I’m probably the most accomplished submissive self-bondage practitioner wearing a harness gag today. If you consider that mere idle bragging, I invite you check out my literature gallery and see for yourself. Alternatively, I can give you some references of friends and fellow Deviant Art kinksters who have had remote sessions with me. And let’s face it, the mere fact that I can host remote controlled self-bondage sessions for anyone with a internet access already puts me on a pedestal. That, or inescapably tied ONTO the pedestal. Tee hee!
But I’m not ONLY writing this to brag about how freaking amazing I am at self-bondage (and bondage escape as well). I’m also going to turn on the “way back machine” for story time about back when I was still figuring bondage shit out. Not all the way back to jump ropes and plastic handcuffs. More like Senior Year of high school. We’ll say I was 18 just to make sure I don’t run afoul of any decency censors here on the website.
So, by this point, I was working with slip knots. I’d figured out how to tie my rope loops so that I could pinch the rope with my fingers and pull against it and with the free end of the rope tethered/anchored to a piece of furniture or something, the knot would slid down the rope toward my wrists and tighten the loops up. Once I got my loops kinda tight but not super tight, I could kind of “wind” one wrist while keeping the other one stationary. This had a truly fabulous double benefit. The first was turning my oval-shaped rope restraints into a MUCH more restrictive “figure 8.” The second was that the tether line wrapped around the “x” of the figure 8, which was also where the slip knot happened to be. This turned the tether into a cinch rope AND it locked the slip knot in the tightened position.
With this method semi-perfected, I could tie my hands behind me back in a few different locations (small of the back, down by my ass, up toward my shoulder blades) all depending on where the tether was anchored. Once I locked the figure 8 in place, I could struggle as hard as I wanted and it didn’t matter. My wrists were virtually welded palm to palm. I couldn’t twist them against the rough ropes I was using, much less slip a hand out and get free.
But fear not, the slip knot (see what I did there!?). Once I’d worn my little bondage slut self out, all I had to do was “unwind” my wrists in the opposite direction and the cinch rope/tether was release and the “pinched” figure 8 turned back into a tight oval and I could pull a hand out. Sometimes with some effort since the struggling tended to tighten things up a bit more. But I was never at any risk of getting stuck.
Y’all, I had MANY a teenage orgasm grinding on my bedroom floor in a sense of euphoric damsel helplessness. Sorry. Not sorry! ( @Rob66 )
But believe it or not, my appetite for thrill eventually grew beyond this amazing advancement in self-bondage masturbation. I needed more. And not toys either. Not yet at least. The toys would come. And, YES, I realize I just said “come/cum.” Dirty birdies. But I’m not talking about that right now. What I wanted was something else. Something I saw in the movies and TV shows that got me hooked on bondage in the first place but that I couldn’t duplicate.
I wanted peril.
Or at least a sense of peril greater than the fear of being discovered. A fear that I was careful to mitigate by ONLY tying myself up when I was sure nobody would be home for hours and hours. Nope. Not what I craved. I wanted the damsel peril like Lois Lane being used as bait to trap Superman. And that kind of thrill was going to require the use of a force far greater than me pulling on a slip knot. I was going to harness the power of gravity!
Check out this awesome picture by @jonut21 !! This picture is part of wonderful little story involving some of my favorite bondage peril themes. I LOVE this story and the artist who created it. But the image, standing alone from the story, is ALSO a really freaking close approximation of the next evolution of self-bondage I would use. And THAT is what I’m writing about here and now.
Do Y’all want a third person narrative or a first person account? I know what Katie Blake would vote for, and her stories are a ton better than mine, so what the heck. First person it is.
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“Don’t get cold feet now, Tina. You’ve been waiting for three weeks for Mom and Dad to go on Jeremy’s college orientation trip. You’ve got the whole weekend. It’s going to be spectacular.”
I forced a smile but I’m nervous. My bondage has been in a bit of rut. I need something to spice things up. If this doesn’t work, I might have to actually start making more obvious hints to Derek that I want him to try some kinky shit on me. And I swear to God, it’s 50/50 he’d be freaked the fuck out and then I’d be right where I am now AND with no boyfriend. So that’s going to be a last resort.
