Originally published in Bondage Life, No. 11, April 1982

Scanned and Transcribed by guardian46w

Dear Harmony,

Was so excited to see my letter in Bondage Life Number 9 and was even more excited to see it was so well received. I sincerely apologize (especially to the man in Switzerland) for not finishing my story. I just haven't had the time to write. How awful of me to leave everyone in suspense. Here is what happened.

As you remember, I had tied myself up with ropes and handcuffs and couldn't get loose. I had gone too far and locked my wrists tight behind my back. I had my ankles, knees, and arms tightly bound with clothesline. I was gagged so tight I could hardly make a sound. I wish I was a better writer so I could describe the feeling. I was worried sick about how to get loose and at the same time in such a state of excitement I could hardly stand it. At first excitement overtook the worry. It felt so good, I didn't care if I ever got loose. I struggled against the bonds squirming in ecstasy. I reached several peaks of excitement. Each one left me spent laying there in the embrace of the ropes too tired to move.

As the afternoon wore on, I became more worried and less excited. My wrists were becoming sore in the cuffs. Try as I might I couldn't unlock them. I began to perspire in my warm suit and tight girdle. I decided that panic was not going to help matters. I tried to get comfortable and think, but trussed like I was, that wasn't easy. If I lay on my tummy, the rope around my neck would become taut pulling my head down and the line from my waist to my knees wouldn't let me stretch my legs. I was afraid to lie on my cuffed wrists for fear they would become tighter. They were as tight as I could stand already. If I lay on my side with my head on the pillow it didn't feel too bad.

I decided that I would need help to get out of that mess. My only chance was the phone. When it rang, I could knock it off on the floor and make all the noise I could. I worked my gag against the pillow trying to slide it off but it did no good. I lay there like that for over two hours feeling sorry for myself, feeling sorry that I ever thought up that dumb stunt. At 4:35 the phone rang. With great difficulty I was able to kick it off the nightstand, then kick a lamp over. I banged my high heels on the floor and made all the sound I could through my gag. I won't go into what happened next in any great detail because it isn't good memories. It was Betty on the other end of the line. She realized something was wrong and came over and released me. She thought I was really weird. It was the end of our friendship. She was good enough not to tell anyone else about my adventure. I was glad when she left for Virginia a month later.

I learned a lesson from all that I never forgot. Don't get so carried away in self-bondage that you can't get loose. It can be embarrassing. It caused me to lose a good friend. Some people don't seem to understand our common interest.

I had a bad taste in my mouth from my experience. I decided to forget it and never do it again. However, after Betty left, I began to get the urge again. At work I would find myself thinking about being tied up. There was something about going around in those tight uniforms, girdles, and high heeled pumps that made me horny for the ropes. One day I could stand it no longer. As soon as I got home, I took out my toys and strapped myself up like the first time with my hands cuffed in front. I was wearing my raincoat and blue dress gloves. I squirmed around on my bed pulling against the bonds until bedtime. The raincoat felt snug and warm over my blues. The leather strap around my arms held it tight to my body. The cuffs looked even sexier over my blue gloves. I squirmed and bit down on my gag. I couldn't get enough. I would bring myself to a climax then lay there resting in my bonds. About the time I was rested enough to free myself I would get all excited again. After six times I was exhausted. I freed myself and tumbled into bed very satisfied.

After that it become an everyday thing after work. Sometimes I would go to the club but most of the time it was right home and to the toys. I tried new positions. My favorite was to tie myself to a chair. I would rope my knees and ankles to the legs and my arms to the back of the chair. I would tie a rope around my neck to the top of the chair to keep my head straight up. I bound my lower arms to my lap and around the seat and then locked my wrists in the hand-cuffs. On yes—of course I was gagged. In all I was quite helpless. I hung a key for the cuffs on a hook where I could squirm over to it and get them off. I learned my lesson about that. I wanted so much to be tied to a chair with my hands tied behind me but I knew better than to try that again.

I would sometimes sit in the chair like that for hours squirming and biting on my gag. About 90% of the time I tied myself up in my dress blues with or without my raincoat. Sometimes I would get the urge just to wear my panty girdle, bra, nylons, and black high heels. I also felt very sexy wearing a tight grey skirt and a long-sleeved red sweater over my underwear. Dressed like that I could hardly stand not to be tied up.

Well as you can see, I was becoming more and more sexually attracted to bondage. It was getting so bad I couldn't enjoy sex with a man without thinking about being tied up and then it wasn't that good. I was becoming worried that something was wrong with me. I had a much better time by myself with my ropes than with a man, especially when I began to experiment with different sex toys. I think you can guess what those were. My favorite was a battery-powered vibrator. One time while bound and gagged in my favorite chair it brought me to such excitement I almost fainted. I was so weak I could only sit there in my bonds too exhausted to free myself. With my hands cuffed and chained to my lap, I couldn't reach under my raincoat and skirt to turn the damn thing off. I just sat there in the tight embrace of my ropes slumped in the chair unable to move. I closed my eyes and bit down on my gag wanting it to stop. I knew I could get the key and free myself but the will wasn't there. All that thrashing around made the ropes tighter. They hurt so bad and felt so good at the same time. It wasn't long before I got excited all over again. This kept up until the batteries got weak and I could free myself. I have had some wonderful times with bondage since then but I don't think I have ever experienced anything like that before. That went on for about two hours. One time I think I did faint, I'm not sure. I hope I'm not getting too gross but that is the way it happened way back then.

