Choking On Her Aspirations
  • Author - Closed Door Policy
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 703 of 2955
  • Story Codes - f-self, consensual, armbinder, bondage, breathplay, caught, extreme, humiliation, predicament, self-bondage
  • Post Date - 9/3/2019

Author's Note: I'm not an engineer, so if anyone can figure out an actual device that does what I describe, I'd definitely be interested.

Jane was shy, single, and kinky. It was a perfect recipe to result in her curiosity and experimentation with self bondage.

In her adolescence she would breathlessly wait for her parents to leave on a grocery trip, or she would fake illness to avoid joining a visit to a relative's. While alone in the house, Jane delighted in her top secret and favorite activity of binding herself with whatever materials she could get her hands on.

It started with forum posts about using belts to lash her ankles to her thighs, then looping a scarf and placing her hands inside, and twisting it so that she could feel the cinch hold her wrists together. Jane soon graduated to rope (which included one of the most bashful displays of behavior at the purchase counter in the history of the local hardware store) and learning about slip knots, single column ties, double columns, and how to cinch everything safe and tight.

Years went by and she went on dates, but she never dared to mention her desires to any of the boys. They came and went, none very long term, because her interest waned as it butted against her need for bondage play. But she couldn't bring herself to open that part of her to another human behind. She remembered one boy took her to see a movie, and there was a scene where a woman was bound to a chair and gagged with her own headband...Jane's nerves caused so many butterflies that she didn't have to fake nausea too hard, and she ran to the bathroom. After that, she couldn't bear to be around that cute boy, she felt he saw right through to her kinky core.

Jane had tried dating women too, hoping that perhaps a bit more emotional availability in the relationship might allow her an avenue to express herself. Sadly, she hadn't been able to make that leap. She kept to herself, and it become a special part of her that no one else knew. She hid it away and kept it precious and pristine as she grew bolder, more knowledgeable, and a bit more reckless.

After almost fifteen years of this, it had just become the normal. Jane moved in to rent a house with a friend from college, Megan. They worked their respective jobs and went on sporadic dates with the latest love interest, they hung out and argued over whose dishes cluttered the sink, and they each handled some share of the utilities. They had a shut door policy, as Jane had once walked in on Megan having sex with a man.

Jane remembered Megan had her hands gripping the bed posts while her partner straddled her. Megan was shocked and embarrassed, but Jane's embarrassment cut far deeper.

"If he had wrapped each hand to the bedpost, using rope or a pillow case..." Jane thought to herself after a torrent of apologies and closing the door and a near anxiety attack. It flooded her thoughts, how great it would feel to pull against the bonds without any give.

The closed bedroom door policy became an unspoken house rule. There weren't locks on the doors, but neither woman wanted that moment to become a potential repeat. And so Jane was always confident that when her door was closed, she could get away with anything.

With an adult paycheck came adult resources. Jane had accumulated many toys including quality ropes, a corset that was about her size, an assortment of balls and bits and panels attached to leather harnesses that fit her mouth in various ways and sizes, and enough privacy to enjoy them all.

Jane was, as stated, shy, single, and kinky. Due to the closed door policy, she had become rather lax in cleaning up her room, so we could add messy to that list. The final ingredient to a disaster was that she was unbelievably horny. It only took one summer day to percolate everything together.

"I don't know J," Megan speared the last bit of chicken out of her salad, "I thought he and I would get more serious. It sucks."

"Sometimes it's just not the right time," Jane pecked at a very light dinner. She was expecting a good workout this evening.

Megan was going on for what felt like ages about the latest guy, some pretty boy at work, who had dumped her. Jane had spent all week dreaming of the perfect Friday night scenario, to the point where she was getting wet at work that morning. But she was a good friend and a good roommate, and she's listened to Megan mope for a good hour and a half after work.

"I can't tell if he didn't want to open up to me, or maybe he just didn't want to get tied down," Megan said, and Jane prayed that her best friend didn't notice her deep blush.

