Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Spare Room

by Jenny Bonici

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© Copyright 2002 - Jenny Bonici - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; naked; harness-gag; toys; insert; latex; briefs; tape; spare-room; stuck; climax; messy; true; cons/reluct; X

The True Story Of 24 Hours In Self-Imposed Bondage.

The Background

Don’s job had taken him interstate for the week. He rang me at work on Thursday and told me that he now wouldn’t be back until very late on Friday evening. That was a pity as I had all of Friday off. The period from when I left work on the Thursday evening until Don got home just before midnight the next day turned out to be one that I’ll never forget. A full day is a long time to be stuck in bondage – especially when you brought it on yourself. So I’ve decided to write down a warts-and-all account of what it’s really like to be tied up for 24 hours. So read on.

Home From Work

I just couldn’t wait to get home that Thursday evening. I was annoyed that I had to work later than usual. I hurried down to the station; it was spitting with rain and I hadn’t brought an umbrella. I had missed my usual train and had to wait about 20 minutes for the next one. The train trip seemed to take forever but eventually it pulled into the local station. It was only a 10-minute walk to our apartment from there. It was about twenty past eight when I slipped the key into the lock and went in; glad to be in the warm and out of the drizzling rain. I took off my damp coat and went into the kitchen. I made myself a cup of coffee and cooked an omelette. I was starving. I glanced through the paper as I ate. I looked at the clock, it was nearly 8.30. I hadn’t realised that it was as late as that. As there was nothing much on TV and, because it was still raining, I decided not to go down to the club and, instead, to stay at home and try a little self-bondage before I turned in. 

Preparing For Fun

I stripped off my clothes and left them in an untidy heap on the bed. Then I pulled our Toy Box out from the bottom of the wardrobe and started to rummage through it. On the top was a roll of duct tape. I thought that tape would be easy to get off when I’m ready to release myself – or when I managed to get to the scissors and cut myself free. But first, my favourite gag – the harness gag with the big red ball. I pulled it out of the box, pushed the ball into my mouth and buckled the straps tight. I got up and looked at myself in the mirror. I couldn’t help tightening the straps just one more notch – especially the one that when under my chin. 

There is no point in submitting to self-bondage if you don’t get some sexual satisfaction out of it. So a dildo is a must. I got one out of the drawer in the bedside table, put a couple of new batteries in it and smeared it with KY Jelly. I also worked some Jelly into my pussy. “Slow down, girl” I thought, “You’ll get yourself off before you’ve finished the bondage.” I slid the dildo in my hot expectant love-box and, although I was tempted to turn it on at full power, I somehow managed to resist flicking the switch. Then picked up a butt plug. “To hell with it: this is going in too.” With that I slid the butt plug all the way into my ass. ‘Now to keep them in.” I open the dressing table drawer and found a pair of tight latex briefs. I did not have time to powder them; I just pulled them on and worked them so that they were a snug fit round my crotch.

That done, I went into the kitchen to get a pair of scissors. Then it was back to the box to get the tape. I sat on the edge of the bed and bound my ankles; six turns should be enough. Then I did the same to my legs just above my knees. The effort needed to pull the duct tape off the reel ensured that my ankles and knees were tightly bound. Now for my wrists. But I needed something fixed on which I could put the reel of tape so that I could use it as an anchor whilst I wound the tape round my wrists. “The spare room”, I thought. The only thing in there is the old cat scratching post – I could use that (we not longer had a cat). 

Picking up the reel of tape I hopped out of the bedroom, down the short hallway and into the spare room. There was the cat post over by the far wall of an otherwise completely empty room (we had not afforded furniture for it at that time). I pushed the reel of tape on to the top of the carpet covered post. It was a tight fit but it slid on. I pulled a short length of tape off the reel and wrapped it round my left wrist as an anchor. Then I pushed my fingers down the front of my pants and switched on the vibrator. Turning my back on the post and standing on its base to stop it moving or falling over, I put the palms of my hands together behind me and started moving my wrists round and round the top of the post. It took quite a lot of tugging to pull the tape off the reel and so there was no problem with my wrists not being tightly bound. 

