I'm not really sure how to start this story, so let me just give you some background . My name is Sally and I live in rural Devon, England, one of the prettiest parts of the country. I am 25 and single, have long blonde hair, I'm 5'8" and my vital statistics are 34C-31-35. I inherited a large Victorian house from my parents, sadly deceased, located in a tiny village, so I have no mortgage and can get by nicely on my salary as a teacher at a local primary school.

Okay, so that's the boring biography out of the way, now onto the interesting stuff. I have had a fetish for bondage ever since I was a young girl, but I've never told anyone that - no girl friends, certainly no boyfriend. I am really into self-bondage and have become something of a connoisseur in the art of restraining myself. My location is ideal for this – isolated, with no nearby houses and a large garden which is not overlooked, and in the middle of woods and hills. I have played out many tie-up games here without any danger of being discovered.

On the particular occasion I want to tell you about, I was having a new septic tank installed at the bottom of the garden – not very glamorous, but there you go. The workmen had dug a hole for it, about six feet deep and 10 feet long by four feet wide, but the delivery of the tank itself was delayed by a few days, so I was looking down into a deep pit in my garden, and my weird, perverted imagination started to work overtime. What an ideal opportunity, I told myself, for a unique self-bondage situation! I could get into the hole, away from prying eyes but open to the elements and beneath what promised to be a clear blue sky, tie myself up, have some fun in the dirt, wait for my release and then get out and carry on my day – simple! Of course, there would be a little more to it than that, there always was with me, but the initial outline of the plan was simple. It was a Friday, and I spent the rest of the day thinking up exactly the bondage I would use, what I would wear, and what extra little challenges I could set myself.

I woke really early the next morning and, as I was too excited to sleep any more, got into my running gear and was out in the early August dawn by 6AM. I live on the side of a steep hill with a public footpath running up through the woods to an ancient hill fort (just earthworks, no castle walls or anything). I jogged up there, happy to see no-one else was about at this ungodly hour, and looked around for a suitable hiding place for my handcuff keys. I hid them under a heavy rock by the third fence post from the gate into the next field – I memorised the location carefully as I would be retrieving them later, possibly in the dark, as wandering around here during the day in the sexy clothing and bondage paraphernalia I intended to use would be a bit risky, since walkers frequently came this way. I continued my run for another five miles, feeling very virtuous, which would make up for the naughty stuff to come.

By the time I got back, the sun was up, it was already quite warm and I was very sweaty. I jumped under a cold shower, which perked me up, then I warmed it up so I could shave my legs, armpits and pussy – by the time I got out I was as smooth as a baby! I went downstairs in the nude and fixed myself a big breakfast – I was planning a long day and wasn't sure when I'd get my next meal. I went out into the garden, still nude, to check everything was okay. The ladder into the hole was in place, and I had rigged up a pole overhanging the hole from which I would suspend my release keys. It all looked good, except... it looked really dry down there. I had envisaged myself rolling around in mud, getting filthy while I struggled desperately (and oh so sexily) in my bonds. To rectify the problem, I got the hose which was lying on the grass, turned on the tap and pointed the jet into the hole. I made the whole thing nice and damp, allowing a puddle to form just where the keys would drop, then left the nozzle dangling over the edge of the hole to make sure it didn't dry up later in the day, turning the tap down a bit so I didn't flood it and drown myself.

Back into the house and more preparations. First, one of my back-up plans – a note to leave on the kitchen table for my friend and neighbour Dafne, who always comes over for coffee on Monday morning. If I was still not free by then – hopefully that was never going to happen – she would find the note telling her I was stuck in the hole and come to help me. Dafne didn't know about my fetish and it would be horribly embarrassing if I had to get her to release me, but better that than be there when the tank was delivered on Tuesday! Now to get dressed up for my little adventure.

