When Things go Wrong

Michelle 5: When Things go Wrong

After one experience of what can happen if you leave yourself vulnerable to strangers when practicing my passionate love of self-bondage, I agreed with my house-mate Emma that she would come in to make sure I was safe whenever I had a yellow ‘post-it’ on the outside of my door, with a time written on it and when that time had passed.

Safe in this knowledge, I continued my experiments with serious self-bondage, always planning my escape, but knowing that I could still get free if that failed.  Perhaps that made me a bit over-confident, because finally I did get things wrong again.

I had read about devices which fitted to doors so that you could be tied spread-eagled to the door.  I thought I could manage a simple version of this using my ropes and a few bits of hosepipe.  It proved remarkably easy.  I threaded a rope through the hose and tied it off.  When the rope was hung over the top of the door to my shower room, with the hose on the other side, I could close the door and the rope was firmly fixed in position.  I found that I could use two of these, with slip knots for my wrists, to fix myself to the door.  I could free myself by using my backside to press down on the door handle enough for the catch to release and the door would swing outwards, releasing my hands.

That was a start, but I needed to think about how to tie my legs.  Tying my ankles and knees made it a bit harder to escape, but the position I was held in did not really meet one of my main requirements – I needed to feel totally exposed and vulnerable. If I tied my ankles so that my legs were apart, I wouldn’t be able to move my backside enough to reach the door handle.  Finally I came up with a solution.

I used two more pieces of hose, but this time the ropes from the hose were tied to small steel rings right at the top of the door.  Then I made loops in the ends of two longer ropes. I fed these loops through the rings and locked them in position with two metal meat skewers.  If I pulled out the skewers, the loops were released, and the ropes fell to the ground.

I stripped naked and fitted my usual ball-gag and ear plugs.  I put my rubber hood where I would be able to reach it.  Then I set up my final device – a shooting stick leaning against the door.  As it only has one leg, I could easily knock it away once it had served its purpose.  I sat carefully on the shooting-stick seat, and tied one of the long ropes round my leg just above my knee, balancing carefully as I raised my knee until my thigh was horizontal.  The other leg was treated in the same way, although I had to be very careful not to lose my balance.

I was still sitting on the shooting stick although now some of my weight was being taken by the ropes round my knees.  Then I carefully reached over and got hold of my rubber hood.  With this on I was blind as well as deaf and gagged.  I could breathe easily through the two holes near my nostrils.  Everything was ready.  I reached up and felt the two slip knots for my wrists, and eased them over my hands, adjusting them so that the rope went upwards from the front of my wrists, stopping the loops round my wrists from cutting off my blood flow to my hands.

Now was the moment of commitment.  I pulled my arms against the knots, and I was held.  Then I took my weight on my hands, pulling my backside up off the shooting stick.  I gave a brief wiggle, and the shooting stick fell sideways, leaving me suspended from the door.

I lowered myself down, until more and more of my weight was taken by the ropes round my knees.  My legs were forced apart, and my knees were drawn up towards my chest.

Hanging there, I began to descend into my fantasies.  A man was going to come in and find me.  I would be at his mercy.  What would he do to me?  It wasn’t long before I was well turned on but, of course, I couldn’t move to reach myself and I soon regretted not fitting my Joni’s Butterfly to help me.  Finally I decided that the time had come to release myself.

Disaster!  I could reach the meat skewers, but they were the wrong way round.  I could reach the pointed ends, but I needed to get hold of the handles to pull them out and, try as I might, I could not pull myself up enough to reach them.  I was well and truly trapped.

Exhausted by my struggles to lift myself high enough to reach the skewers, I sank back into my original position, and resigned myself to waiting until Emma came in and released me.  That was going to be over an hour later.

My arms were aching and my lower legs were starting to lose any feeling as the blood supply was constricted at my knees.

Suddenly, without any warning, I felt something cold being pressed into my exposed rear passage. I was unable to do more than squeal as a lubricated butt plug was pushed into me.  I realised that Emma had found me, but that she didn’t intend to release me without making me pay for my mistake.  The plug started to vibrate and, despite the aches in my limbs, it wasn’t long before I started to respond.  Emma started playing with my nipples then, and very soon they were stiffening.   For the first time ever, I felt the pain of nipple clamps being applied.  As the initial spasm died away, I realised that these clamps too were vibrating.

But, of course, that wasn’t enough for Emma.  She immediately set about me with another vibrator.  She knew just how to get to me.  She was almost playing tunes with my body, and it was only a very short time before my whole body tensed and shook as I came to a climax.  Even then, she didn’t stop, and it seemed an ecstatic eternity of orgasms before she decided that I could finally be released.  By then, I was so exhausted that she had to help me across to my bed, where I collapsed in a pile and almost immediately fell asleep.

In the morning my body was so stiff that I knew I would take great care not to have to be rescued by Emma again.  Mind, it had been an incredible experience!

13.11.07