Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Stuffed Stocking

by Sinthia

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© Copyright 2019 - Sinthia - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; present; cuffs; stocking; bagged; hobble; nipple; toys; insert; ziptie; stuck; discovery; M/f; release; sex; bond; repacked; oral; climax; true; cons; X

Continues on from the story: Stuffed Stocking & Stuffed Stocking Redux

Stuffed Stocking – Round Three

For the two previous Christmases, I presented myself to my boyfriend Steve naked, bound and ‘stuffed’ into a specially modified giant Christmas stocking. The principal modification was to line it with Kevlar (as well as make the suspension loops with it), making the stocking strong enough to suspend me (see ‘Stuffed Stocking’) or inescapably encase me (see ‘Stuffed Stocking Redux). In that last episode, he wound up dragging me by his cock and balls (read the story) as I shuffled along with his cock stuck in my mouth en route to getting the keys for our release. Although this trek had no impact on the Kevlar lining, it did a job on the felt on the sole of the stocking, making it unsightly to say the least.

Rather than throw out the felt this year, however, I decided that I could repurpose it one more time by making a strategic hole in the sole near the heel (for my head and neck to go through) and converting the ‘toe’ into a hoodie. To do this I carefully removed the Kevlar lining (this could be used again) and made the necessary modifications on my sewing machine. I also added a boa of white marabou feathers to decorate the front edge of the hood. I now had a festive red felt ‘tube dress’ with a matching hood and thick white plush hem. Trying it on I found that it was quite snug – particularly at my boobs and butt, but this wasn’t really a surprise as it was even more snug the previous two years with the lining (which was actually pretty thin).

So, my plan this year was to bind myself inside this, such that I could not get to the release keys (this time dangling from my festive red leather posture collar – not going to repeat the fiasco of last year where I couldn’t communicate the location of the keys to Steve). I’d be ring-gagged (of course), wrists cuffed behind me, tits adorned with nipple clamps to really bring home that ‘snugness’ and wearing bright red pumps with 5” heels that would be locked to my ankles with thin chains. I would be laid out under the Christmas tree as Steve’s special present for him to do as he would with me. Perfect!

It was finally late afternoon of Christmas Eve (although the sun was still up) and time for me to put my plan into action. First, I decided to give myself a few presents to keep me occupied while waiting for him. I learned last year the potent effect of combining a large remote-controlled bullet vibrator in the vagina with labia jewelry which is secured by clipping around the clitoris and inner lips (sounds ghastly but actually feels pretty good). A steel metal butt plug completes the package. When the vibrator is pulled out by its antenna so that it is just inside the labia, the vibrations are transmitted by the jewelry directly to the clit and butt plug. Amazing!!!

So, first I lubed up the metal plug and my anus and carefully guided it home until my sphincter clamped down on its narrow neck. I sure didn’t need lube for the vibrator as I was pretty excited by this time. I then expanded the clamp to get it around my clit and lips and carefully let it snug onto them. I then pulled on the wire antenna that was sticking out until the bullet was pressing on the clamp. As I did last year, I put a miniature lock though the holes at the ends of the clamp and clicked it shut, ensuring no further entry or exit from my vagina until the lock was removed (did I mention that I peed just before I started this? Would be bad to have to relieve myself with the exit effectively sealed).

Next, I put on my red leather wrist and ankle cuffs, as well as my posture collar with D-rings, and locked them on. I turned my attention to my feet and slipped on the pumps. I then wound a thin chain around each heel, then around my ankle (kind of like a figure 8) and put a small lock where they met in back for each shoe, binding the shoes to my feet.

Nipple clamps were next on the agenda. I thought about clover clamps, but they really are too intense for me, so I went with adjustable tweezer clamps and hung a small lock from each one as a weight to remind me with each motion that they were there.

Gag time. Last year I used my special spider gag where the straps are attached outside of the mouth to maximize the inner diameter of the ring. That almost worked, but it turned out that the inner dimension was just small enough to work as an effective cock ring for Steve’s dick and wound up getting him stuck in my mouth (like I said, read the story). This year I got a plastic O-ring with a larger inner-diameter with a lockable strap that was surprisingly comfortable despite its relatively large dimension (2-1/8-inch outer diameter). I put it in place, snicked the lock in back, and then, to keep me quiet (and limit drooling) I popped a small foam ball through it into my mouth. By experience, it can be easily pulled out from the outside, but not pushed out with my tongue.

