Inescapable Ball Tie Challenge Part 2
Good evening Y’all! I am so dang tired. Adding sleep deprivation made the challenge way more of mind fucking experience, and I’m sure it’s also making my writing 1000% worse. Let’s see. It’s 6:00 PM on Thursday, now. I’ve been awake since 5:30 AM on Wednesday. That’s 36 ½ hours since I’ve had quality beauty sleep. Not to say I didn’t get any sleep while I was ball tied. Cause I did. It just wasn’t quality. Not even close. It was kind of, in and out of semi-consciousness. Which isn’t much different than I feel now. So, I’m going to hurry up and finish this and get into bed. Check that. I’m taking a shower. Then I’m going to bed.
Here's a link to my lack Ball Tie Challenge. I basically did the same rigging today that I did back in May. Why mess with success, right? Right! https://www.deviantart.com/glynco05/art/Tinas-Inescapable-Balltie-Challenge-1053258240
I’m not going to go back and rewrite all of the rigging. But I will describe the gist of it. My arms were boxtied. Specifically, tight leather belts pinned my arms to my sides just below my shoulders, and just above my elbows. My wrists and forearms were held tight inside sort of a coil made of a good 10 or 12 inches of looped ropes. That coil was cinched up super tight with a strong, thin cord that wrapped twice around the coil lengthwise. The BRILLIANT repurposing of a combat tourniquet by your favorite little subbie (me) pinched the coil super tight around my arms. There was zero slack.
As you recall that tourniquet was anchored to my belt/crotchope, down where I could only reach it during the set-up phase. Once I locked myself into the balltie, my bound hand shifted up my back just below my shoulder blades, so I couldn’t unluck the tourniquet which would unlock the cinch ropes.
My ankles were crossed and strapped together and held right up against my ass. My legs were basically useless for anything but kneeling. Hey, what else should a bondage slave’s legs be used for? OK. Maybe a few other things….anyway. As in the previous balltie, I started out kneeling and leaning way, way back to arch my back so I could reach the tourniquet. Then I reversed and bent forward at my waist and curled up nice and tight so that I could hook my collar ring on the carabiner between my legs. Once I felt the spring snap the carabiner closed, I knew I was locked in and past the point of no return. Everything was cinched. No slack. No range of motion. I was a just a round lump of Tina-like material breathing hard, laying on her side.
Makes you smile thinking about it right? It does me! (yawn)
Now for the accessories. These, I switched up a little from the last time. I used a comfortable, medium sized ball gag. I could still make some noise, but the neighbors are far enough away that I couldn’t have called for help without any gag. Having a rubber-packed mouth is sometimes just about feeling dominated, you know? I used my firearms range grade memory foam ear plugs. I knew I’d be rescued eventually (if I didn’t escape), and I thought it would be cool if I couldn’t hear them coming. And I also wrapped my head with a super long compression bandage. I couldn’t see or hear anything.
Do me a favor. Imagine being in a sensory cocoon like that. Now imagine that you’re also pressed and pulled and held into the tightest little ball you can form. Imagine you want to shift your weight just a bit to get into a more comfortable position, and you can’t. You can’t bend forward. You can’t roll a shoulder back. You can’t rock onto one hip. None of that. Any of those efforts is met by an overpowering resistant counter pressure from one or more ropes, straps or cuffs.
Can you imagine it now? You are sealed up. You’re basically locked into a tiny pocket universe where you are the only thing that exists.
You’re breathing so dang hard from the insane effort it takes to roll over, something an infant can accomplish, and you can’t even hear yourself breath. You can feel your heart thumping inside your compressed ribs. But you can’t hear it. You are as contained in your shroud of sensory blackout and bondage as your life-giving heart in your chest.
Your eyes are held shut but you still search for any kind of light. Anything other than pure, pitch black. But that’s all there is. You roll your eyes around behind your eyelids looking for any sliver of grey that would tell you that the world still exists outside. But there’s nothing.
The hardest things to wrap your mind around is the quiet. You should be able to at least hear your empty stomach growling. You feel it on occasion. But there’s no sound. The sensory foam has molded itself perfectly inside your ear canals and is sealed up against your ear drum. It cannot receive sound waves and translate those vibrations into information that is transmitted to your brain and interpreted as sound. Your ear drum has been taken offline. It’s like you’re watching a TV with the sound turned off. There’s nothing. It’s surreal. You strain to hear, anything. You concentrate. You focus. If you can only focus hard enough, some small noise will find it’s way past the plugs. It has to. But it doesn’t.
Consider it. You open your hands up and close them. You can’t actually reach anything to grasp but at least you can move. That movement is one of the few pieces of information you can receive. You lift your head which feels like it weighs 700 pounds as exhausted as you are. You tilt it about, blind and deaf, hoping you’ll find an angle where light can pierce your wrapped eyes or sound can work its way into your ears. It doesn’t really take long for you to lose all hope of those comforts. Those are things from another life. Another world. You’re alone now. It feels like you’re sinking, and the universe is caving in behind you like sand on the beach filling a hole your just dug. It fills in the space around you. Between your legs. Around your arms. Between your fingers. It washes over you. It covers you and weighs you down. Holds you down right where you are. Makes it so you can’t move and takes away your desire to even try.
