Where The Sun Don’t Shine

I picked up an old wooden police night stick at a yard sale.  I know it is an older model simply because it is made of hardwood (new police nightsticks are made of fiberglass).  It is a little more than 4 centimeters in diameter and when I got it home I sawed it off to about 25 centimeters long.  I sanded down the rough edges and shined up the beautiful black color, and immediately the nightstick and I became very good friends.

I’m an attorney, a blond girl in my late 20s, and single by choice.  I am very career oriented.  I might add that I am a very junior attorney at a fairly large law firm, and contrary to popular belief, not all attorneys are rich.  There are college loans to pay, etc.  But I like my job and I work hard at it, often putting in extra hours at the office. I was able to purchase a small starter home in the suburbs.  It is not large but it does have a pool and a private back yard, and this is where my self-bondage adventures frequently take place.  I live in a southern state, and I am sort of a sun worshipper, and I like to have a nice tan as much of the year as possible.

Being an attorney (and specializing in civil law), I am constantly butting heads with male attorneys.  I may not be model material, but I have learned that if I dress well and  tastefully show some tanned cleavage and have my skirts tailored a tad shorter than normal and show some tanned legs, it gives me a distinct advantage when dealing with male attorneys.  And I don’t feel bad about that at all.  And I am aggressive in my negotiations, and I have sometimes heard opposing attorneys whisper words like “bitch” or “ball-buster”.  I don’t take offense – in fact I take it as a compliment. But it also means that I have trouble maintaining a personal relationship with the opposite sex.  Which might explain my obsession with self-bondage as a way to release my sexual urges and also a way to force myself to sit still for a while on weekends.

I own a pair of very tight denim shorts.  They would make Daisy Duke proud.  I have found that I can thread a light chain tight through the belt loops and padlock it in front or in back and the denim shorts are as good as a chastity belt – they won’t come off without the key. I also found that I can force my new 25 centimeter long police night stick into my vagina, drag my denim shorts up over my hips to my waist, and lock the chain tightly through the belt loops, and – presto – I am enjoying great sensations simply by walking around.  If I pull on a skirt and blouse over this combination and leave the key home, I can walk through the mall and nobody knows why I have such a great smile on my face (but I do have to make it home to use the bathroom).

Saturday came, and I had put in a busy week at the office.  So I was looking forward to some self-bondage and some relaxation, and I had a plan that I had been thinking about all week.  Friday night before bed I put the strategic twin padlock keys into two insulated coffee mugs with the lids on, filled them with water, and put them in the freezer.  I had practiced taking the lids off with my hands tied, and I knew it was doable.  I wanted to use insulated cups with lids because I knew I would be out in the sun.

On Saturday morning I ate a light breakfast and took a shower.  Shaved my legs and my underarms and my crotch and did the things most girls do about once a week.  The sun was shining brightly on my pool deck, and I had already inflated my air mattress.  I slathered on sun tanning lotion – it feels sensuous and sexy and cool and slippery.  I empty my bladder for the last time and then I gather my bondage stuff and get to work.

First step – lube up the police night stick and slide it up into my wet pussy.  A few inches protrude.  It feels so good that I almost give in right there.  But I move along and slide the denim shorts up and over my hips and into place, and thread the chain through the belt loops and pull it snug and lock it in front with a small padlock.  I look down at the bulge in the front of my shorts and giggle – I look like a guy with a hard-on.

Next I buckle on my locking leather ankle cuffs.  They are connected by about 30 centimeters of chain, and are locked in place by a padlock on each ankle cuff.  I leave the keys on the floor in the farthest bedroom of the house, as a backup safety measure. Then I slide a ball gag into my mouth and buckle the strap tightly behind my head.  I’m not that fond of gags but it definitely adds something to the self-bondage experience to be only able to grunt rather than speak.  The gag doesn’t need to be locked on because I won’t be able to reach it anyway. Now I take my frozen coffee mugs from the freezer and place them one on each side of the air mattress out on the pool deck, along with two small padlocks and a larger padlock.