Time to put on my hoodie dress. First, I bunched it up so that I could pop my head and collar through the hole and position the hood over my head. I then reached up on both sides and maneuvered the hem over and down my shoulders and over my boobs. I winced as the hem caught the locks on the nipple clamps, but I quickly was able to disentangle them for smooth passage thereafter.

Before I got it lower than my waist, I went to my desk where I had my keychain and locks. Also, the remote control for the vibrator. I clipped the keys to the front of my collar, grabbed my bag of locks and the remote, and headed for the foyer and the Christmas tree. I figured I should do a ‘dry run’ before committing myself to helplessness by first pulling the dress all the way down. Getting it past my butt with my arms extending below it was a bit of a challenge, but I was able to get the hem all the way down to my ankles.

I realized though, that even with my wrists cuffed behind me, I’d be able to pull up the skirt and, in fact, when I moved, walked or writhed (which is what I’d be limited to on the floor) the skirt rode up on its own, spoiling the ‘look’ I had envisioned and potentially exposing me as well. Unfortunately, with my wrists cuffed behind me, I would be limited in terms of how far I could push it back down. What to do?

I pondered this for a few moments and remembered that I had on ankle cuffs that I was not using and wondered if there was a way I could secure the hem to those cuffs. Locks? No – too much fabric. Chains? No – too cold. Zip ties? Yes – perfect. All I would need to do would be to make a small slit in each hem and snake the zip tie through it and the adjacent ring on the ankle cuffs. I knew there were some large zip ties in the garage, as well as a utility knife that I could use to make the holes in the fabric. First, I needed to plan this out as once I had secured the ties, I would not be able to get my hands into a useful position outside of the dress.

As such, I grabbed the remote for the vibrator and put it on a low setting. Mmmmm – that felt so good. Not enough to get me off, but enough to keep me occupied (and distracted as it would turn out). I also grabbed the larger padlock that I would use to secure my wrist cuffs together and took it with me into the adjacent garage (which was heated, mercifully). Once there, I got the utility knife and a couple of long, sturdy zip-ties. I made a small slit on each side of the hem an inch or so from the edge and put the knife away. I then looped the hasp of the lock over the nipple chain (had to put it somewhere I could reach once the ties were in place) and let out a muffled gasp as gravity did its thing. Grasping the ties, I pulled the skirt down to the cuffs, but this bent me over with my butt in the air and my balance was very precarious on the 5” heels, so I decided to regroup and sit in a wicker chair we had there on a landing to the side of the door from the main house. Bending over was much more straightforward and stable.

I threaded the tie first through the slit and took the far end brought it under the hem, inside the skirt and up through the cuff ring. At this point, the vibrations in my groin were beginning to get to me in a most pleasurable way, particularly bent over with my weight on my crotch rather than the back of my butt. Refocusing, I then threaded the upper end downward through the cuff ring, slid the tab of the tie through the open ‘head’ and pulled tight hearing the satisfying ‘zzzip’ as the tape ratcheted through. I then went to reach to repeat the process for my right ankle but found that my right wrist cuff was secured to both the left ankle cuff and the hem of the skirt. Must have lost my concentration from the damn vibrator when I secured the tie!

OMG! I’m stuck! I’m bent over in the garage with no way to free myself, nor let Steve (or anyone else) know where I am. I try to yell for help but the foam in the ring gag effectively muzzles me. I can’t do anything useful with my left arm or hand, even though it is not secured to anything, because it’s trapped in what has now become a hobble skirt. In addition to being limited to reaching out the end of the skirt where there is nothing to reach for, being folded the way I am, I can’t bring my left hand up my body to relieve the pull of that damn weight I put on the nipple chain, let alone reach up through the neck hole and secure my keys which could release the cuffs. Heck, I can’t even get my hand above my knees!

I’m afraid to try to stand as bent over like this, as with the heels, I think I would just topple over onto my face, and it’s not clear to me what standing up would accomplish. I am truly fucked. Panic starts to set in. I try snapping the tie by making sharp tugs with my wrist, but the nylon is way too strong for me to break. The enormity of what I’ve done hits me and coupled with the incessant vibration in my groin I feel the familiar build-up deep inside that precedes an orgasm and I soon cum intensely and the vibrator, even though it is on low, makes the orgasm roll on for a long time before the sensations start to fade.