I began to realize that I had to find a man with my interests. How to do that was the problem. I had already lost one friend from my messed-up sex drives and didn't want someone else thinking I was crazy. I wanted to be tied up by a man so bad I couldn't stand it. I would say things to some of my dates about being tied up real casual like but they never responded with anything that said they had that interest. I thought of putting an ad in a certain correspondence magazine that most bondage people in the area seemed to know about. It was sort of an under-ground newspaper. I also thought of answering an ad but was afraid of finding a dangerous nut. No, it had to be someone I knew and trusted.

About a year after this whole thing started, I was ready to give up. My enlistment was about to run out. The thought of going home where women wore jeans and sweatshirts most of the time depressed me. I was 24, nothing in mind as to what to do with my life, so I decided to re-enlist for four years. I was having a pretty good time. One thing about being a woman in the service is there are always plenty of men around. I just knew it would be a matter of time before I found one with my interests. If I got out the chance would be about zero. Like I said I was no Racquel Welch who was every man's dream at the time.

I was given 30 days leave. I went home for two weeks. became bored. and checked into my next duty station early. I was given orders to San Diego. I really loved it there. I look back at it as the city where my luck changed. From the moment I got off the plane I knew this was it. I just knew. I'll never forget the feeling standing there in the terminal waiting for my luggage all dressed up in my blues, hat, high heels, white gloves. with my purse over my shoulder and raincoat over my arm. I knew this was the beginning of a great adventure. I hoped I could spend my four years here. There were other Wavs about but I knew they didn't look as sharp as I did. They had all shortened their skirts and wore lower shoes to keep up with the times. Not I, I decided. I would shorten my skirts a little but I surely didn't want to wear pantyhose. I was a girdle and garter woman all the way and they would have to throw me in the brig to make me give up my high heeled pumps.

At first, I was rather lonely but after about a month I got settled and made new friends. I got an apartment not far from base by myself as I didn't care for the "WAV Cage". I needed more privacy for my games. I bought new uniforms and three new sets of pumps before they went out of style—two navy blue and one shiny black. They had three and one-half inch heels, very sexy. I took in my uniforms tight like the other and cut the skirts off about four inches above the knee just long enough not to expose my garters when I sat down and crossed my legs. I bought a new corset that was very tight and kept me "bound in" and well packed in my tight uniforms. As I checked myself in the mirror one morning before leaving for work decided I was ready for what this town had to offer.

About two weeks later I found out. I noticed a very good-looking man "checking me out" on the bus one morning. I crossed my legs putting my high heel pumps out in the aisle so he could get a good look at my nylon clad legs. When we reached the base, I donned my gloves and did my best wiggle as I departed. I noticed he was there that night on the way home. I made like I was slightly off balance as I slid in the seat opposite him so I could make a great deal out of sticking out my rear end, teetering on high heels. I crossed my legs straightening my tight skirt over my legs and tugged my suit jacket over my hips. I knew he was watching the whole performance. I did my same when I got off at my stop. The whole thing must have worked because the next morning he struck up a conversation and that night he sat down next to me and asked me out to dinner. I told him I should go home first and change to civies but he said I looked just fine that way. Good sign I thought. We had a great time and he asked me to a movie the next night, again suggesting I didn't need to change. That Saturday he asked me to go to the Zoo and the park then have dinner. He seemed pleased that I was in my blues when he picked me up. He had a camera with him and asked if he could take my picture. He shot up 36 pictures of me. Sometimes he would have me pose and other times I would turn around and he would be snapping my picture. This was turning out better than I thought.

We started seeing each other on a regular basis. I wanted him to tie me up so bad. I was afraid to say anything remembering that experience with Betty. I liked him a lot and didn't want to lose him. We started having sex which wasn't that good for me. He enjoyed it so I went along. All I could think about was being his prisoner and being tied up. Finally, I could stand it no more, what the hell all I had to lose was a boyfriend. I devised a plan. I knew he hated my smoking, a habit I couldn't break. It gave me an idea.

One night after a movie he suggested we go to his house and watch television. I said he would just get mad at me for smoking.

"There must be some way I can stop you from doing that," he said.

"Maybe there is," I suggested.

"Yeah, what's that."

'Here goes nothing', I thought. "You could take that big leather belt of yours and tie my hands behind me." It seemed like an hour before he spoke.

"That's not a half bad idea."

