Straitjacket Selfbondage 4

Part 4

I was stuck. I had planned, ever so elaborately, for the 'perfect' straightjacket self-bondage: I wouldn't be able to get out of it at all, however hard I tried, so I would be -and feel- completely helpless for 24 hours, After which my partner would come in to set me free. And I knew I could face the long bondage session, because self bondage left me tied less stringently than at the efficient hads of my partner, so I would have enough freedom to change positions and adjust over time, avoiding the pains of strict immobility.

First I had put myself in self-bondage: straightjacket, legsack, hogtie, gag, a hood to top it off. And both my legs and hood were tied to the bed, preventing me from going walkabout. That is where things started to veer off plan. My partner had unexpectedly come, and found nothing better than to tighten everry strap, every lace, every buckle. She then added a transport jacket on top of the one I was already strapped in, making everything that much tighter and more uncomfortable. And, just to make matters more frustrating for me, she had milked me twice, removing any lust or desire to be bound. I only wanted out now, but it did not seem that she and I were thinking alike, and there was nothing I could do except squirm, sweat and grunt.

I was terrified at the thought that she had left me like this for 24 hours. Because, while none of the bonds were, in themselves life-threatening or murderously uncomfortable, wearing them for such a long period could be most painful and/or dangerous. Already the transport jacket on top of a more traditional one made any arm movement whatsoever impossible. That prevented the changes of position that anyone bound for such a long time makes, that let muscles move a bit and prevent the onset of pain. The tight hogtie made it impossible for me to unfold and stretch my legs. It also made it extremely difficult for me to turn over from my side to my back and then on to my other side. Not being able to thus change positions was going to make me seriously sore before long. The transport jacket made any arm movement impossible, and increased the pressure on my chest and on my breathing, which was already limited by my hood and gag.

But I soon found that all of this was not the most pressing problem I had. As I tried to listen for noises that would be signs of my partner, my neck muscles started sending distress signals. I was on my side, and holding my head straight was stressing them out. I knew that letting my head hang on my shoulder would be equally uncomfortable. What I always have for long-term bondage is a pillow which I can rest my head on, whether I am on my back, or, as now, on my side. But I had not planned on my partner upsetting my careful preparations, and as she tightened the strap that tied my legs to the bed, she had put the pillow out of my reach. This was only made worse of course by the extra weight that the gag and hood added to my head, and soon I was desperately looking for relief.

The obvious solution was to try and lie on my back. Even though a pillow would be most wlecome, the position would be a lot less unpleasant, even without one, for my neck. So I tried to twist my body so as to shift from my side to my back. But when I tied straps down my back in order to create the self-hogtie, I had connected them to my straightjacket at shoulder level. In my previous attemps, this had not been a problem, because they had not been tight, due to the self-bondage. But, in this case, my partner had tightened them up considerably. My feet were therefore pulled back as far as they would go, and the straps formed a kind of triangle with my legs and my body. So when I tried to turn, my feet formed an obstacle that prevented me from getting on my back. In effect, I would have had to raise myself on my feet, thus lifting my butt and chest, to achieve the turn, and I did not have enough leverage to do this. Plus of course the considerable weight, tightness and stiffness of my restraints much redcuued my ability for any kind of movement. I was stuck!

Of course, I could rest my neck by turning onto my belly, but that was not an appetizing prospect. My chest would rest on my arms, further pushing them into my chest, and restricting even more an already limited breathing ability. I was beginning to think that there was no way I could last the full 24 hours, at least not without entering a realm of pain and discomfort well beyond anything I had endured in my bondage life so far.

Then I received a shock: out of the blue, totally unprepared, I had just been slapped. Not that it really hurt, because the thick leather hood offered good protection for that, but the surprise made me jump out of my skin.

Then her voice, "So, my sweet, feeling good, or do you want to negotiate how you will spend the next 24 hours? If you want to negotiate, nod you head twice. And remember how powerless you are, so don't do anything to annoy me, else, I might show you just how good I am at making matters more and more unpleasant for you...."

Needless to say, I almost fainted from relief. She was still there, and I was going to get my way out of the worst of this bondage. So I energetically nodded twice.

"Well, my sweet, this is what is on offer. You have done everything to be bound and left alone for 24 hours, and that is what it will be. But, in fairness, you did not expect that I would come and, shall we say, 'intensify' your experience. So you will be able to negotiate your way out of three bindings, whichever are the most problematic for you. I will remove them, and replace them with only 2 other bindings of my choice. If there is any attempt on your part to even think about objecting, you will simply get your three bindings back, plus the two new ones, all at maximum tightness. I don't recommend this..."

"So, I will name your various bindings, and you nod your head at the three you want removed. But, just so that you should know, the straightjacket and legsack are not on the list. They stay on. You see, I am being nice, because I know they are so comfortable for long stretches... so, what will it be?"