The mattress felt firmer than usual. How is this old thing saggy as a hammock all year and now that I’m going to be dangling over the edge of it, everything changes?
“It’s all in your head Tina. You measured everything right. The ropes are perfect. Trust yourself.”
Of course I don’t trust myself so I go through the mental checklist anyway. Ankles, knees, thighs, wrists and elbows, all in loops, all cinches are tethered to the frame on the other side of the bed. It’s 18 inches from the frame, up to the top of the mattress, 48 inches across the mattress, then 18 more inches to the bed frame on “my side” of the bed where I’ll be landing when I roll off the mattress like a crazy person.
“You aren’t a crazy person.” I’m totally a crazy person. This is stupid as fuck. But now my third person narration is arguing with my first person story telling so clearly I’ve got issues.
I’ll be flat against the frame but I’m three dimensional so the cinch ropes will need to be able to reach me four inches away from the base of the bed. That was four extra inches. However, the mattress is going to give a little on both edges where the tethers will sink into it. That’s about two inches on each side, erasing the four inches. But, I also need the cinch ropes to actually pull out slack, so they need to “catch” two or three inches before I land on the floor. So that’s minus three inches. I did all of that math and reviewed it and checked my numbers 50 times. 61 inch long tether/cinch ropes from where they are attached to me to where they’re anchored on the bed frame on the other side of the bed.
“Last change to back out, Marty-Jo.” Of course I’m not backing out. I know this perfectly well. I tie a rolled up t-shirt over my eyes for a blindfold. I fill my mouth with a new, out-of-the-package pair of gym socks. And then I tie a cleave gag with another thin t-shirt to hold it in place. My mouth is salivating like crazy. And I’m warm and chilly all at the same time. Sexual tension is hard to process when you’re an inexperienced teenager experimenting with BDSM…
Although you wouldn’t know if from my grades, I’m pretty dang smart. I don’t just flop off the bed and crash on the floor. THAT would have sucked. I also don’t slide my legs off first because then my upper half would have to crash. Better than a full Shamu swan dive, but still not ideal. Nope. Instead, I slide my head and chest over the edge I can feel but not see. I clench my legs and my ass and fold at my waist and allow my torso to inch on down. Just as I’m starting to feel gravity pulling me for a fall, my forehead contacts the ground. It doesn’t feel great to be partially holding my body weight on my forehead, but at least I made a gentle landing. Now for the “not so gentle” part. I lift my head “up” and arch my back sliding my chest forward. This causes my hips and legs to be pulled right off of the bed. I use my lower back muscles to break slow my drop as much as possible but that ain’t much. My pelvis thuds onto the floor in basically the exact middle of the length of my bed. My chest also lands on the floor but it was more of a “rolling” onto the floor since my upper body was already most of the way down. I am surprised when my legs do NOT crash on the floor but are instead caught by the tethers. My thighs settle on the ground. But my knees dangle just barely above the surface. My ankles are several inches in the air.
“Guess the loops need to cinch a little more so that I’ll settle completely.”
My contemplation is quickly replaced with glee about my situation. Arms tight and getting tighter as the cinches get cinched? Check! Small struggles getting resisted by multiple tethers pulling in different directions? Check! Blind fold and gag holding? I shake my head hard and send a spray of wetness from my quickly-becoming-soaked gag. CHECK!
“This is fucking AWESOME!” I feel so helpless.
I try to drag myself forward in the direction my blinded eyes cannot see, but my bare feet are held fast by the long tether. I try to shimmy backwards toward the foot of the bed to gain some slack my but unexpectedly strapedo’d arms are tethered diagonally up and toward the front of the bed, resisting my attempts to reverse. I shake my shoulders and flex my arms and pull as hard as I can. My bound arms are pulled down an inch closer to my back, still in a partial strapedo, and that inch is an inch more tightness in my cinches. I actually wince a bit from the bite into my wrists and arch my back a tad to relieve some of the tension on them.
