Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Waiting For The Colonel

by icebherghblue

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© Copyright 2002 - icebherghblue - Used by permission

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Waiting For The Colonel

The fantasy had been playing hard in my head for several days.  Sometimes it became so real I could almost reach out and touch it.  The Gestapo had recently become suspicious of my activities so I was picked up and taken to headquarters for questioning.  The Colonel in charge is delighted to see a woman and decides to conduct the interrogation personally.  Before he can begin however, he is summoned to an emergency meeting.  He orders me taken to his private interrogation room and held there until his return.

Two guards immediately leap to do his bidding and I was dragged kicking and screaming to a squalid little cell in a hidden sub-basement where I was quickly stripped down to my garter belt and stockings, muzzled into silence and tightly bound to an old wooden sawhorse.

The guards decided that I should be softened up a bit before my interrogation and to that end bare wire was wrapped around my thighs and connected to an old crank type field telephone.  The two guards took turns pumping electricity into my thighs and pumping their cocks into my mouth waiting the officer's return.

I love being tied up, for me there is no more wonderful feeling in the world than that of being completely helpless.  I was becoming so preoccupied with the interrogation fantasy it was starting to have an adverse affect on me at work so with the week-end approaching fast I decided it was finally time to do something about it.

I wanted to add as much reality to this self bondage session as I could.  In my little fantasy the Gestapo used a hand crank field phone to torture me with electricity.  I didn't have anything like that to use during my self bondage session, but I did have a small Tens unit connected to a timer which I could use to do almost the same thing.

I called it the gadget and the diabolical little apparatus produced lightning bolts once a minute guaranteed to keep me squirming. A few nights earlier I spent several hours experimenting with it, adjusting the intensity level until it was as strong as I thought I could stand. Then I turned it up one more level without testing it just to give myself more of a feeling that the guards, not I, was in control of the intensity level.

I added a little something the Gestapo would never have allowed, a butterfly vibrator.  Like the gadget it too was connected to a timer and I experimented with it as well to determine just how long I could leave it running without pushing myself over the edge into orgasm.  Controlled by the timer the little butterfly vibrator would purr to life every few minutes, and work me just long enough to get me really wound up, but stop short of allowing me to finish too soon into my session. I then cut the running time by one third so that I would have to be really cranked and work hard for the reward of orgasm.

The timers as well as the Tens unit were now fastened to the "control panel" which was really nothing more than a piece of plywood nailed as brace between the two back legs of the sawhorse I planned to use for my session.

I spent the afternoon primping and fussing as if I was a teen-age schoolgirl preparing for her first real date. I wanted everything to be absolutely perfect.  I even did my hair in an early 1940's style in keeping with the era of my scene. 

Dressing was not a problem, a pair of black silk stocking with the seams adjusted just so, a matching black garter belt, and of course my best and highest heels.

I double-checked every window and door to make sure they were locked, and then activated the security alarm.  Should someone try to break in, or God forbid the place catch on fire while I was tied up, the alarm people would handle the situation for me.  It was a measure of safety that I appreciated greatly.

I opened the door to the cellar, turned on the meager lighting and stepped down to the top stair.  Pulling the heavy door closed behind me, I locked it from my side and threw the two dead bolts.

The cellar was as close to the Gestapo's underground dungeon as I could get, and it really wasn't all that far removed.  The bare concrete block walls and concrete floor were dirty with the accumulated grime of some sixty odd years of service.  There were no windows, no sound from the outside world came in, and my heavily muffled screams for help could certainly not be heard beyond the walls of my cell. I had to share my cell with the oil furnace, but it kept my dungeon warm enough to be naked for hours and not get cold.

I turned and looked down in my soon to be dungeon.  The sawhorse was waiting, straps open and ready, in anticipation of tying me down.  It was ominous, almost sinister and a shiver ran through me as I looked at it.  I could almost feel the two Gestapo guards, one on either side of me, hustling me down the stairs.

Everything that I needed for my interrogation session with the Gestapo was ready and waiting for me.

I walked down the rickety old wooden stairs carefully and crossed the concrete floor to the sawhorse.  I took the power cord that supplied electricity to the two timers, stood on a step stool and plugged it into an overhead outlet.  This outlet was turned on and off by a switch which I quickly tested to make sure the timers would work, then turned it back off.

Inside of a small deep freeze my ice pipe and rope hoist with an ice knot waited patiently for me.  These two items were the keys to my helpless bondage.