I heard her name my bindings, and had precious little time to make up my mind. When she mentioned the transport jacket, I knew I had to nod, having it off would make my life a lot better, as I would get back some arm movement back, as well as easier breathing. My second choice was just as obvious, with the hogtie strap. That way I would be able not only to bend my knees, but also to turn on my back and sides at will. This was beginning to feel good. My third choice was the hood. That way I would see and hear, and the pressure on my head would go away. Maybe she was only taking away three bindings, but I was getting a lot back....

So, true to her word, she removed the hogtie strap, and the transport jacket. I stretched with immense relief. But why was she not taking off the hood? Before I could find out, I felt some kind of movement around my feet, and she lifted them to slip something over them. I instinctively stiffened, only to be reminded by a severe -and last- warning that any attempt to object or resist would bring every binding back with interest, so that I would best cooperate.... so I relaxed, determined to let her do what she had in mind, and fearful that she would make good on her threat in case I tried anything...

I felt her pulling some kind of fabric over and under my legs. Then I understood! My mailsack, she was going to to put me in the mailsack! For 24 hours!!! This mailsack is like an oversized, overstrength canvas and leather mailbag. It is mostly used for suspension, and is one of the most intense trips for bondage enthusiasts, because the body's own weight makes the sack tighter, slowly squeezing the person into an ever tighter ball. Breathing in such a compressed position and inside the bag is not the easiest, to say the least, and hardened subs have been known to lose it totally within minutes, such is the intensity of the experience. So I knew there and then that I couldn't possibly withstand 24 hours inside a suspended mailsack. So I desperately tried to stop her slipping me into it, and grunted for dear life.

"What is it, my sweet? Getting weak-kneed? Losing your nerve? How many times have you told me that wished you had been pushed just a bit further out, stretched just a bit more, because that is where you feel that loss of control really happens? So the more you try to plead for me not to put you in the bag, which you have obviously guessed, the more you make me determined to do it to you. And, needless to say, you can grunt and squirm all you want, your straightjacket and legsack prevent you for any meaningful resistance. Now you remember what I said, that if you tried to resist, I would put the 3 bindings back on, plus the two new ones. Well you were informed, then warned, but still couldn't behave yourself. Consider yourself lucky that I don't put you right back into the full tight ball tie before sacking you up."

I felt her rummaging inside the sack where my ankles were, and soon, despite my efforts and my fears, she was pulling them back in a hogtie again. Similarly, I felt her put the transport jacket against my chest, and then tighten every strap. She then resumed sliding my bound body into the mailsack, and there was nothing I could do to stop her, in my straightjacketed, legsacked, hogtied and hooded condition. The one possibility I would have had to prevent that is that the mail sack is not deep enough that I can stand up in it, so closing it requires me to be in a folded position. The hogtie already guaranteed part of that. All she needed to close it was to force me to bend my head down. When I resisted, grunting desperately that this had long ago stopped being within acceptable limits and that I wanted out and not to be suspended for 24 hours, she must have taken some rope, which she threaded through the D-ring on the top of the hood and connected to my knees or wherever, and then pulled tight. There was nothing I could do, I was inexorably forced to lower my head and fold over. Things were only getting worse and worse. I then felt and heard her grab the massive metal rings that both close the bag and allow it to be suspended, and close them together with some kind of padlock or connector. I was in the bag, and not getting out unless she willed it. What had I gotten myself into?

I felt her hands do something on top of my head, through the thick canvas of the bag, and thought 'No, this can't be happening, she wants to make it worse!!!' and tried to plead desperately for dear life. But, surprisingly, I felt my head freed. She had undone the rope tieing it down, and I felt immediately a whole lot better, breathing easier, and being able to strech somewhat in the oversize bag. A minute later, she had also undone the hogtie strap. I could now stretch inside the bag, and move around, up to a point. But it didn't change the fact that I had never been suspended for longer than a couple of hours, and that there was no way I could see myself surviving 24 hour inside that suspended bag, crushed by my own weight...

I felt her dragging the sack to the edge of the bed. Strange, as she could just use the electric hoist above it to lift the sack in the air with its content... Then nothing, until I heard, despite the dual barrier of the sack and the leather hood, some clacking sounds. Then, more dragging, I felt I was falling off the bed's edge, but not onto the floor, more like into something. It felt like a container, and now she was closing the lid, pushing on it and squeezing me until it fit, with a clang. She had put me in the cage!!!

"OK my sweet, now I think that you are ready for your session to really begin. You have always yearned for an inescapable situation, and I think you can call it that. In a straightjacket and legsack, plus the added bonus of a transport jacket, plus a hood and gag, inside the mailsack, and caged in steel. Now you noticed that I undid your head strap and hogtie one as well. So this gives me, so to say, a credit of 2 bindings. This is how I intend to use them: I will come and visit you from time to time, and use straps and bars. The straps can be around the sack to restrict the space you have inside, and the bars which I will slide inside the cage bars will restrict how much you can move inside the cage. I expect that, come the end of the time, you will be thouroughly immobilized, to the point that moving your toes will be just about the most you will be able to do. Yes, I know, this is exactly what you crave, but no need to thank me. Good bye, and behave yourself, my sweet!"

18.08.10