“Well, now I don’t feel so bad!” I think to myself, however reality soon sets in again and how helpless and alone I really am. “Some fucking Merry Christmas,” I mutter if I could mutter, gagged as I am. “Thanks God the garage is heated,” I muse. Time goes by slowly and the vibrations of my little companion are becoming perceptibly weaker as daylight fades into dusk. Suddenly, I see headlights coming up the driveway. “Oh please, please, pull in the garage,” I pray, but the car swings around the circular drive and stops out of sight, presumably at the front walk which is where Steve prefers to park most days. I hear the engine switch off, then the clunk of a car door closing followed by several seconds of silence before I hear the house alarm chirp, signaling that the front door had been opened.

I grunt and rock and stomp my right foot to try to make as much noise as I can to signal Steve that I’m here, effectively naked, bound and gagged in the garage and that I need him to save me. Unfortunately, and despite my fervent efforts, I make barely a sound, the hobble restricting how much I can move my right leg, limiting my stomps to light taps – certainly not something he can hear inside.

Unbeknownst to me, upon entering the foyer, Steve saw the remote control and bag of locks on the floor and realized that I was conspicuously absent. He immediately went on a search of the house, going from room to room, starting in our bedroom.

Meanwhile, back in the garage, it was nearly pitch black – the only illumination being the distant streetlights and the cloud-shrouded moonlight filtering through the windows. It must have been getting colder, too, as the two garage heaters switched on. They made an ungodly racket, but this was almost a relief compared to the silence where all I could hear was my rapidly beating heart.

Just then, I hear the door from the house fling partway open and the light from the hallway dimly illuminate the far side of the garage. I could not see very well because of the limitation of the posture collar and my folded posture but could see that the door was between me and Steve who was calling my name and asking me if I was in here. I immediately started grunting and tapping my right foot, but I feared my efforts would be drowned out by the heaters and, my fears were confirmed when, after a pregnant pause, I hear the door shut and the garage go dark again.

I ‘lost it’ at this point and began to sob incessantly. That had been my best, and perhaps only chance for discovery and rescue in any kind of timely fashion. Also, I could feel the pressure begin to build in my bladder. What would happen if I had to try to pee, clamped up as I was? Would I dribble all over the cushioned chair if the seal of the labia was not perfect? Or worse, if it was perfect, would my bladder burst from being unable to void?

Once Steve had done a preliminary sweep of the house and not found me but had seen my car in the other part of the garage, he vowed to redouble his efforts to find me. First, he checked to see if there were any footprints in the snow by any of the outside doors (other than his own on the un-shoveled path to the front door). Seeing none, he correctly concluded that it was almost certain that I was somewhere on the premises. He decided to do a more thorough search, again starting in our bedroom, but this time also looking in every closet, cabinet and nook and cranny that could harbor a person my size.

Eventually, and it seemed like hours although it was probably less than one, he returned to the garage. This time he turned on the lights and stepped into the garage and immediately saw this pathetic figure in red and white folded over in a wicker chair, head facing straight ahead with tears and mascara running down her face.

“Sinthia!” he shouted, “What happened to you?”

Not really being in a position to answer I just grunted and bobbed up and down, showcasing that I was gagged and inarticulate – also to draw his attention to the jingling keys hanging from my collar.

He was over to me in a nanosecond and deftly unclipped the keyring, sized up the situation with the gag, and pulled the hood off of me, exposing the locked clasp of the gag. Fumbling with the keys, he soon unlocked the clasp, released it, then carefully removed the ring from my mouth. I immediately spit the foam ball out of my mouth, followed by what must have been a gallon of pent-up drool which ran down my chin and dress – very becoming, to say the least.

I worked my jaw to relieve some of the pain as I had been gagged for who knows how many hours (turns out it was about 5 when I had planned to be gagged no more than one or 1 and a half hours at most).