A rusted, ancient pulley hung from a heavy rafter in the far corner of my soon to be prison.  Standing on a step stool I threaded the end of the rope hoist with the ice knot over the pulley and pulled the frozen lump tight against the metal wheel.  I then tied that end of the rope to the chain frozen in my ice pipe and let it dangle, supported for the time being by the ice knot. I hooked a heavy weight to the bottom of the ice pipe to ensure there would be enough weight to stretch my arms very straight behind my back and remove every millimeter of slack possible from the rope hoist.

I tied a piece of string to the electrical switch that I had just plugged the control panel into, stretched the string tight and tied it to the ice pipe.  When the ice knot melted allowing the ice pipe to drop and pull my arms tight, the string would flip the switch and turn on the timers for the Tens and butterfly vibrator.  Next I took the electrical cord for the control panel and tied it to the ice pipe leaving plenty of slack between it and the outlet.  When the ice pipe finally melted and dropped to the floor, it would jerk the power cord from the outlet and turn off the timers.

A carabineer was tied to the other end of the rope hoist and I pulled that end over to the sawhorse and fastened it loosely so I could reach it with my arms behind my back.

Opening my mouth wide I inserted a rather large penis gag, wrapped the attached harness about my head and under my chin snugly, and then cinched the rig down tightly.

Next I slid into the elastic bands that held my butterfly in place, adjusted its positioning and plugged the wires into the timer on the control panel.

I picked up a roll of white medical tape, a pair of scissors and cut several strips of tape, which I tacked to the horse.  With those ready I carefully peeled the clear plastic backing off one of the electrode pairs, smeared a thin coat of KY jelly on the surface, and pressed it against the back of my thigh just above the top of my stocking.   Holding it in place with one hand I used my free hand to fasten the rubber like squares using the short pieces of tape I cut only seconds earlier.

Retrieving the roll of tape, I wrapped it around my thigh tightly several times to hold the slippery plastic device snugly against my skin.  Picking up the other electrode I repeated the process on my other thigh, then doubled checked my handiwork to ensure the electrodes would remain firmly attached. I took the wires that dangled from my electrified garters and plugged them into the gadget.

I straddled the back posts of the old sawhorse, which spread my legs wide.  A series of four leather straps bolted to each wooden upright were open and eager for their next victim.  It was a bit of a strain to reach the ankle straps, but I finally managed to pull them across my ankles, thread them into the waiting buckles, and cinch them tightly. Another strap at mid calf, one right above my knee, and the last just below my bottom were all snugly cinched down locking my legs to the horse’s leg.

What I used to bind my wrists were more like carpal tunnel braces than anything that resembled handcuffs, but they allowed tremendous pressure to be put on my wrists for long periods of time without cutting off the blood flow to my fingers. The Gestapo would never have permitted such luxury, but I considered it a concession to reality.  I slid them on and cinched up the adjustment straps until they were nice and snug.

Fastened to the underside of the crossbeam between the sawhorse legs three black nylon tie down straps hung limp and ready to be put to work.   I bent over at the waist and lay lengthwise along the sawhorse stretcher.  Gathering the ends of the three straps in my right hand, I passed them behind my back into my left hand, then pulled them back down under the horse. One at a time I threaded them into waiting buckles and drew them tight.  One across the small of my back, one about the middle of my back and the last just below my shoulder blades cinched my torso securely to the horse.

Now came the trickiest part of all.  I was still able to free myself from my bonds, but when I finished the next task I would be helpless, stuck on the horse until the ice pipe melted enough to release me.  I took one last long look around to make double sure everything was ready to go, then put my arms behind my back.

After searching blindly for several long seconds I finally managed to grab the rope hoist and held the carabiner in my left hand.  By the time I succeeded in clipping the steel loop from the right cuff into the carabiner I was starting to sweat from the efforts of working behind my back.

I transferred the carabiner to my right hand and with surprising ease clipped the loop on the left wrist into the oblong metal ring.  I breathed a sigh of relief and tried to relax.  It was still possible for me to escape, but the window was almost closed now.  All I had to do was wait for the ice knot to melt releasing the ice weight jerking my arms up and back.

With my arms stretched out and wrenched up it would be impossible for me to release the carabiner and get free, I would be forced to wait until ice bucket melted enough to release the chain.

The wait for the ice knot to melt was interminable. Had I been smart I would have taken up the slack in my hands and played it out slowly when the ice knot let go, but I didn't think of that until it was too late. I tried to crank my head back to check its progress when I heard the rusty pulley squeak.  An instant later the ice knot gave way and gravity took control of the ice pipe.