Jane washed down her egg and quinoa with a splash of water, then reached over and grabbed her roommate's hand with both of hers.

"Whatever it was, he'll realize you are worth it," Jane said with a smile, "And if he doesn't, it's his loss. But now it's all about you feeling better."

"You're right," Megan nodded, "And I think the first order of things is a nice decompression Friday. Movie, bath, ice cream. Maybe not in that order."

"Meg, if that's what is going to feel good, I say do it," Jane got up and put her plate in the dishwasher, getting eager to begin her personal therapy that night, "Or hit the gym. Or the club. Or whatever it is that centers you."

Megan followed suit in clearing her plates, and gave her best friend a hug, "You're the best," she hopped off to throw on pajamas and start a bath. Jane made her way to her bedroom, the farthest room back on the first floor. She could hear Megan upstairs, readying for a cozy night in.

"Finally," Jane muttered to herself as her door clicked shut.

The whole day had been prep work. Jane had eaten a breakfast and lunch of fats and proteins, and a light dinner. She'd limbered up at a yoga class during midday, and had spent all day fantasizing about her newest DIY invention. She had made it up on Tuesday night and given it a test run both Wednesday and Thursday, but she'd kept herself edged for tonight.

She was so excited when she got home she'd simply thrown her work clothes and coat in her already messy room. Sweaters and yoga pants covered her floor, tights and scarves strewn from the bedpost and on her night stand, socks littered everything. The only things that were ever in their proper place were her bondage toys.

Jane dug in her closet for her materials. She got out a corset and some thigh high heel boots, several coils of jute rope, her favorite head harness with an inch and a half ball gag, and a roll of duct tape. She also retrieved the fruit of her labor, a homemade armbinder.

For so long she'd dreamt of what it would feel like to wear an armbinder. While she wouldn't know the extreme intimacy of a partner lacing her up in a leather monoglove, her creation had potential to come close.

Jane had a knack for sewing and had made herself a lovely Frankenstein's monster. She had started with a pair of thick stretch workout pants, a size smaller than she wore. She'd pulled one leg inside out, then fed it down the other leg so that it was double thick. She had tested the size before she did any work and had worked her arms behind her back and up as far as she could push, and she could feel a good compression squeeze.

From there, Jane had set to work sewing carefully measured belt loops around the pants, at pre-marked spaces which indicated her wrists, an inch below her elbows, and an inch above them. Jane worked her magic cutting and sewing the waist of the pants, which existed as a flap above the sleeve, so that it measured able to cup and hug her shoulders. Jane had tapered and sewn shut the ankle ends, so that instead of her hands poking out the bottom of the pants they met in a prayer-like position or a balled up fist.

Finally, she had spent a very long time on the belts. This particular bit of ingenuity involved not only thick nylon belts that went in the belt loops to encircle the arms, but a sort of ratcheting system that utilized D rings and interwoven nylon webbing, all resulting in a sort of "spine" to the armbinder. The nylon webbing could attach to something, and by running it up and over her shoulder it would pull the armbinder up her arms past where she could wiggle it. By pulling more, it distributed the force through the D rings and the nylon belts, resulting in a steady tightening of each at the wrists and above and below the elbows.

Of course it wasn't quite perfect. During the initial trial run on Tuesday, Jane looped the nylon webbing to her bed post and bent over and walked backwards. The sensation of the armbinder climbing up her arms felt incredible, and the tightening of the straps almost made her come where she was. But the tension wouldn't remain unless it was locked down in some way. By simply walking forward Jane could feel the pressure ease just a bit, and it took some wiggling but she was able to coax the nylon straps into loosening enough for her to leverage her arms out.

It was awesome! But Jane had worked so hard, she wanted more than just another wiggle escape. She needed a goal, where she was inescapably bound until she reached it. That way she could thrash and enjoy the sensation without making it out too early.

