This story contains: F/SELF - F/F

Synopsis: Kendra Bond enjoys some self-bondage in plain sight, risking to be caught and embarrassed in public. However, the surprise will come when she gets back home...

Winter is my favorite season of the year. The long coats, the warm clothes and the chance to practice one of my fetishes in plain sight: bondage.

Hello everyone. Let me introduce myself. My name is Kendra Bond, I’m forty-four years old and I’ve been practicing self-bondage since fifteen.

I’m tall, but I still like to wear heels every time I can, and, despite my height, I’ve got a rather curvy body. My hair is blonde, my eyes are blue, and I wear executive glasses.

I work as a freelance designer, meaning I can organize my free time as I like, even though sometimes I have to work late at night.

Today wasn’t one of those busy days. Meaning I could use the evening to indulge in my little fantasy.

I had done similar things dozens of times. For a while, just self bondage didn’t feel enough. I missed the thrill, the danger, the possibility of being caught in the middle of a session. That’s why I began these… we could call, ‘special walks’.

After taking a warm shower, I put on my favorite lingerie: black lace bra and panties. Today I was wearing a strapless bra.

Then I prepared the rest of the outfit I would wear later: a tight pencil skirt, just below knee length, a white blouse and a cashmere cardigan. High heels, a red scarf and finally my special long black coat. This coat had its sleeves stuffed to make it look like I’d have my arms in there, which I obviously wouldn’t.

Then I took the small bag with the things I needed for the session.

First, I produced a piece of rope and maneuvered to give myself a nice chest harness, embracing my D-cup breasts in a rope frame. Next, I put on my blouse and cardigan and grabbed another piece of nylon.

Now the important part: I tied the rope around my waist tightly, then pulled it down towards my legs. I gave myself a crotchrope over my panties, pulling the rope tightly between my legs so it tugged against my clit. I bit my lower lip as the sensation sent a shiver through me—sharp pressure blooming into warmth, making my thighs tremble.

Each step I'd take tonight would brush the fabric against that vulnerable spot, a secret rhythm under snowfall’s quiet hush.

Then, I grabbed my pantyhose and put it on, so it went over my crotchrope, increasing the pressure slightly.

I took two more pieces of rope and bind my thighs together, and over my knees together.

One rope circled my thighs six inches above the knee, while the other cinched just below the hips.

Then, I put on my pencil skirt. I tried standing up and walk a little. It was awkward, but I didn’t really care. People in NYC didn’t use to care about their surroundings, so I was sure I would go unnoticed. I put on my heels and focused on my upper body.

I used a pair of hand-made handcuffs made of zipties and connected it to the rope around my waist.

Next, I worked on my gag. I grabbed two pairs of my own used panties, one lace, one cotton, and stuffed them deep into my mouth.

Then came the duct tape; I tore off a long strip, its metallic scent sharp in the cold bedroom air. Pressing it firmly over my lips, I began wrapping it around my head, sealing the stuffing in place. I made sure each loop was tighter than the one before.

I cut the tape at the twentieth loop, leaving a raw edge that caught on my hair. The seal felt immovable, only my nostrils remained free, but that would change soon enough.

I grabbed my red scarf and wound it around my head, completing two loops that covered my tape gag and my nose.

I checked my reflection in the mirror. My gag was hidden, my secret was concealed.

“MPHHHHH” I gave my gag a try, and gladly realized I couldn’t utter a sound.

I glanced at the clock; 7 PM. The sidewalks would still be crowded with holiday shoppers. Perfect.

Now, for the final touches, I grabbed my long coat and put it over my shoulders. I made sure the stuffed sleeves were inside the pockets to make it look causal before zipping it closed from inside.

After positioning myself near the bedpost, I stretched my arms backward. My fingers brushed the ziptie cuffs hanging from my waist rope. With practiced contortions, I threaded the loose end through the loop, feeling the teeth bite into the plastic as I pulled it taut. My wrists snapped together behind me, the sudden restriction making my breath hitch against the gag.

I checked my reflection once again. Not a rope visible, trapped hidden under the scarf, not a clue that, under this winter outfit, I was completely bound and gagged. It was perfect. Just… perfect.

***

The snowy air slapped my face the moment I stepped outside, sharp and clean, stinging my nostrils through the scarf’s wool weave. My heels clicked unevenly on the icy pavement.

With each tremor of effort, the crotchrope rubbed mercilessly against my clit, the nylon constriction amplified by my pantyhose’s taut pressure.

I caught a passerby’s glance and froze, pulse hammering until he turned the corner without a second look. Relief prickled through me, slick with adrenaline.

Navigating the bustling Christmas market proved agonizingly deliberate.

I shuffled in pinched steps, thighs held stiffly together by the ropes beneath my skirt, every movement sending jolts of raw sensation radiating upwards.

A child bumped my hipbone, jolting me unevenly onto my toes. The abrupt shift forced a muffled gasp against my gag, a choked sound instantly drowned by festive chatter.

Smells of roasted chestnuts, pine needles, and spiced cider thickened the air.

Behind the scarf, duct tape sealed my soaked panties tighter against my tongue’s desperate push.

My wrists strained against the plastic zipties binding them securely to the rope at my back, each subtle twist digging the hard knots deeper into my flesh.

Snowflakes melted against my coat collar, icy trails tracing my neckline as I halted before a jewelry stall glittering under strings of bulbs. The vendor leaned close to propose earrings "for someone special." I shook my head politely and continued walking.

Then it happened.

A sudden gust of wind ripped across the street, thick with swirling snowflakes.

I stumbled backward against its force, heels skidding slightly.

In that instant, I felt my scarf loosen, a terrifying slide against my covered lips.

Panic seized me: one more tug, one accidental brush, and the layers of tape gagging me would be exposed under the bright market lights.