After four or five times round I found that the tape was now going round over the back of my hands. With the next few turns my fingers were encased as well. I bent my knees a bit so that I could work the tape up to my wrists again. I thought that I would have used up all the tape on the reel by now but it seemed to go on forever. To use it up quicker I started turning my whole body round so that the tape went round my waist and then back over my wrists and forearms binding them tightly to my body. Again the force needed to get the tape off the reel ensured that the binding was really tight. I had to turn myself round four times before I’d used up all the tape on the reel. With one final tug I pulled the end of the tape off the reel. 

By now the vibrator was beginning to control me. Any minute now I was going to cum. I leant with my back to the wall; I was hot as Hell, my pussy and the whole of the bottom half of my body was about to explode. Only my gag stopped me from waking up the neighbourhood as the first earth-shattering orgasm hit. I was willing the vibrator to stop so I could be let down slowly, but it just buzzed, wriggled and throbbed on. By now I was squatting with my back against the wall and my knees almost up to my chest when I came again.

“I must get back to the bedroom.” Once there all I’ve got to do then is find the scissors in the dark and cut myself loose. “Oh ho, that could be a problem with the tape covering my fingers!” But, anyway, I thought, I could always hop into the kitchen and get a knife, failing that I could use a doorknob or the corner of some piece of furniture to work the tape off my wrists. “Now let’s get back into the bedroom.” 

Now I’m Really In A Fix

I started to hop towards the door but, as I neared it, I tripped and my shoulder hit the edge of the door and it slammed shut with me left lying on the floor. “Oh Shit” or words to that effect I mmmmphed into my gag. Leaning with my back to the wall I got myself standing up again. But there was no way that I could reach the doorknob with my hands, even if they were not covered in duct tape. I tried wedging the doorknob between the strap of my gag and my cheek. The strap was too tight for this idea to even start to work. 

“OK, now for plan C” what ever that was going to be. “I can try my feet!” I got myself down onto the floor again manoeuvred myself round until I could get my legs up the wall beside the door. Finally I was taking almost all my weight on my shoulders and my feet were either side of the knob. Failed again! I simply could not turn my feet enough to rotate the smooth round knob to open the door - anyway, the knob was slipping between my feet. Even if I had turned it far enough, the weight of my heels on the door would have kept it closed. I dropped back to the floor.

“Now what am I going to do? At least I can see what I’m doing as I’m not blindfolded and the light is on in the room. “Oh Shit!” (Again!) There were no curtains on the windows so people could see in from across the street. I reckoned that they could only see me if I stood up. But I’d be OK if I remained sitting on the floor. However, it was worth one try to switch off the light. I struggled to my feet again, got over to the switch by the door and turned it off with the strap of my gag. 

Time Now Seems To Go Real Slow

Over the next hour or so my brain worked overtime trying to figure out a way to get the tape off my wrists. A bare room didn’t help - nor did the vibrator that still buzzed away inside me. There was nothing in the room that had a corner or knob that I could use to try and loosen the tape. The cat post was no help either as it was covered in carpet and had rounded corners. I had another unsuccessful attempt at the doorknob. At best I’d be able to get myself free, at worst I’m stuck like that until Don gets back – and that’s 24 hours away at least.

What was the time? It was probably about 11 o’clock – already I’d begun to lose all track of time. My ass ached from sitting on the floor – the butt plug didn’t help. The vibrator was still doing its work. I’d cum again, weakly this time. The batteries must run down soon. 

No matter what position I got myself into I just could not get comfortable. On my back I was laying on my bound arms. On my side the pressure was on my shoulder and hip bone. On my front with my knees bent and feet resting against the wall was probably the best. But even this became uncomfortable after a short time – and the rough texture of the carpet didn’t help. By now I was resigned to being in that room until Don returned. That didn’t stop me from struggling with my bonds at fairly regular intervals.

At last I dozed off sitting in the corner with my shoulders wedged in the angle of the walls. I woke up with a start. I was cold. I had no idea what time it was. It was still dark. I guessed that it could have been about 3 a.m. – but it might not have even been midnight. My jaws ached. At least the vibrator had finally stopped buzzing away inside me. The inside of my latex pants were wet and clammy with my juices. I struggled with my bonds some more with the same lack of success as with the earlier tries. The time seemed to drag on. The palm of my left hand itched and there was no way that I could scratch it. But worse was to come, I got another itch in the middle of my back. I tried lying on my back and rubbing the itchy patch on the carpet but my bound arms got in the way. No matter how I wriggled and twisted there was no way that I could get at that itchy spot. The more I tried, the worse the itch seemed to get.