So her final phase was to include a reverse tension system. Through more webbing and a locking strap, feeding the straps back through the D rings, she had done it. She fed this system through the top of the armbinder and down the inside, where her hands would be. Now she could pull on the main strap to tighten the armbinder, then from within she could pull the locking strap to keep the tension locked. To release, she'd have to hook the plastic clip-like lock on something sturdy and pull it open.

Now, we know what you're thinking. That's some danger-prone stuff. But that was Wednesday's dry run. Jane had done it with only her hands in the armbinder, and then again with her legs frogtied. She had attached the strap lock to the end of the binder, and by catching it on the bottom of the nearby dresser she was able to open it and release the tension. This worked perfectly on Wednesday's trial runs.

As far as a fall off the bed? Nothing new for Jane, especially onto a carpet with pants and shirts piled up. She'd done it so many times she lost count.

Jane was shaking with anticipation. She hadn't orgasmed in over a week, and that included two nights where she had strapped herself into her own homemade armbinder. She attached the nylon strap in place at the foot of the bed and fed it up onto her mattress, giving herself plenty of lead to flop around freely, then to get off the side of the bed release the locking latch.

"...when I'm ready," she bit her lip and said to herself.

She slipped the corset over her athletic frame. She didn't tighten it, as she didn't want to restrict breathing, but it felt nice around her waist, pressing her moderate breasts together into a nice bit of cleavage. Jane donned the thigh high boots, popping her heels up to make her appear taller than her 5' 6" frame.

She got to work first with her mouth. Jane knew she was a moaner, and while the closed door policy was a good one she knew the door itself wasn't soundproof. Jane had a pretty big mouth for someone her size, but fitting two pair of panties inside it meant negotiating some room. Her cheeks were bulging like a chipmunk as she raised the ball gag up to her teeth. It took some work, but Jane was intimately familiar with this particular ball gag. Many a night she'd worn it to bed, despite all the forums posting their cautionary tales.

She got the ball past her teeth and went right to work on the harness, knowing that once she relaxed her jaw the natural effect of the stuffing would push the ball outward. Jane tightened the strap behind her head, the one that ran up the sides of her nose and over her forehead, and finally the chin strap. She exhaled through her nose but didn't relax yet, grabbing the duct tape.

Cringing a bit at how loud the tape was, Jane reminded herself that Megan was running a bath, and she brought the tape around her head several times with the skill of someone who had done this plenty of times before. She didn't raise her shoulder length brown hair up, she was feeling the "tucked in look" this evening, as she wrapped over, above, and below the ball, then repeated each. She cut the tape and took her hands to smooth it over before placing the roll on her bedside table.

"Hhmmmmmm," she smiled behind the layers of tape.

Her insides were already atwitter and she wasn't even to the main course. Jane did a quick but thorough roping of each booted leg in a frogtie, sealing her heel to her thigh, complete with a cinch to ensure they stayed that way.

The first step, as she had practiced, was fitting the shoulders. She had remade the waist of the pants to sit on her shoulders and hug to the front, and she had sewn on some nylon straps that tightened both underneath the armpits and in an X across her back and across her chest. With these in place, the binder was like a super hero cape, and she could run around all day without it coming off.

Next was getting onto her back and sliding her wrists into the open hole of what were the workout pants. She had to come in from a wide angle, almost like a box tie. Once she had her wrists in, she straightened her arms carefully, keeping them inside the binder, and its grip on her shoulders caused it to "walk it up" her arms. She could feel when she got the binder to her elbows, which already felt amazing. Now it was a matter of rolling onto her stomach and keeping the armbinder on her, so that with her arms behind her back she was staring at the nylon strap that would finish the job.

With her bound hands, Jane grabbed the strap on the inside to prevent premature tightening of anything, and she scooted backwards (very difficult with bound legs) to pull the strap tight and bring the binder a few more centimeters farther up her arms. She could feel it get to her mid upper arm, and it was time to tighten. Jane let go of the inside strap and pushed farther back still, and the feeling was everything she thought it would be and more.