He again asked me what happened and I then blurted out the whole scenario – how I had planned to be his present under the tree, that at the last minute I decided to secure the hem to the ankle cuffs and accidentally secured my right wrist to the left cuff and him which rendered me stuck, on top of all the other restraints and constraints to which I had subjected myself. I confided that I had never felt so helpless and scared as I was alone in the dark with no way to let you know where I was and what had happened.

Steve immediately went to the tool cabinet and grabbed a pair of clippers and quickly cut the zip-tie that had rendered me helpless. For the first time in hours I was able to sit upright and move my arms, as well. I don’t know whether it was from an adrenaline rush, or what, but I physically started shaking. He pulled me to my feet and held my in a tight embrace.

“When I saw the locks and vibrator remote in the foyer, but no sign of you, I got so worried,” he whispered to me.

He gently grasped my shoulders and pushed me away, just enough so that we were staring into each other’s eyes. “I don’t know what I would do if something awful had happened to you, I love you so much.”

And with that, our lips met and we fell into a passionate embrace, with urgent, almost desperate kisses which seemed to go on forever. Gone was my fear, sorrow, and despair. All I felt now was lust and judging from the rock-hard bulge I could feel though my tube skirt and his pants, he felt the same way. I managed to bring my hands up my shoulders and pressed my palms against his well-muscled chest, as there was some leeway in the tightness of the tube above my breasts.

Steve abruptly, hiked my skirt to my waist and then gently pushed me back into the wicker chair with my butt at the edge and spread my legs. He quickly saw that my pussy was off limits with the ‘chastity jewelry’ in place, but still had the keys and quickly removed the lock, clip and vibrator. He then released his belt and unzipped his trousers, letting them and his shorts drop to his ankles, his rock-hard cock standing to attention. He unceremoniously grasped my ankles and, once again, folded me in half - my legs against my body, but this time with my knees pushing into my breasts and my feet by my ears.

By this time I was soaking wet and he drove himself into my pussy with one urgent thrust. This was not making love, this was a primal fuck, pounding me for all he and I were worth – and I was loving it. The rhythmic pommeling, the bounce of the butt plug, and to-and-fro traction of my clipped and weighted nipples against the fabric, the constraint of my forearms which were cocooned against my arms and squeezing by breasts together – all these contributed to my arousal gone amuck. I began to shriek with each thrust – not in pain but in pleasure and he grunted out “Give it to me Sin. Cum for me baby.” And with that, all the emotions of the afternoon were released when I detonated around him. My vagina involuntarily contracted hard around his cock and I could see and feel him visibly stiffen until he let out a howl and exploded inside me, pumping me full of his hot, sticky cum. He continued to pump several more times until his sweaty body collapsed on me and the amazingly sturdy chair.

After a pause, he lifted himself by his arms, looked me in the eyes and said, matter-of-factly “Glad I found you.” With that, we both burst out laughing, in part because of the absurdity of the statement, in part because of the release of our pent-up fears. After a few minutes, he got to his feet, pulled up his pants and underwear, picked up something from the ground and said “I’ll be right back. Don’t go anywhere.” This was particularly funny as he normally says this when I am inescapably bound and incapable of going anywhere. This time, however, I was mobile, even though and I really could ‘go anywhere’, so I really did have to exercise free-will to stay put.

Before he left, however, I told him “Steve – I hate to break the mood, but I have to pee.”

He paused for a moment, stroking his chin, then said, “I’ve got an idea. Hold it for another couple of minutes.”

He disappeared into the house and reemerged with a bedpan (no less!) and some toilet paper.

“Lift your hips,” he ordered.

After giving him a scowl, I complied and settled my crotch on the too cold pan.

“Let it go,” he commanded.

“You’re so bossy,” I complained but I then complied, feeling a satisfying warm stream of urine drain into the pan.

“All done!” I exclaimed brightly. With that, he reached down with the toilet paper and wiped me dry.

“How humiliating!” I thought.

Tugging on the pan I lifted my hips and he disappeared into the house once again.

He reemerged from the house in a few minutes and knelt before me, first stroking my pussy lips and gently massaging my clit in circular motions before sliding two fingers into my wet pussy (facilitated by a combination of his and my old juices and my new ones from his ministrations). He removed his fingers, pushed something else into me, then I felt the labia jewelry clamp onto my clit and lips. I ‘umphed’ at the unexpected pinch which soon subsided, then I felt him doing some manipulations and heard the click of the lock once again. My pussy was safe from further intrusions – for now.