At last the hint of daybreak lit up the horizon. But what time was dawn? Probably about 5.30 a.m. this time of year. Then it struck me that I was facing another 18 hours of this torture. That was the cue for some more futile struggling – I had certainly done a good bondage job on myself. Now I had another problem – I desperately wanted to pee. I held it for another couple of hours but finally I felt a warm, wet sensation in my pants a soon found myself sitting in a wet patch on the carpet. I manoeuvred myself to another corner of the room. God, I ached all over. I moved myself into a different position and tried wriggling my fingers and toes to keep the circulation going; but still I ached. Drool was still running from the corners of my mouth, down my chin and was dripping onto my boobs. I was a mess.

Fear Of Being Stuck Like This For Days Blots Is Worse Than All The Aches And Pains

I opened my eyes. I was lying on the floor; I must have dropped off to sleep again. I looked up; the sun was a lot higher in the sky now. A sure sign that an hour of two had passed with me sleeping in one position was that I had cramp and again I ached all over. I could hear the sound of traffic and people in the street. The phone rang. Was that Don ringing to tell me that he now would not be home until Saturday or Sunday? The phone finally stopped only to ring again about 5 minutes later. I was gripped with panic. “If he doesn’t get back until Sunday, I could be dead!” I struggled some more. “ I must get free.” Two, three, four hours later I was still bound as tightly as I was last night.

I seemed to be getting darker now – probably only about another 6 hours to go! I’d survived for about 18 hours so I could manage another 6. A big problem was that I now wanted to go to the bathroom. I could feel my body trying to eject the butt plug. Unless I could hold on I knew that I was facing a messy end. Now my stomach was aching too. I let myself pee again as I thought that this could relieve the pressure building up inside me. Time for a move to another dry spot. 

There was a knock on the front door. Oh help - could that be Don home a bit early but had forgotten his key and couldn’t get in. More knocks then silence. Although by this time I was completely exhausted and aching in every joint and muscle I was keenly alert to every little noise hoping that one would be that of Don returning.

It was dark now – it must have been somewhere between 7 and 8. To relieve my aches I decided to try standing up for a while. After quite an effort I got to my feet and hopped across to the opposite wall where I could get a view of the driveway. This was not a wise move as the effort and the removing of the pressure of my weight on the end of the butt plug resulted in a rather smelly disaster. God, I was in even more of a mess now. At least the drool was no longer dribbling from my mouth – in fact my mouth was dry and felt like it was full of ashes. How I longed for a drink.

Don must be home soon. Then the phone rang again. This time I was convinced that it was Don telling me that he wouldn’t be home for a day or two. The street seemed deserted – it must be very late, or was it just a lull in the traffic? I tried to convince myself that it was late, but in the back of my mind I kept thinking that if it was that late, Don should have been home by now. I slumped to the floor, partly from tiredness and partly from despair. 


I was half asleep when I heard the front door slam and footsteps in the hall. Don was back; I was going to be free. I heard him go into the bedroom then return and head off to the kitchen. He probably thought that I’d slipped round to a friend’s place. There was no way that I could call out to him with this gag filling my aching mouth. There was only one thing for it – get across the room and hammer on the door. After a bit of hammering with my feet Don came along to find out what all the noise about. He opened the door. 

“What the …?” he exclaimed when he saw me, but then realising that I’d done this myself, he smiled as said, “Oh, my little girl has been caught out with a bit of self-bondage. That’ll teach you a lesson.” He leant down and undid the buckles on the gag. I burst into tears at the relief of seeing him. “How long have you been like this?” he asked. 

“ Since last night.” I replied. “Cut me loose and I’ll go and clean myself up. I’ll tell you all about it after I’ve had a bath – and can you get me something to eat, I’m starving.” 

“Where are the scissors?” he asked. I told him that they were in the bedroom. He was soon cutting though the duct tapes. Even with fairly sharp scissors cutting through the tapes took a bit of an effort – I wondered how I would have managed with my taped wrists and hands. “I’ll leave you to pull them off your skin – that may be a bit painful.” 

It was bliss just to be able to move my arms again. He headed off towards the kitchen, pausing at the door before he left to tell me with a wink that he thought that I should be punished for not making sure that I could get out of my self-imposed bondage. 

“So, young Lady” he added, “You’ll have to spend a lot more time securely tied up this weekend.” 

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