I may not have mentioned this but I also have a fetish for tight, clinging rubber, as well as the bondage thing - I know, terrible, isn't it? And to think that they let me teach children! I took out a pair of black latex stockings and slid into them, pulling them up to the top of my thighs, enjoying the feel of them gently squeezing my legs. My breathing was already a little shallow and ragged as I picked up my shoes. They were black patent leather with two inch platforms and six inch heels, real fuck-me shoes, which were a little painful and difficult to walk in, but so sexy it was worth it.

Next, I stepped into my black latex body suit and pulled it up. It was cut high on the thighs and was no more than a thong at the back, leaving my buttocks entirely bare. I struggled into the arms of the suit, which ended in integral gloves, then pulled the zip from just above the crotch to the high neck line, so that my upper body would have been entirely encased in rubber, if it hadn't been for the fact that there were cut-outs over my breasts so that they were left exposed and accessible.

I was definitely struggling to breathe now as my level of excitement grew, my heart thumping in my chest. My hands were shaking as I picked up the black latex hood and put it over my head, pulling my blonde hair through the hole at the top, twisting and inching the tight rubber down until it covered my face and formed a close fit against the neck of the suit.

I turned and looked at myself in the full-length bedroom mirror and, as always, I was stunned by the figure in front of me, transformed from a very ordinary young woman into an absolute sex goddess. I had to tell myself to try and calm down as I picked up my cloth and polished the rubber until I was gleaming from head to foot.

I was within a whisker of cumming but knew I had to control myself or I would never finish what I'd started out to do. I took out my rubber bit gag and strapped it tightly between my teeth, forcing my jaws apart; I tucked the chin strap in place and ran the straps up my cheeks to the top of my head, where another strap went to the back and buckled up behind. There were squares of leather attached to the side straps which acted like blinkers on a horse, removing my peripheral vision and forcing me to turn my head if I wanted to see something to my side.

Again I checked myself out in the mirror and felt even more turned on as my mouth started to salivate and I had to struggle to stop myself dribbling. I ran my gloved fingers over the few areas of flesh still exposed and felt hot, really hot, and not just from the confining rubber. It took a supreme act of will to stop me bringing myself off in a glorious orgasm.

I knew the next part of my preparation would be the hardest, as I squeezed lubricant onto the vibrating butt plug, spread my legs, pulled the body suit to one side and, bending forward, eased it into my backside. I groaned as it opened me up and then went deeper and deeper until I felt completely stuffed.

I was panting and saliva was now drooling over my chin. I caught it in my gloved hand and rubbed it over my bare breasts. Slowly I straightened up and picked up my vibrator, one I had only recently bought, which had a curved shaft so that the head pressed against my G spot, and a special 'butterfly' attachment to stimulate the clitoris – I loved it. This one didn't need any lubricant as I was dripping already and, as I pushed it into place, I felt my knees trembling and once again I had to fight to stop myself cumming. I took a few seconds to regain some semblance of composure, before pulling the latex back into place and hiding the invaders.

I picked out my shiniest pair of handcuffs and closed one bracelet around my right wrist, leaving the other open for later. I put a long piece of chain, two padlocks and two wide leather belts into a bag and tottered uncertainly downstairs.

I would be using an ice release mechanism and I went to the freezer to retrieve it. I had a large plastic bottle filled with water which had been in there for over a week. In the middle of the ice was a set of keys which worked the padlocks in my bag, tied to a block of wood which hung out of the neck of the bottle – this ensured that the keys would definitely not get accidentally stuck in the bottle and also I would be able to find the keys with my searching fingers once they fell to the ground. As I lugged the bottle out into the garden, I picked up my second back-up plan, my mobile phone, which would go into the hole with me and enable me to call Dafne if I got trapped down there.

I fixed the bottle to the pole by the ring I had attached to the bottom, so it would hang upside down as the ice melted. Knowing it was going to be a hot sunny day, I had wrapped the bottle in aluminium foil to prevent the ice from melting too quickly. I made my way awkwardly down the ladder, my nervousness and excitement rising as I stepped onto the wet earth and felt my heels sink in.