The yoga flexibility paid off as Jane squeezed her elbows together as hard as she could, giving the binder more room to ease up her arms. When it would go no further, sitting at her armpits, the pull on the nylon strap started to tighten the D ring device. The tension was distributed across all three nylon belts and Jane felt each one steadily grip her tighter and tighter. The nylon belts around her wrists, elbows, and upper arms constricted like an unforgiving snake, and she was in a wonderful world of pleasure.

When the tightness was snug and progress started to halt, Jane took a deep breath through her nose and yanked back one more time. The last bit of tightening held her arms fast, and she grabbed the locking feed inside the glove and pulled with what tiny bit of movement she had in her hands. She felt the secondary nylon strap tighten, eating up slack, and as she pulled it taught she heard a distinctive click click click of the ratchet-like lock holding all the tension.

"Mmmph," an exhale escape her. She was already sweating, and some of her hair had escaped her tape job and was dangling in front of her eyes, wafting with her breath. She couldn't brush it back if she tried.

The world stood still for a moment. Jane was breathing heavily through her nose in disbelief. Her arms were welded tight behind her back, even when she inched forward. The slack in the nylon straps in front of her did not bring any loosening of the belts around her arms.

Every pair of panties, the two in her mouth and the pair she was wearing, were soaked as she enjoyed the embrace. For what felt like the first time in ages she let go of the tension in her arms and shoulders, and it was eaten up by the hug of the fabric. It molded to every curve of Jane's arms, every twist of her shoulders. She was perfectionist about her bondage, and did not like to suspend disbelief about helplessness, and so she pressed her shoulder forward on the bed to see if she could rub the binder off.

The nylon straps that ran criss cross her chest and had no give, squeezing her breasts and allowing a moan of pleasure escape her. But that moan was soaked up by cotton and rubber and tape, and she felt the pressure from it feed back into her helplessness.

Jane was soon pressing her shoulders, then her hips, and then her sex into the mattress as hard as possible. She forgot about the timidness she always felt, she forgot about her job, and she forgot about anything except for how great it felt to have her arms inescapably hugged behind her back with the equalized pressure, to have her feet pointed upward uselessly in frogtied high heels, and to be thoroughly gagged.

Only briefly did she regret not wearing her blindfold or hood. But she wasn't sure how to account for watching the nylon strap and recreating the absolute fucking miracle that was a self bondage homemade armbinder, and just as quickly that regret passed by as Jane faded into pure bliss.

Jane imagined a partner. Not a man or woman or any particular gender. Just a partner. Someone who she could be comfortable and relaxed around, who she could even tell about her fantasies and needs.

This partner would listen calmly, warmly, and attentively while she laid bare every aching desire of bondage and restraint before them. They wouldn't judge, they wouldn't worry, they wouldn't call her weird. They would simply listen, then take her chin in their hand and kiss her quivering lips. Then they would pull a soft satin cloth tight over her eyes, it would hug around her head and cover even her ears, and she would give in to them.

Jane was edging herself as she imagined her perfect person. She didn't care that it could have been anyone she'd dated. She didn't care that it could be anyone she took the leap to tell. She had made herself an armbinder, she knew how to restrain herself in more ways than almost any person she could meet. She knew just how to be touched, and just how much bondage she wanted.

"MmmmmMMMmmMM," a continuous stream of pleasure was stopped up by her gag.

"Better to come on the floor," she thought, thinking of not only the mattress but also of the concentration and energy it would take to drop down. If she was going to come as hard as possible, she wanted minimal effort to free herself afterward.

Jane backed up to the edge of the bed and began to slide backwards, little by little, as she had done so many times before. This time, however, she was much more worked up, and she couldn't help but want more of the particular angle that she was humping the edge of the mattress as she was sliding downward. With a slight whimper, Jane wobbled her bound and folded legs to maintain balance as the very helplessness of sliding brought her to new heights of pleasure. She pressed forward with her hips as hard as she could and felt a brief sensation of weightlessness. Her eyes went wide as she instinctively yanked at the armbinder to find balance, but she slid sideways into into the bedpost, which was padded with her carelessly strewn garments, and landed on the floor where she orgasmed harder than ever before in her life.