Nothing more was said until we reached his driveway. When he shut off the motor, I turned away from him and put my gloved hands behind my back. He didn't do anything. "Well," I said.

"Well what."

"I thought you were going to tie me?"

"You want me to?"

"Sure, it will be like playing cops and robbers."

A jolt went through me as he took off his belt and tied my hands, right one crossed over the left. It wasn't very tight. I would have to show him a few things.

"You better do them tighter than that or I'll get loose."

He pulled it up another notch, taking out all the slack. "How's that?"

"That's fine, now I'm your prisoner." I was so excited I could hardly talk. I slid across the seat under the wheel as best I could in a tight skirt and with bound hands. He took my elbow and led me into the house. I sat down on the couch and crossed my legs.

He turned on the television and sat next to me. "It is nice you not smoking."

"I don't think I can this way." I pulled against the belt to show him.

"That was a real good idea you had; think I'll keep you prisoner the rest of the evening."

I could tell he was getting turned on. "If I'm going to be your prisoner you should tie me up better than this, I bet you have lots of belts to tie me up with. I could get up and run away like this."

"Not when I get done with you, you won't."

He went to his bedroom and began rummaging around in a closet. I got up and ran to the front door making plenty of noise in my heels. When he appeared carrying three belts, I was trying to open the door with my bound hands. He took my elbow and led me back to the couch where he bound my knees, ankles, and bound my arms tight to my side.

'He's learning fast', I thought as he cinched the belts down tight.

"That should hold you."

I was so excited I could hardly talk. My dream come true. I thought I was dreaming. I squirmed against the straps with no luck. He really had me.

"I think I'll leave you to struggle while I go out and get some beer."

"If you leave me, I'll just cry for help."

"Oh, no you won't."

He came back with a torn sheet and a sock. He wound the sheet around the sock and ordered me to open up. He stuffed the wad in my mouth and pulled it tight behind my head tying a knot.

"There, a gagged prisoner is a quiet prisoner."

I struggled and made noises in my gag. I tried to kick him with bound legs but he just stepped back and laughed.

"You asked for it. This was your idea now sit back and enjoy it."

He left, locking the door behind him. Enjoy it I did. What a feeling to be completely helpless. I knew there was no key I could get hold of to get out of this. I squirmed off the couch and onto the floor knocking off my hat. I lay there rolling around in the luxury of my bonds. I bit my gag and tried to spit it out but it was too tight. When he returned, I was in the middle of the floor on my side with my skirt up to my thighs. He took a six-pack out of the sack and some film and flash bulbs.

"Have to have a record of this."

He opened a beer and began photographing me as I struggled. We had quite an evening. He went back to the store three times for film. He undid the straps and tied me to a chair with clothesline. hands tight behind and ankles tied to the legs of the chair. He next photographed me on the bed all bound up and gagged with my hands tied in front. When he finished with the film, we played other games. I won't say what they were or what he made me do to him but I think you can imagine. By the end of the evening we were both spent. I knew my dream had finally come true.

The next day we were dying to see the pictures but didn't know what to do with them. We didn't want the developers to see them. We decided to send them to the largest place we could think of. We figured with the millions of rolls of film they couldn't look at all of them. Whether they did or not we'll never know but they sent back four 36 rolls of color pictures of me bound and gagged.

So, make a long story short, this was the beginning. Bondage became a part of our lives. We were married a year before my enlistment was up. You'll never guess what I wore at the wedding. I was given an early discharge to accompany him to Portland where he was transferred. We have been living there happily ever since. I don't know how many thousand bondage photos we have of me. We never get tired of it.

I wear different outfits now. His favorite is a charcoal grey sharkskin suit I had especially tailored in the style of the fifties only with a shorter tight skirt. I wear a matching derby styled hat and white or black dress gloves; oh yes and of course black high heels. We try to make our pictures form a story. Sometimes I'm all dressed up walking down the street and get dragged into a car where I'm all tied up on the back seat. That picture in the last Bondage Life of the chair advertisement where the cowboy is watching television while his wife is tied up gave us a good idea for our last one. I'm all dressed up in my suit ready for church nagging my husband to go but instead he wants to watch football. He finally has enough and ties me to a chair and gags me. We have hundreds of others.

This brings me to a suggestion to make to you. I think you should do more of this sort of thing with your models. Having a man in the picture is exciting if he's tying up the girl. He could be wearing a mask. You could have kidnap stories or a scene like I just described. How about one where a woman is tied up for the first time like I was. You could do a lot more with what you have. What I could do if I worked for you. Your girls are very beautiful. Maybe I'm just jealous but that's what they look like, professional models being paid to be tied up. That’s why your By the People section is so much more interesting. They look like people in a real situation that got tied up. Hope I didn't hurt your feelings but that is how I (and my husband) feel.

My goodness, how I've rambled. Glad to hear your readers liked my first letter and hope they enjoy this one. Again, sorry for the long delay.

Sincerely, Mrs. B.

Portland, Ore.