My secret, my vulnerability, laid bare in public. The feeling of potential vulnerability was thrilling, yet I knew it was time to call it a day.

I hurriedly pivoted back towards my apartment building, heart hammering against my ribs like a frightened bird trapped against glass.

The ropes dug deeper with every rushed, hobbled step homeward, while I felt the scarf slowly slipping down.

***

The scarf slithered downward like escaping ivy, its woolen weight settling just above my collarbones as I lunged through the apartment lobby's revolving door. I sighed relieved. Now the hard part was reaching my keys from the back pocket of my skirt and open the door. However, when I reached it, I saw it was open.

I cursed, believing I had left it like that. Anyway, I walked inside.

The door clicked shut behind me as I stumbled into the darkened vestibule. Cool silence wrapped around me, thick as the scarf now hanging loosely around my neck.

My muffled gasp caught against the duct tape as I froze mid-step. There, across the living room, a hunched figure silhouetted against the muted city glow filtering through snow-dusted windows. The burglar’s gloved hands rifling through my grandmother’s antique tea set with predatory focus. A black ski mask swallowed her face whole, leaving only the furious gleam of narrowed eyes visible beneath its knit ridges.

She jerked upright at my choked stumble. Her gaze snapped toward me, taking in my skewed scarf, the bulging outline of tape beneath it distorting my mouth, and froze.

Then, a low, startled snort escaped her mask, followed by a ripple of incredulous laughter muffled behind dark wool. Her shoulders shook silently as she stared, head cocked in bewildered appraisal. The absurdity of confronting a gagged homeowner must’ve struck her as darkly hilarious amidst her crime.

“Oh, my God. I swear I didn’t expect to find anything like that”.

“Mphhhhh” I mumbled as she approached me.

She strode forward, chuckling darkly. Her gloved hands seized the lapels of my long coat. With one sharp tug, she ripped the zipper open. The stuffed sleeves tumbled out limp and empty. My shoulders, tensed against the cold and panic, suddenly felt exposed. She paused, her masked face tilting sideways as she stared openly at the zipties biting into my wrists locked behind my back—then trailed her gaze deliberately down my trapped body.

"Jesus," she breathed, thick with disbelief tinged by fascination.

Her fingers skimmed the outline of the rope harness tightening my cardigan against my ribs, then traced lower, over the pencil skirt, down to where the waist rope descended towards inside my pencil skirt.

I froze, pulse roaring in my ears as her thumb pressed hard against the nylon cord cinching my legs together just below my hips, through the will of my skirt. She gave the crotchrope an experimental tug.

The sudden jolt forced the crotchrope to grind savagely against my clit, and I jerked against her grip with a choked whimper.

“You have done a nice job on yourself, ma’am. Saves me quite some time. But, if you ask me, you’re still too free”.

“Mphhh??”

She shoved me forward abruptly. My bound legs buckled instantly, sending me crashing face-first onto the couch cushions. The impact drove the gag deeper, cotton and lace grinding against my teeth, as the crotch rope snapped taut, wrenching a silent scream from my lungs.

I heard movement as she knelt behind me. She grabbed my elbows with surprising speed, forcing them together while ignoring my muffled screams. I heard the sickening grind of nylon as she wound the rope savagely around them. Once. Twice. Pulling brutally tight, cinching the knot until I felt tendons protest.

“Now let’s make sure you can’t go take a walk again” she teased, as she forced my ankles together.

Her gloved fingers dug into my calves like ice picks. With brutal efficiency, she cinched a fresh rope around my ankles, sawing it tight against the nylon hose until my bones ground together. Then added another piece to bind my feet together, maneuvering around my high heels to get them close.

“Since you like bondage so much, I’m sure you know what this position is called” she mocked as made me bend my knees to get my ankles to my elbows.

Her thumb dug into my lower back, forcing my hips to arch unnaturally. I heard the whisper of rope slicing through air, then felt its coarse bite as she lashed it around my ankles and elbows to hogtie me.

“Now let’s get that scarf where it should have stayed”.

The burglar grabbed the dangling wool, winding it brutally around my neck like a noose. She looped it twice around my head and knotted it behind my neck, covering my mouth and nose as I’ve done myself more than one hour before.

“All set. Now if you don’t mind, I have some business to attend” she mocked.

“MPHHHHHHHHHH!!” my protests kept falling on deaf ears as she got back to search around my house.

Footsteps echoed through the apartment: drawers yanked open in the bedroom, closet doors rattling. But despite the fear, I could still feel the crotchrope pressing deeper with each frantic breath. The relentless friction amplified against the cushions, a cruel counterpoint to my helplessness that was getting me aroused.

The burglar reappeared silhouetted in the doorway, tossing my velvet jewelry pouch lightly in one hand. She knelt behind me and grabbed the hogtie ropes connecting elbows to ankles. With one sharp upward lift, she hoisted me onto my knees, forcing my chest harness ropes to bite into my ribs.

“It’s been a pleasure, honey. Thanks again for saving me half of the job”.

She gave a final, dismissive pat to my hogtied form before striding toward the door.

Her footsteps faded down the hallway, swallowed by the building’s hum. Silence rushed in, thick and suffocating. Then, one image appeared in my head, the back-up scissors I keep under my pillow. The only obstacle was to get there.

I wriggled a little and felt the bite on my clit again. One movement, another rub.

Then I thought about it. I had already been robbed and, by the time I managed to free myself, the burglary would be long gone… it didn’t matter if I had some fun in the meantime.

Then I wiggled again, but this time, with no intention of getting out.

“Mphhhh…” the touch of the magic rope made me moan in pleasure.

I had made up my mind. A little extra time in bondage wouldn’t do me any harm.