Her world was strobing, flashing, convulsing, and restriction. Wave after wave after wave of the most intense feelings she'd ever felt, from pleasure to frustration to a cramp in her left thigh, Jane twisted and pressed and moaned into her gag before she drifted off.

Jane's eyes fluttered open and her first thought was the aching in her arms. There was no way she passed out for more than a few seconds, but the post-orgasm feeling was familiar. She had only a experienced a few sessions of bondage where she came several times, she usually wanted out after the first one. The pressure in her arms made this extreme example one of those more common endings.

Orienting herself for a moment, she was thankful that the orgasm covered up her slide to the ground. Even a few inches of a fall is still terrifying when you're helplessly bound, no matter how many times she'd done it. The dresser was fairly close to the bed in this small room, so a little bit of crawling would give her the bottom lip of oak to latch the ratchet lock on to and release herself.

Jane scooted forward and was met with two terrifying sensations.

First, her progress was short-lived, she stayed very close to the bed. Second, she felt a soft but definite tightening around her throat. She had experimented with collars and a bit of choking, but never gagged as she was, and never coupled with an escape mechanism.

She looked down as best she could and could see there was something teal colored wrapped in front of her. Rolling slightly onto one shoulder, she looked up and her eyes widened as she recognized her cotton teal scarf, one of the many that she had thrown without regard earlier in the week. It was looped and twisted atop the bed frame, caught on itself and tangled with some other fabrics, and pulled rather tight. She nudged a little bit and felt it tighten around her throat, and her stomach dropped.

"Jane, your room is ridiculous," Megan had laughed when Jane's door was open sometime last month, "I'm buying you a hamper."

Among the pile of clothes, Jane surmised that her less-than-controlled fall to the ground had sent her through her teal scarf. She'd spun and twisted, and then on the ground she'd rolled and yanked and turned. She couldn't be sure if it was knotted or just wrapped, but a couple of shrugs and tugs to each side provided her with that soft but definite tightening.

Fuck! she thought, which came out as "FFMMK!" and started working her hands inside the armbinder. Fuck fuck fuck fuck FUUUUCK! "Ffmmk ffmmk ffmmk ffmmk FFFMMMMMMMKF!"

With each grunt Jane twisted her arms to see if she could find any sort of grip with her elbows. Inside the armbinder, she grabbed a handful of fabric with her hands and tried to pull it down, but what tiny bit of leverage she was able to find simply pulled downward on her shoulders. She rolled up onto each shoulder and tried again, but she simply didn't have the angle to pull anything harder than a slight tug, which the nylon straps ate up.

"Mrrrphmmmrr..." she muffled out loud, thinking to herself, "Mmm ffmmrf fs mmmkmmm mmm...mmmph...mmph phmmk..."

I'm own scarf is choking me...and...this sucks...

It flashed in her head that one of her fetishes is having her own things used against her. Gagged with her own panties. Leashed by her own scarf. Betrayed by her own woven things. She remembered back to the movie that she ran out of with that boy, seeing a girl gagged with her own headband, and she shuddered and shook her head.


Jane had been in pickles before this. Over the last fifteen years, she'd definitely been stuck. There was the time she handcuffed herself and the keyhole was on the inside of the cuffs. That had been a bad one, but she was able to twist and turn enough to fit the key into the hole completely blindly, not even being able to feel progress. Then there was the time she rolled herself in a homemade duct tape sheet. That was way too warm, and it took an excessive amount of poking with a pair of scissors to create enough give to rip it.