The fears and doubts inevitably started to rise at this point, but I'm used to that, and I just had to push them from my mind as I finalised my preparations. I put the end of the chain around my waist, pulling it as tight as I could before I padlocked it in place, then I ran the chain down between my buttocks, through my legs and up and under itself at the front, forming a crotch chain which could be pulled tight as I struggled. I sat down on the cool mud and wrapped the silvery links around my thighs, then ran the chain between my legs to wrap around my ankles just behind.

As I closed the second padlock, I knew I was now stuck here until the ice melted, which sent a shiver of excitement through me, but I was not yet finished. With some difficulty, I managed to loop the leather belts around my upper body, one above my breasts and one below, pulling them as tight as I could as I buckled them, pinning my arms to my sides. Nearly there! I managed to reach down between my legs and switch on the two vibrators and, with my last bit of focused willpower, twisted my arms behind my back and closed the bracelet around my left wrist, completing my bondage.

At last I could give myself over to the intense feelings running through my body and I let out a guttural moan as I toppled over onto my side and stretched my legs back, rolling onto my stomach and pulling the chain tight, driving the vibrators deeper into me. Within seconds I was crying and moaning through one of the most intense orgasms I'd ever had, as I writhed on the ground, twisting and turning as I came so hard and for so long I thought I was going to pass out.

When my orgasm finally subsided I already felt spent, but I knew I had at least another two hours of this. The vibrators had an intermittent function, so after ten minutes they shut off for ten minutes, giving me a brief respite from their stimulation. I went through cycle after cycle, being forced to cum each time the vibrators started up. I hardly moved, except to squirm and writhe around when I started to climax yet again.

Soon I was burning up and I realised that, with the August sun directly overhead, black rubber was not the best sunbathing costume. I twisted myself around until I could see my release mechanism but there was only the occasional slow drip of melt water, so it was going to be a while and I needed to cool off.

I could see the hose pipe was still running and I wriggled and squirmed, inch by inch, towards it, the chain digging into my ankles and thighs and pushing the vibrators further into me. When they fired up again, I couldn't go on as they drove me to another climax. When I had cum and they had paused again, I felt too shattered to move but knew I had to or I would be in an even worse state next time. I shuffled painfully over the ground until I could slide into the pool of muddy water under the hose and I positioned myself so that the cold water was spraying over my head and body.

It was a sweet relief and I just lay there, resting, until the vibrators kicked in and 'tortured' me again. My bottom was giving me terrible pain by now, as the butt plug had been thrust much further in than I was used to, and my pussy was aching after so many orgasms. But this was what my self-bondage was about – if I didn't want to be suffering I wouldn't have got into this. My body and my beautiful shiny rubber outfit were now covered in mud, but I didn't care, I just had to lie there and grind my teeth against the bit in my mouth, while I waited for the ice to melt.

I don't know how long it took but at last I heard a plop and saw the wooden block floating in the water a few feet from me. I felt a wave of relief, but when I tried to wriggle towards the key, I couldn't move! I was exhausted by the vibrators, which thankfully had run down their batteries, and I had sunk into the mud a few inches and it did not want to let me go.

With a suddenly rising panic I thrashed from side to side, sending waves across the pool and after a few seconds I got myself free and could move again. I struggled through the water towards the block but, frustratingly, I kept washing it away from my grasp. Eventually I got it and crawled out of the water.

I have had plenty of practice at unlocking padlocks with my hands cuffed behind me but here I had three extra problems. One, I was exhausted; two, I was wearing latex which meant 'feeling' the key into the lock was impossible and it was more just hit and miss; and three, the lock was full of mud, making it even more difficult to insert the key. So a task which would normally take a minute or two took me fifteen, maybe twenty. But at last I had it undone and I was able to stretch my legs. I spent a few minutes getting some life back into my aching limbs before I struggled to my feet and staggered over to the ladder.