Last check for safety.  The front door is locked.  The coffee pot is off.  I have left an extra set of keys on the floor in the farthest bedroom in the house, although crawling to them across the rough pool deck while tied will be difficult.  I have even left a knife and a pair of paramedic scissors on the floor in the house as a possible safety backup escape measure, although I don’t look forward to cutting my nice leather cuffs.

Out on the pool deck, the sun is bright.  I kneel on my air mattress and make a last check on things.  Lying on my tummy on the air mattress, I lock a leather wrist cuff on one wrist, place my hands behind me, and then lock the other leather cuff on the other wrist.  They are connected by just one link of chain, and so I have to squirm to get everything locked.  I am starting to break out in a sweat, and I take a minute to catch my breath.  I am protected from the prying eyes of neighbors by the thick hedge that surrounds my pool and deck, except for a gate at the rear.

So far I am not trapped.  I have not passed the point of no return.  I could still get up and shuffle into the house and find the keys on the floor in the back bedroom. Taking a deep breath, I take the last padlock, and while lying on my tummy, I draw my heels up against my backside and find the chain connecting the ankle cuffs.  Squirming around a little, I use the final padlock to lock the chain connecting my wrist cuffs to the chain connecting my ankle cuffs.

When that padlock clicks, I know I am now locked up.  My body is drawn into a fairly strict hogtie, and my wrists nearly touch my ankles.  As always when I am in a new self-bondage escapade, I test my limits and try to escape, and I have to admit this was a good job of chaining myself up.  I am truly locked and nearly naked and helpless until the sun melts the ice in one of the insulated coffee cups adjacent to my hips, allowing me to retrieve the strategic key to that last padlock.

And the feeling is great!  I love being tied hand and foot.  When I was a kid playing “Cowboys and Indians” I was always the person who got tied to a tree while being groped by the boys.  I squirm and roll and bask in the sunshine and luxuriate in sexual dreams and fantasize about rape and captivity and generally act like a bitch in heat.  I roll my bare breasts on the air mattress and admire my erect nipples and it feels great. And that sawed-off police night stick that is jammed into my crotch feels great!  It is held in place by the denim shorts, which are locked on by the waist chain.  The night stick sticks out a few inches, just like a guy with a hard-on.  As probably everybody knows, if you tie a guy down on his stomach he will soon reach orgasm, but a girl on her stomach can’t do that.  But the night stick protruding from my pussy changes everything, and I lay on my tummy and hump it with gusto, and I feel like I want to marry it or something.

And the first orgasm builds slowly but surely, and comes in waves of feeling that figuratively blow my head off, and makes me soar to the moon and see stars, and makes the world spin, and when I finally come down I am out of breath and hoarse and dizzy.  If you have never experienced an orgasm while you are bound hand and foot you don’t know what you are missing. After a few minutes sanity returns.  I am hot and sticky and sticking to the air mattress.  There is a wet spot in the front of my denim shorts.  I roll over to get some sun on my breasts and stomach (which is moderately uncomfortable because my cuffed hands are now under my ass). And after a little while I get horny again and roll over on my stomach and hump the night stick some more.  All this thrashing around is making me sweat and is crumpling up the air mattress but I want another orgasm, and now!

And so I lay there in sub space humping the air mattress with the nightstick turned dildo, while getting tanned and feeling fine.  My skin is a slippery mixture of sweat and sun tan lotion, and I occasionally check the keys frozen in the insulated coffee mugs, but release is not within my grasp yet.

And I hear the gate click!  My pool area is surrounded by a hedge with just a gap for a gate, but I suddenly realize I have company.  It is the pool guy who comes by weekly (usually on Wednesday) to clean the pool!  Suddenly I remember a note he stuck in the door last week about making a change in his schedule to accommodate classes he is taking at college.  Shit – I forgot all about it. And so I try to squirm deeper into the air mattress in hopes he won’t notice me.  Fat chance – a college age male not notice a nearly naked blond tied hand and foot and gagged!