He then grabbed me by the shoulders and stood me up before him. I was now able to lower my arms and hands to my sides. He took my left wrist cuff and I felt him wrap a zip tie above my right elbow which he then secured to the cuff with another tie. He repeated the same process with my right wrist cuff and left lower arm, putting me into a restrictive poor-man’s box-tie. He then pulled the ‘skirt’ down to my ankles and sat me down in the chair, before securing the left hem of the skirt to my left ankle cuff, and the right hem to my right cuff, which had been my original plan all along.

“Let’s finish off what you started,” he said with a wicked smile. “Open wide” as he brought the ring gag to my mouth. I complied, opening wide and he fitted it snugly behind my teeth, and then secured the strap with a small lock behind my neck. He pulled my hood over my head to complete the picture, although my arms were much more restrictively bound than I had planned or would have been able to do on my own. This also served to tighten the tube around my chest, pressing even harder on my still clamped nipples, forcing another moan out of my gagged mouth. Somehow, the lock hanging from the nipple chain had fallen who knows where in all this commotion and I was not complaining at this point. Apparently, he decided not to put the foam ball in my mouth either by intent or as an oversight. Again, I was not complaining.

“Let’s get you to your feet and back in the house,” he ordered, and he once again helped me to stand. I was not prepared for how tight the tube became when stretched by my ankle cuffs. I felt like I was encased in one of those Chinese finger traps, although this was more of a Chinese body trap. He helped me shuffle on my high heels toward the house door when I soon encountered my first obstacle – the step between the garage floor and the landing. No matter what I tried, I couldn’t get my foot high enough to clear the step, even with Steve steadying me to keep me from toppling over. After several attempts, it became clear to me that this was futile. It also occurred to me that had I been successful with my original plan to secure the skirt to the ankles cuffs without trapping my wrist cuff, I still would have been trapped in the garage!

“Sinthia, we have a problem,” Steve chortled. “Stay put,” he said as he strode over to the door, punched in the combination, and opened it, securing a bungee cord to it that we use to keep it open when bringing in groceries and the like. Upon returning, he bent over and then heaved me over his shoulder so that I was, once again, folded at the waist, but this time head dangling behind his back, being unable to look anywhere but at the back of his shirt due to the collar.

“Put on a little weight lately?” he quipped, giving me a sharp slap on the ass and prompting an indignant “Mmmmph!” from me.

I expected him to take me to the foyer and lay me down as his present as was my original plan, but he had other ideas. Instead, he headed to the dimly lit bedroom and laid me down on the king-size bed, also apparently as his present. I watched him disrobe, and gazed at his sculpted pecs and abs, accentuated by the shadows from the single lightbulb illuminating him. He then covered us both with the duvet as he cuddled up to me and started to kiss and make out with his helpless elf. I think it was only then, after groping my breasts for several minutes that he realized that I had on the nipple clamps. This, however, did not dissuade him from giving a great deal of attention to my tender nipples and breasts, kneading and squeezing them and getting me all hot and bothered (again).

He then slid me down the bed and climbed over me in something of a 69 position. I saw him reach down with his hand and lubricate his shaft, probably with a glob of his saliva, then he nestled his head in my crotch (not that he could get to my pussy) and wrapped his arms around my buns. Not being blindfolded, I had an up-close view of his magnificent, rigid cock with its bulging veins, velvety head and drop of pre-cum at the tip. He gradually but deliberately lowered himself and he slid right through the ring (right size this time!) and began to slowly thrust in and out of my gaping mouth.

I knew what was expected of me at this point which was to be his fuck toy, cum bucket, sex slave, Christmas present – whatever term you prefer as I was basically inanimate – my mouth held open by the ring gag, by head immobilized by the posture collar, and the rest of my body trussed up and encased in an unyielding felt tube. Just then I felt the vibe spring to life in my pussy, stimulating my clit and anal plug through the jewelry. This time, it was not on low, but at one of the higher settings and I felt that familiar warmth and tension start to build below.

With my three holes filled – my mouth filled with a pumping cock, my pussy with a very active vibrator and a steel plug being oscillated in my ass - I became resigned (happily) to the fact that for me, it was going to be an oh so ‘holey’ night.


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