“OK Kylie, time to save Camelot. But first, you have to escape this trap!” I giggle to myself as I imagine my first bondage crush from the movie Quest for Camelot and recall how she struggled in her own bondage predicament in the back of a wagon. She managed to escape, but she used an enchanted wood axe. “Lucky bitch had an enchanted wood axe! And she wasn’t tethered down to a huge piece of furniture.”
My unexpected state of semi-suspension was upping the thrill level for me. And I stop talking to myself and just start rolling my hips into the carpet. Before long, I’m on the right place.
“Mmmmmmmmmm…”
You know it’s good when the ‘clench’ muscles of your vagina take over and start squeezing around an imagined phallus. Mine are squeezing and my wetness is being forced out into my panties.
“Oooohhhh…”
“My moan and my groin are getting sloppy. My hands are alternating between grasping the tether line hard and opening up wide depending on where my climax building sensations are cycled. I’m close. I feel the need to shift myself a little to get more pressure in the right place, but when I try to move I feel the ropes catch me and actually slide me back the other way. And sense of being overpowered REALLY gets me going.
“Ohh…ohhhh….goooddd….ha…hahhhh….ahhhhhhhhh…”
This is panting stage of things. And I usually climb over it by thrashing. So I thrash my shoulders and hips in opposing direction but I’m prevented from getting very far by the bed and the fully stretch tethers. My legs feel like they’re in a cocoon. My arms are pinned so hard against each other. The strain on my shoulder being pulled up behind me is a delicious painful thrill. It’s new and wonderful.
“More….it’s so much…oh goooddd. Oh fuck! Hyaaaaaaaa…”
Somehow I’m bucking now. I can’t lower my feet to push my hips up to grind but I can lift my torso higher off the floor with my back which pushed my weight down and centered on my completely excited privates. I’m hyper sensitive. My nipples have smelled up like rock hard cherries. I can feel a pulse in each of them. My head is throbbing from increase blood flow and every pulse is beating harder due to the tight ropes all over my body.
“Yessss…ahh..ggoooddd…yeaaa…ooooooooo…haaa..haa.haa.haaaa…yyyyssssssssssss….aoooooooo…mmmmmmmmmm.”
I’m quivering. Trembling. I can’t stand the shaking. My breathing is rapid and shallow. And I feel the strongest urge to curl up and hug myself hard while the aftershocks leave my body. Of course I can’t. I’m stretched out. Taught. Exposed on the hard floor. I’m in the simulated peril I’ve desired. More than desired. Craved. Needed, really. I’m just taking everything in and learning what I am with no understanding of why or what I’m supposed to do with it.
I just know that I want it again. I want more. And I wonder if this is how an addict feels after their first hit.
“Time to get out, girl. You need to fix the tethers.”
That thought was right on the money. Why were my ankles and arms held up higher than I’d planned? While I’m considering, I’m struggling to get onto my knees so I can get my wrists un-cinched. But I can’t. I can’t pull my knees “in” because my ankles are still being pulled up and back by the tether.
“Fine. I’ll lift my hips up by pushing my forehead down into the ground like how I lowered myself.”
Fuck. That isn’t working. I need to push my hips back to raise them up and with my arms strapedo’d up and forward toward the head of the bed, I can’t slide ‘down’ at all. I suddenly became aware of how tight everything had gotten from my struggling. Loops that were overlapped had slipped into place beside each other and tightened. The cinches and closed their circles pinching the loops into more form fitting rope-made manacles.
“Holy shit, I’m stuck.” This is the very moment that being blindfolded suddenly made me panic. I’m practically naked. I’m totally alone. I can’t move. I can’t control anything. I can’t even see. I can’t even yell for help.
Struggling for fun can be vigorous. But now I was actually scared. And I struggled like it was life and death. I was sure I could break a tether or overpower a loop enough to pull a hand out if I REALLY gave it everything. So I threw everything I had into it. I thrashed. I crashed. I cried. I couldn’t get out. I couldn’t move the bed. I couldn’t break the ropes. I couldn’t get out.
“What am I gonna do??”