I had previously tried climbing the ladder without using my hands just to make sure it was possible, although then I had been wearing trainers, with my hands clasped behind my back, rather than in stiletto platforms with my arms strapped to my side and my wrists handcuffed. So I was a little nervous to say the least as I put my foot on the first rung. The trick was to pretty much lie on the ladder and push myself up with my feet one rung at a time. To my surprise and relief, it turned out to be not much harder in my bondage, although it was a little uncomfortable rubbing my bare breasts against the rungs as I shuffled up. Pretty soon I was at the top and was able to slide off the top of the ladder and throw myself onto the grass, sprawling out and panting for breath. I had escaped!

When I'd had a few minutes rest, I went to the house and into the kitchen. It was four in the afternoon, which meant I'd been at it for at least five hours - my longest-ever session - but it was still far too light for me to go out and retrieve the handcuff keys. I cursed myself for overextending the session, while secretly I was enjoying the thought of the extra time in bondage and discomfort – maybe I'm a masochist too! Now I had several hours to kill and, as I was thoroughly exhausted, a nap seemed a good idea. However, I was filthy and didn't want to mess up the sofa or my bed by lying on them. Instead, I went to the shed in the garden and dragged out the seat cushions for the garden furniture, arranged them on the lawn as best I could, and lay down. Within minutes I was asleep.

When I woke up it was dark. It was a warm, still summer evening and, although I was stiff and aching all over my body, I felt refreshed by my sleep. I decided it was dark enough to risk going up the hill and I set off immediately. At my gate, I crouched down, looking this way and that, listening for the slightest sound. Satisfied no-one was around, I slipped out of the gate and headed along the path towards the ancient monument.

I heard an owl hooting in the trees but not much else. It was an uneventful journey and I found the rock I'd hidden the keys under fairly easily in the dark. Lifting it was rather more difficult than I had anticipated, with my wrists cuffed and arms immobilised, it was almost impossible to get any leverage on it to roll it away. Several times I had to stop to catch my breath and try and think of another way to come at it.

I began to think that, after all I'd had to go through, I was going to fail at the last. I finally got it to move by sitting with my back to the rock, fingers underneath it, with my legs spread and my stilettos digging into the ground. I was able to move it just enough to retrieve the keys and I let out a groan of relief.

I am pretty adept at undoing cuffs behind my back and I soon had them undone. I unbuckled the belts and lay on my back with arms and legs splayed, enjoying the freedom. The first thing I had to do was ease that monstrous plug out of my arse, which was a pain and a relief at the same time. I took off the gag and the shoes, too, to give me some respite. Gathering up my gear, I trotted back down the hill to the house and, once safely inside, stripped off the rubber, eased the vibrator out of my sore pussy, and poured myself a large glass of wine.

Another bondage session successfully completed! This had not only given me many orgasms already, it would be in my dreams for a long time. I was just about to head off to a well-earned soak in a hot bath, when I remembered my note on the table. Picking it up to throw it in the bin, I noticed some extra writing and, with a growing feeling of panic, I read the following:


   Sally,
   Popped over to see you but you were tied up – or was it chained up??! Anyway, see you on Monday as usual if you're free (and even if you're not!).
   Dafne


Oh my God, I thought, I've been found out! I went bright red in embarrassment, even though no-one was there to see. Everyone will know! I'll be a social outcast! I'll lose my job!

As I thought a bit more about it, I cleared my head and realised a number of things – one, she hadn't freaked out when she saw me or when she wrote this note; two, she hadn't interrupted or questioned me at the time; and three, she hadn't freed me.

I thought about her watching me struggle - bound, gagged, in rubber - and a familiar feeling of excitement started to rise. Maybe this wouldn't be the complete catastrophe I'd first thought.

Or maybe I had read it all wrong and she was going to make my life a living hell. The truth turned out to be more bizarre than I could have ever imagined…