The rope raced through the rope hoist with a whine.  As it fell it removed the slack from the rope tied to my wrists and when that was gone jerked my arms out straight and wrenched them skywards with a force that threatened to crank my arms from their sockets.  I screamed at the sudden pain.  I strained against the hoist trying to pull a bit of slack into the line, but the rope hoist refused to give any back.

The brand new shiny black pads taped neatly and tightly to the backs of my bare thighs, boiled to life with a blazing electric charge that slammed into my bare flesh with far more force than I anticipated. Suddenly my pretend dungeon was filled with my very real, but very muffled screams of pain.

I wrenched hard against my tight restraints, writhing and squirming frantically but I couldn't escape the pain dancing on my thighs!  I was helpless, completely and utterly helpless and it was WONDERFUL!!

I found it almost possible to believe that one tiny nine volt battery could generate such a tremendous wallop, but the proof was in the charged filaments sizzling my thighs.

I wanted a taste of realism and boy was I getting it!  I worked desperately to free my wrist cuffs from the caribiner and get myself out, but escape really was impossible!  I really was completely helpless and I loved it!

The gadget whacked me again and as I squirmed helplessly I could almost see the guards laughing and jeering while I burned with humiliation.  My sexual excitement began to build wildly.

The little butterfly vibrator purred to life for a very few minutes, working me just long enough to get my blood roiling, but stopped before I could finish leaving me high and dry and moaning in abject frustration.  Even as the butterfly teased me, the ever-present gadget continued to whack away driving almost mad with desire.

Over the next two hours the gadget whacked away painfully at my thighs while the butterfly teased me until every cell in my body was quivering with desperate need.  I was beginning to think the ice pipe would release me before the humming little butterfly would ever run long enough to let me finish.

Then it happened.  The gadget and the butterfly hit me at the same instant.  Somewhere buried deep inside of my core, a long denied tiny little ember smoldered to life, burning hotter and hotter until I was consumed with a scalding white heat. 

My hips pumped up and down frantically on the butterfly, every muscle in my body was cranked as tight as it could be.  I bit down hard on the gag in my mouth moaning and begging, poised on the brink of orgasm for what seemed an eternity.

From out of the blue the gadget came to life again slapping the backs of my thighs hard with a powerful jolt of electricity.  I screamed in unexpected pain and it finally sent me over the edge.

A massive, almost overwhelming shudder ripped through my fettered body, so powerful I thought I would be torn from my binding and hurled across the room.   I closed my eyes and reality melted away.  I was no longer self-bound in my own basement; I was in the hands of the Gestapo deep beneath their headquarters.

As my orgasm grew in intensity the Gestapo guards appeared, laughing and jeering at me, further deepening the power of my orgasm.

To my horror the rubber penis gag in my mouth evaporated, replaced by one of iron hard flesh.  Gripping my head tightly with both hands, a Gestapo guard bobbed my head up and down, pumping my mouth with his erection, and another powerful orgasm tore through me even before the power of the first began to wane.

Suddenly the Colonel was there as well, razor strap in hand and as the gadget whacked hard at the backs of my thighs again, he was whipping me hard, demanding answers and I was launched into another even more powerful orgasm.

The physical reality of being helplessly bound and electrically tortured tightly coupled with the powerful mental images of the three Gestapo agents laboring over my naked body drove me to orgasm after orgasm until I lay limp and exhausted in my restraints.

I became aware of my surroundings slowly as if waking from a deep sleep.  I found myself back in my own basement, not in the cell under Gestapo headquarters.  The three Gestapo agents had receded back into the inner reaches of my imagination, waiting for their next chance to get their hands on me.  I was still helplessly bound, but every square inch of my flesh quivered with the afterglow of my time spent at the hands of the Gestapo.  The butterfly was quiet, but the gadget still whacked away relentlessly at my thighs.  I wondered vaguely how much longer I would be subjected to this torture of my own design.

I didn't have to wait very long for the answer.  The ice pipe gave way and crashed to the floor with a thud releasing the chain.  The tremendous pressure in my shoulders was released as my arms fell.  As the pipe fell it yanked the power cord from the outlet stopping the timers for the gadget and the butterfly vibrator.  I was stiff, sore, and numb, but I managed to undo the carabiner holding my wrists behind my back.  As I slowly and almost painfully worked my way out of my restraints I wondered how big the ice pipe would have to be to double my stay with the Gestapo.


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