

Before securing my hands behind my back with a small length of chain, I installed a pair of nipple clamps that held on tight to my nipples. Now you know what I am going to use the electric motor for! I attached the string from the electric motor to the middle of the chain of the nipple clamps. When someone calls, the phone will ring four times before the computer answers. Each time it rings, the motor is going to pull on the clamps. I just hope my screams will stop before the caller can hear me.

I placed the loop of the emergency escape bucket on my left wrist and then wrapped a chain around it. I brought both hands behind me and placed the chain around the other wrist and threaded the lock and left it open for a few minutes. I looked around to see that I thought of everything. I could rest comfortably in the reclined workout bench, and, if I had to, I could let myself urinate. It was about 4 in the afternoon, and I had to wait until sometime tomorrow morning for my release. Of course, in the meantime, I would be subjected to random nipple torture. When and how often was a mystery. I took a deep breath and closed the second lock on the right wrist. I spent the first hour squirming against my crotch rope until the first of several calls came.

It was going to be a long night.

20/08/01