That was heavy stuff, right guys? That’s where my head was when I started out. Between the Benadryl and the lack of sleep, I was just loopy.
I mentioned just before I went under that I’d given myself an escape hatch. I set a scissors off in a corner. I used one of my timers to turn on toy that would lift the scissors up off of the ground after 30 minutes. I didn’t think I’d be able to make it that far in 30 minutes with the 90 pounds of weight tied to my ankles. Did I mention that I had two 45-pound plates tied to my ankles? I forget and I don’t feel like scrolling back up. Lol. Shit I’m tired. I got to wrap this up. Fast.
Whenever I got over my plunge into introspective sensory deprivation land, I remembered my mission and started off toward where I thought the scissors were. Using mostly my head and my toes, I could inch forward. It was slow but I thought I might just make it. That was until I exhausted the slack in my tethers to the weights. Lol. Once I hit the first plate, I just stopped in place. I had been lifting up and kind of falling forward an inch. I couldn’t fall forward. I just staying right there.
“OK. I got more than this,” I thought. And I find of lunged or jerked forward. The plate slid and I kind of eased forward that inch. I repeated that two or three times. Then I reached the end of the second weight’s tether, and I was stuck in air again. And this time, the weights did not slide. They stayed stubbornly right where they were.
“Just pull HARD, girl.” But that’s easier said than done. I tried to “throw” myself forward. I actually bounced back an inch. And that defeat was probably the moment of most intense helplessness I had during the experience. I’d just worked so dang hard and maybe covered a foot of ground, and now I couldn’t go another inch. I didn’t know if how long I’d been at it. I couldn’t hear if the toy had turned on, so the scissors might already be out of reach. Not that it mattered because I was clearly not moving from where I was.
Next, I realized that I was struggling with the boxtie. Some kind of minor panic reflex had been triggered. I knew how wellbound I was. Hopelessly bound, really. But there I was pulling away, trying to separate my arms from my sides. Trying to squeeze my hands through that long, form fitting coil of tight rope. I inhaled hard and tasted the rubber ball between my teeth, only receiving a fraction of the oxygen my muscles were craving. I tried to pull my head back away from my knees and found absolutely no give in the straps or the buckle keeping me locked into position. My struggles were instinctive. They lacked any reason. I was like a bondage rookie. I felt a type of nervousness that I haven’t experienced from self-bondage in a long, long time.
And I also began to second guess my backup plan. I hadn’t ACTUALLY verified that Sarah was coming. Let alone determined WHEN she’d be available to come. I thought I knew her schedule, but as a police officer, her schedule is subject to change.
“Maybe I should try to get myself out of this right now…”
Pulling harder wasn’t going to do me any good. It would just wear me out fast. I yawned into my gag and blinked tired eyes behind my blindfold. How long has it ever been? It didn’t seem like long but I couldn’t remember. I remembered hooking the carabiner onto my knee strap. What was after that? I rolled down and over onto my side. I know I rested there for a while. Maybe it’s been longer than I thought.
I suddenly realized I was back to pull against my boxtie and the leg straps again. Hopeless and stupid.
“Just. Relax. Tina.” I needed to calm down. I needed to rest. I was in the perfect place for that too. I was alone in my cocoon universe. The world was empty and still and dark.
-------------------------
I was thirsty. I’m always thirsty when I wake up. Especially when I wake up with a ball gag in my mouth. Next, I noticed that I was sore. And that was unexpected. I’d been sleeping and hadn’t really struggled much. I “looked” around and felt dumb at the futility of the act. There was nothing to see with my eyes closed and wrapped up.
“Where are you, Sarah?” I asked myself, not knowing if she was “late” of not. My best guess was that it had been 3 hours. Maybe four. But it could have been all night if I was being honest. You lose time so fast when you’re reduced to what I had reduced myself to.
I’m nodding off. And I want to put this out there.
Apologies that this is such an incomplete account, Y’all. Let me quickly fill in a few blanks.
Obviously, I was released. Sarah let me out. This was actually the first time she freed me to my self-bondage. The only other time I failed to escape, Lou rescued me. I think she was a bit nervous for me, but she didn’t act that way. She also apparently chatted with some of y’all. I hope you didn’t tell her any of my secrets. Lol.
It’s late enough now that I’m just going to stay up until my normal bedtime. I need to reflect more on this, though. I had a lot of different feelings flooding my head, and I’m not sure what to make of them all. I found myself in a physical state that I haven’t felt in bondage before. I felt positively feeble. I felt defeated almost before I started. I know I was set up to lose this one. So why am I surprised had how thoroughly beaten I was?
I don’t get it.
There is one thing. And I don’t like stating this. I don’t like admitting it. Something important was missing. No, not a vibrator. Lol. Something else. A voice maybe. Or a presence. A command. This session was a task, for sure. I was compelled to do this. But I still felt disconnected. I did it for the challenge of doing it, but it didn’t feel like it was in service to something. It was empty calories. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just tired. (Yawn). Anyway, love y’all. Good night. XOXOX.