Oh, and kids, don't try this at home. We're what you call experts.
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Cheryl Lane finally arrived home, Friday evening, after fighting traffic all the way in. It was always like that on rainy days: it seemed that there were always twice as many cars on the road and they all seemed to have agreed to gridlock every road on the map. And Fridays were even worse.
She unlocked the door, and before entering, checked the mail. Junk... as usual. At least there were no bills, she thought. She hung her purse up on the hook near the door, put her raincoat to dry on the coat rack, kicked off her pumps, and went to the kitchen. On the way, she saw that there were two messages on her answering machine. Later, she thought.
Cheryl needed to relax, to evacuate the aggravations of the day, of the week. And for her, there was one very effective way to accomplish that.
She slowly ate the salad she prepared for herself, taking that time to think about what kind of diabolical predicament she could put herself in. She always found strict self-bondage and self-torment extremely effective at cleansing her soul of negative thoughts and feelings. It was as if the tight bonds squeezed the unhealthy ideas out of her. Cheryl was particularly exasperated that Friday evening, and she decided that the end justified the means.
She always had at least one small block of ice, ready to use whenever the need arose. She had already calibrated several different sizes, to obtain different delay times to release the key. She used a stocking with the ice inside it, and when the ice melted, the weight dropped, pulling a quick-release hook, allowing the key to swing on a string, down to where she would be able to reach it, or at least grab the string and reel the key in.
She finished her salad, cleaned the few dishes she used, and set out to put her plan to work.
She went to the second bedroom, which she had turned into a veritable chamber of torment. She took out every single piece of bondage gear she had, and laid it out neatly on the wheeled table, almost like surgical instruments. As she placed each item on the table, her mind worked on how that particular item would be used to bind, pin, gag, contort or otherwise immobilize her. She put away those she figured she wouldn't need.
Cheryl looked at the lined up equipment, and thought for a few seconds, a long, glossy red fingernail touching her perfectly painted lips. One corner of her mouth turned upward, and she rearranged a few of the items in the line, to put them in the exact order she wanted. Her heart was already racing at the prospect of what was coming.
She then took out the stimulation equipment. A vibrating dildo on an intermittent circuit that randomly turned itself on and off. A small bucket to collect the melt water from the ice that held the key to her release, to avoid the wet mess that would surely ensue, in addition to receiving water from a bag suspended nearby. That bucket would be attached to a thin cable that went through a set of pulleys on the wall and ceiling, and down to a pair of rather vicious nipple clamps, the kind that tightened when pulled. As the ice melted, and the water from the bag ran in, there would be more and more weight pulling on her nipples, with the usual effects.
The amount of water was minimal, less than a liter, but her pulley system multiplied the tension at the nipple end of the cable.
There was another random-torment contraption that she had not tried yet (a recent birthday gift from Jennifer). A small box held a battery-powered circuit that fed two wires ending in adhesive electrodes. It was supposed to give a randomly timed jolt to whatever part of her anatomy those electrodes were stuck to. The current was minimal, even if the voltage was high. The instructions were clear about one thing: never, ever put them across the chest. She knew where to put them.
Cheryl went to her bedroom, and removed all her clothes, including the corset she wore every day. She stretched and limbered up, preparing her body and her soul for the unprecedented onslaught that was to come. She put on her tightest corset, and laced it down as far as it would go, squeezing her waist and lower chest. She wriggled as she pulled the laces, trying to get every fraction of an inch out. After some minutes of this struggling, she was satisfied and tied off the laces. Her waist was now cinched down to seventeen and a half inches, and her rib cage, from her breasts down, was pressed into a cone shape. She was blessed with very shapely hips and legs, thanks to her ballerina training, which made the small waist look even tinier.
She put on a latex bra that had holes for her nipples. The shiny black garment shaped her C-sized mounds into nice cone shapes. Her nipples were already betraying her anticipation of the night's intense activities. Next were black stockings with a lace top band, attached to the garters of her corset.
Her boots were masterpieces. Shiny black leather, which she kept in good shape with meticulous care, laced all the way up to the thighs, topping the eight-inch stiletto tipped ballet heels. She really enjoyed wearing those boots, or any of her other ballet-heeled footwear. Cheryl was very nimble on those impossible heels - and loved the sensation of precarious gracefulness they imparted. She had to stop herself from getting ahead of the plan,and put her mind back to business.
Back in her torture chamber, she took all the keys to the padlocks except the one that would bind her wrist cuffs together, and took them to the back porch, where she taped them under the bench.
