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Author's Note: Comments and feedback are always welcome. I do read them and find your words very inspiring. *This is the first story I've submitted here that is based on an actual experience.*
When you're a self bondage addict and haven't taken the time for a good fix in a while, you tend to get carried away.
First, the outfit. I wanted stimulation this time, so my latex double dildo panties went on first. Well lubed they're fun just to squirm into. I don't orgasm easily, so, while they felt good, I wasn't ready to come yet.
After a liberal dousing of myself with Pur I slid into my backzip catsuit. I'm sure watching me zip it would be amusing, but I've learned a trick or two over the years. It has attached feet and gloves and takes a long time to get into right, but then that's half the pleasure of latex.
To keep that on during my playtime I strapped my leather body harness over it. It has straps that cross over my shoulders and a pair that go above and below my breasts, all meeting at a ring in front and back. From there a strap passes between my legs to buckle in back. One more of the wide leather belts wraps around my waist. It doesn't have locking buckles, but it's fairly simple to pass a small lock through the holes in the belts and around the buckles. If I leave the straps loose enough I can work my arms under them and use cuffs in back to make it quite the leather prison, but that wasn't the plan this time. This time they were all pulled tight and locked that way.
One might think that after years of self bondage I would remember to put on my boots before locking anything between my legs. Maybe there's some subconscious part of me that just knows how it feels to bend over and have things pushed in tight while I have to zip my boots. Not just any boots either. These are brand new, expensive black leather calf-hugging four inch heels that zip up the outside. Before I wore them even once I took them to a shoe repair shop and had metal rings attached at the top of the zipper. I don't know if the man knew why I wanted them there, but he did the work for me anyhow. With a lock through the ring and the zipper, they aren't going to come off.
After filling my mouth with a pair of silk panties I used a roll of black vinyl tape to keep them packed in. Over that I pulled on a latex hood. This one covers my mouth but leaves my eyes and nose exposed. Of course it has to be kept in place, so a leather collar got locked on too. I think I could probably tug the hood off anyhow, but only if I have the use of my fingers.
I prepared for this little adventure late last night. Down in the basement is an eye bolt screwed into a beam. Hanging from it by a chain were my leather wrist cuffs. I had already locked them together with one lock, then to the chain with another. They use another small lock on the buckle to keep me secure. On my way down I took a small plastic bowl from the freezer. Frozen in the bowl was the first of the keys I'd need to get free. I hadn't tested to see how long the ice would take to melt. I hung the key by the string that was tied to it from the same eye bolt. The plastic bowl would slip off as soon as the ice began to melt.
Before I used the cuffs I bound my knees, thighs and ankles tightly with rope. By now I was at the shaky excited stage and knew I wasn't going to turn back. The last step was to text message my sister and let her know what I was up to and when to expect another text. I figured about six hours would be right. I didn't call her because she'd still be in bed. It was still very early, probably a bit after 6 am.
That last click of the lock sends waves of excitement and fear through me. There's nothing quite the same. My wrists were raised behind my back by the short chain. My booted and hobbled feet wobbled and shook. Sometimes I feel like I'm terribly cruel to myself, sometimes I'd beg for a decent vibrator lodged between my thighs.
Time passes so slow when the bondage begins to hurt. My arms spasmed and shook before the ice melted enough to get to the key. It must have been more than a couple of hours. Once I could get the key in the lock I freed myself from the chain and wobbled to an old chair nearby. I had more in store though. That key only unlocked that one lock. To get free I had two sets of stairs to climb yet, and then back down them.
I kicked and struggled with the ropes for awhile, hoping to loosen them. I've been tying myself up for too long though, there wasn't a bit of slack. Hop, shuffle, hop and repeat. Once to the stairs I turned and sat on them. I was out of breath already, having only my nose to breathe through. Going up stairs isn't too awful, you just sit and push your butt up with your legs, then pull your legs up and do it again. One flight down, across the kitchen and living room, up another flight, this one with a landing halfway up. The key to the cuffs was right where I'd left it on my desk. Of course, it was locked in a canvas money bag. The key to that lock was itself locked to a post back down in the basement. After a rest on the bed in the spare room across the hall I gathered my bag and got ready for the trip back down.
If going up stairs while hobbled isn't too bad, going down them with plugs in you is sheer torture. Every thump from every step plunges the rubber invaders deep into each.. uhhm, location. I was sweating a river by the time I got to the landing, and fighting to control my breathing. After a few more steps I had lost control of things and I came hard and fast. This is the ultimate in predicament bondage games. I am stuck, helpless, the only hope for escape is to force orgasm after orgasm on myself. Every few steps I had to stop and calm myself for fear I'd pass out. Back in the living room I fell on the couch and lay there for who knows how long. My feet were hurting, my sex and rear full and throbbing from the bumping torture of the stairs and I was hating/loving every second of it.
Eventually I managed to get back to my feet and to the basement steps. Once more I drove the dildos into myself with every stair step. Two, maybe three more breathless orgasms hit me before I could stand and hobble to the key. Shaky hands got the bag opened and my wrist cuffs seperated, but I still wasn't free. The ropes fell to the floor quickly and I wondered if I should use something that locked the next time. Still booted and gagged, locked in leather and latex I used the handrail to pull myself back up to the second floor. Back to my desk where I sat and opened my laptop.
I really need to stop using random settings on Timelock. I had another two hours before I could open the box and get free of the rest. I grabbed my cell and sent the text that I was safe and free (or close enough). It was 11:45 am.
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