There is surprise in his eyes as he walks up to me, putting down his pool cleaning gear.  I look at him with what I hope is a neutral expression as he takes in my situation – complete with frozen mugs and all.

“Are you all right?” he asks.  I nod and mmmph as much as the gag will let me and try to appear as if being locked in a hog-tie is a normal Saturday event (actually, it is).

“You did this to yourself, didn’t you?” he says in some wonder as he looks over my leather cuffs and chained denim shorts (I am lying on my stomach, so the night stick in my crotch is probably not visible – yet).

“Do you want me to release you?” he says (I notice he is blushing).

I grunt something vague and he walks around me – and then bends down and picks up the two insulated coffee mugs containing the keys and snaps off the tops and looks inside at my half-frozen keys.  Smirking, he puts the tops back on and places them in the shade out of reach. Since at that moment I am lying on my stomach, my heels and my denim-clad hips are pointing up at him.  He strokes the bare bottoms of my feet, and since I am ticklish, I squirm and twitch and try to avoid his reach (I can’t).

Taking some sun-tan lotion, he bends over me and rubs my back and my shoulder blades.  It feels great, and I almost purr like a kitten.  Rolling me over, he kneels next to me and rubs more sun-tan lotion on my bare breasts and stomach.  It feels really great, and I am unable to prevent moaning like a slut.  Sliding a sweaty hand into my crotch, he finds the protruding end of the night stick and thrusts it into my vagina with a rocking motion.  I can’t take any more, and I come in his arms, panting and moaning and mewling and groaning as much as the gag will let me.  The orgasm is great, and his embrace is great, and at that moment I don’t care if I am near naked and completely helpless and he is a pool guy who has intruded on my private moments – it feels good.

After a few minutes sanity returns and I come back to reality.  Once again there is a wet spot on the front of my denim shorts.  Suntan lotion is smeared everywhere.  My captor/master/hero/pool guy chuckles about how I must have enjoyed myself, and steps away for a moment.  I can see him bending over and sliding his shorts and tee-shirt off.  Jesus – his dick is as thick as a beer bottle when he turns back to face me!

Kneeling next to me (I am on my back at this moment), he removes my gag and  presents his dick to me and I suck it with vigor.  It is big, and tastes like sweat mixed with pre-cum and a little sun-tan lotion, and my lips and cheeks are distended trying to accommodate it.  With my wrists and ankles chained I don’t have much choice in the matter, but I am also enjoying our little tryst and so I take as much of his dick in my mouth as possible – until my nose is buried in his pubic hair and he is groaning and arching his back and then he comes in my mouth and his semen shoots down my throat and I can hardly breathe and he holds my head tightly and I swallow and he is also playing with my boobs and my crotch and it feels good and I orgasm again too.

After a few minutes we come back to earth and his dick shrivels up and I can breathe again.  He flops back in the sun on the pool deck and we both are exhausted and feel like shit.  I can talk now but I choose to remain quiet.  Finally, standing up and pulling on his clothes again, he places the nearly-melted insulated coffee mugs containing the keys back within my reach.  Gathering up his pool-cleaning stuff, he lets himself out the gate and disappears from my view.  I hear his car door slam and then I hear the engine start and drive away.  I guess the pool will have to get cleaned some other time.

Feeling damp and clammy and sweaty and stiff and exhausted, I lay there for a few more minutes thinking about what just happened.  I am disturbed from my reverie by the sound of water sloshing around in my coffee mugs, which means they have melted and the keys are now within my grasp.  With trembling fingers I release my chains and gather up my stuff and head in to the shower.

I already know that I will be chained in the same position next Saturday – when the pool guy comes again!

14.09.08