Here, she was simply in a homemade armbinder that was fully tightened, squeezing her arms together behind her back, frogtied in heels that made her feet useless, and on a leash the length of a scarf with only a bit of stretch, while almost choking on two pairs of panties and a big rubber ball, and only able to breathe through her nose.

Jane's heart sank as she took stock of that last paragraph, bit by bit. She found panic as she tried to shrug the binder loose from her shoulders, but she made no more progress than she had while up on the bed. The locking strap's latch was out of reach of her frogtied high heels, as a few minutes of waving her foot fruitlessly made sure of.

The bedframe! "Mmph mmhpffmmf!"

There was no reason she had to use the dresser to pry open the ratchet lock! She had a sturdy leg holding up her bed, she should be able to use that! Jane craned her neck behind her as much as she could while turning her body and rolling onto her side. Her shoulder ached as she bit down on her gag and felt the locking strap's latch behind her, sewn tight to the armbinder.

She couldn't see it, but she'd made it, she'd sewn it on, and she'd tested it enough times to know exactly what the latch was doing. It was holding steady. Jane might have been athletic, but she couldn't exert enough force over the latch to force it to open. Maybe if it only responded to one of the belts that encircled her arms, maybe then she'd be able to give it enough of a yank. But all the power of her arms was being spread across three belts, and three sets of D rings and tension loops. It had been a lot of effort to pull it tight, she wasn't going to be able to muster enough to force it back open.

Jane could feel the plastic latch catch just a little bit on the bed post. The locking strap's latch was sewn on to the armbinder just at her mid forearm, which she now realized was frustratingly out of reach of her more dextrous hands. If she had put it down on her hands she would only have to manipulate her wrists to catch and pull the latch. As it was she had to shimmy her entire body to get her forearms close, and it was wearing her energy down.

When I get out, move that damn thing down to my wrists. That's the first order of business. After a bath. And after sleep. And after the pain in my shoulders goes away.

"Mmmmmmmph mmph mmph..." she let out a sobbing moan as her shoulders continued to be pulled back by the unforgiving and unrelenting fabric. On the bright side, this might help my posture. She tried to stave off panic.

Again she could feel the release latch catch just a little bit on the bed post, but there just wasn't enough purchase to effectively pull it open. Other than the best post having a corner, the latch was too small and there was nothing to catch on to it. Jane "Mmmphrrph"ed frustration and backed up again, pressing her bound arms against the post and hearing the little plastic latch catch the corner. Then she slowly...slowly...carefully moved her arms forward, being careful to maintain pressure on the latch...

...and she felt the latch slide off the post, fully locked and attached to the armbinder. Jane's head fell forward and she screamed as tears welled up in her eyes.


That's when she froze.

That might have been loud. What if Megan had heard?

Shit, no, please....please don't have heard...

The sound of Jane's breathing was loud, and her own heartbeat sounded even louder as she lay on the floor. She stayed perfectly still, listening to any squeak or sound coming from anywhere in the house. If Megan had heard her...she was frozen at the very thought.

It felt like an eternity had passed. The adrenaline in her veins started to subside as the ache in her arms returned. Jane managed to lift her head as a tiny trickle of saliva made its way through a small channel in the tape. She was now drooling on the floor, completely helpless, and she wanted out. She looked ahead to the dresser, not but a couple of feet away, and she wondered how tightly she had worn this very scarf. It's soft, it would probably make the stretch.

Jane nudged forward with only a couple of grunts, consciously trying to stay as quiet as possible, even though she was pretty sure her gag kept her plenty quiet. She was still a good foot away from her goal when she felt her leash go taut. Jane narrowed her eyes and pushed forward, feeling a slight squeeze on her throat, but she bit down on her gag and tightened her neck and went to close the gap.

Eight inches, maybe! "Mmmmmph," Jane let out as she turned her hips so that the latch faced toward the dresser. All she had to do was catch it underneath. The scarf around her neck became more and more like a noose, steadily tightening as she worked to scoot backward millimeter by millimeter.

"Mm-KMPH-KMPH-kmph-," Jane was coughing and retching with cotton and rubber and tape in the way. Her arms began to flail behind her, desperate to reach back far enough and find the dresser. They were uselessly held together and could only reach back an extra inch or two, and she might as well have been a mile away from freedom. Jane inhaled as much as she could, as she thanked herself for not tightening the corset, and backed up as far as her body would allow. The reaching turned to spasms as her gloved hands just barely brushed against the dresser, but he felt a pulsing in her neck that told her she might black out if she keeps this up.

With defeat, Jane eased off the pressure and collapsed toward the bed. She immediately felt the scarf around her neck loosen slightly, no longer choking her.

Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Breathe in. Breathe out. Her mantra stayed with her for several minutes, fighting to reclaim the oxygen she'd used through her two tiny nostrils. More than once Jane rubbed her face against the carpet, pushed with her tongue, and hoped against hope that her gag would move.

Nothing moved. Her gag filled her entire mouth. Her arms were still being squeezed by the compressing fabric and by the belts which hadn't loosened. She kicked her folded legs a few times and there was no give in either the ropes nor the boots.

When Jane heard Megan's voice, she again froze completely. Her roommate was talking to someone as she padded down the stairs, and the voice grew louder as Megan approached Jane's bedroom door!

"Yeah, that sounds like a plan, works for me," Megan was right outside Jane's bedroom door.

KNOCK KNOCK! Two knocks was the closed door policy. Only an affirmative to enter would be in line with that policy, and both girls respected it.

"mmm," Jane was shocked at how little sound escaped her throat, even gagged as she was. The scarf had choked her even tighter than she had thought, and her hoarse whimper was barely enough to register.

Jane started walking away from the door and she heard her on the phone again.

"It's alright, she must be calling it an early night. I'll just be bringing me tonight, I really need to blow off steam," the footsteps were walking farther away and car keys jingled, "Alriiiiiight see you soon! Woo woo, club time!"

NO! "Mmph!"

Jane panicked and struggled again. When Megan went out clubbing, she stayed until it closed down. Would she even make it home tonight? If she gets home would she just pass out? Oh god when was Megan going to check on her!?

Jane let out the loudest scream she could muster. It came from deep within, propelled by complete frustration and fear and anger. Even though she could feel the power behind her cry for help, she could also feel the sound absorb into the panties in her mouth, the rubber ball that kept her jaw pried open, and the tape that encircled her head.


The heavily muffled mew wasn't enough. Jane heard the front door close, and she could have kicked herself. Well, she wished she could have. She wished she could do anything more than lie on the floor in a twisted mess of limbs and rope and cloth, freedom mere inches away.

Trying one more time to move forward, even a few inches, she felt the pressure tighten around her neck. Jane heard Megan's car start up and she began pulling and thrashing, twisting her arms behind her, trying to catch the locking latch on anything. She tried to pull her arms apart, to fight the nylon webbing and the double thick workout pants turned into an armbinder. Jane opened her mouth as far as it would go to spit out her gag, and she clamped down at it as hard as she could to find the strength to fight her bondage.

It felt like hours, but it could have only been minutes, before Jane had to stop and concentrate on breathing and fighting back the tears. As she sobbed she let out a last few squirts of energy into her binds, and she felt a new orgasm welling up inside. Jane new that she was going to stay right where she was until Megan freed her, and what was worse than the excruciating bondage was the complete and total humiliation of her best friend finding out her greatest secret.

Jane imagined being discovered over and over and over again, and each time she felt the bottom drop out of her stomach. Each time she screamed a pitiful scream into her gag. Each time she fought with diminishing vigor to free her arms. More than once she tried to untwist her careless cotton noose, to reach for the dresser, and to catch her only means of release on the bed post. Eventually Jane gave in, grinding her hips and her sex into her own carpet, gagged with her own panties, bound by her own hand, held by her own devices, until she fell asleep.

The End
The author has indicated there will be no future updates

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