On her way back in, Cheryl fetched the two ice blocks from the freezer and placed them in a bowl, to carry them back to the room. She stopped at her computer and sent a short e-mail to her friend Jennifer. It was simple and short, and Jennifer would understand it immediately: "Saturday 9 am, usual protocol. Love, Cheryl." That meant call first to check if Cheryl had freed herself, and if there was no answer, come over and get her out of her predicament. Jennifer was another self-bondage practitioner, and had taught Cheryl much of that fine art.
Now she set up the timing device. The smaller ice cube would last no more than an hour, and would cause a weight to swing down and pull a clothespin off a tube leading from the water bag to the bucket. The larger one was calibrated for three hours, and it would cause another weight to swing down and pull the quick-release hook that would drop the key to the padlock on her wrist cuffs within reach.
The last item of preparation was the video camera. She usually filmed every session she did, and kept them all. The best ones she viewed over and over again when she didn't feel right or didn't have the time for bondage. Cheryl kept the other ones to review the mistakes that were made, to find improvements and refinements for the next time that scenario would be repeated.
She started, methodically. Ankle cuffs first, padlocked. Dildo next, then a chastity belt, locked also. Ropes further secured her legs together, first over the ankle cuffs, doubling the bondage there, and both above and below her knees, all tightly cinched off. Another length of rope and she fashioned a Japanese-style breast harness, which she always wore when tying herself up. It allowed all sorts of possibilities for extra immobilization, or just a point of support in case she slipped or passed out.
She double-checked everything before she climbed on the bondage table. In the center was a pad that would push against the small of her back. It could be adjusted with a small air pump, its controls would be out of reach once she had locked her wrist cuffs. There was an inherent safety mechanism in the fact that the air would eventually leak out and the pad would lower ever so slowly, maybe an eighth to a quarter inch per hour.
She stuck the electrodes from the random shocker to her buttocks, on one each cheek. Though she had never tried this toy before, she figured it would probably feel like someone whipping her. She had a shiver up her spine at the thought. A pleasant shiver.
With the loose ends from the rope around her ankles, she tied the latter down to a pair of rings mounted to the table's surface. She tested the arrangement, and found she could still move her ankles. She tightened that before doing the same to her knees. Now Cheryl was forcibly knelt on the table, unable to move her legs at all from the knees down. She was getting aroused already. Control yourself, she thought.
Before continuing, she took the nipple clamps and set them in place. She winced slightly as they took hold on her hard and erect nipples, and had another of those pleasant shivers. She took several deep breaths to calm herself, her packed, tied and clamped bosom heaving rythmically. She looked at the first ice cube, and saw that it was about a third, maybe half way melted. She would have to finish quickly.
She laid back slowly, resting her back on the movable pad. She touched the button that activated the air pump, and the pad rose a bit, giving her more support. She stopped at that point, and started tying ropes from the rings in her chastity belt's waist strap to other rings in the table, leaving some slack. More ropes from her breast harness to more table rings, again, with a bit of slack.
Cheryl reached over and took a four-inch wide posture collar and put it on, tightening it just enough, and locked it. It was also fitted with rings, which she proceeded to attach ropes to them and to yet more rings in the table top. These she tightened more than the ropes to her harness and chastity belt.
Now she took a full-harness ball gag, and put that on. The ball filled her mouth completely, and she bit down on it hard as she tightened the straps as far as they would go, then padlocked the buckles, and secured the harness to rings in her posture collar with more padlocks. Her head was now immobilized. She took another length of rope, attached one end to the ring at the top of her gag harness, and the other to a ring in the table. This rope she also kept short. That harness also had blinders, allowing her to see only straight ahead, like a horse's blinders.
She put on the wrist cuffs and prepared the last padlock. Before locking up completely, Cheryl pressed the control to the air pump again. The pad pushed up higher, arching her back up, tightening the ropes tethering her waist and breast harness to the table. At the same time, the ropes holding her collar and gag harness forced her head back, until she was looking toward the head of the table, her view upside down.
Cheryl felt her breath shortening a bit, and heard the air pump beginning to strain, so she released the inflation button. Now one final act: she turned on the dildo and the random shocker. There would be a slight delay before they actually started, allowing her to make a final check. She could barely see the key hanging from the quick-release, looking down her nose from her contorted position. Her heart was pounding hard, bothin excitement and apprehension, exactly what she sought in her bondage sessions. She reached under her arched back, past the shaft of the pad holding her back up, and brought her wrists together. She deftly maneuvered the padlock into place, and taking a deep breath - as deep as she could laced tight in her corset and in the taut position she was forced into - she clicked the lock closed. A sudden rush filled her. She was now completely helpless, unable to escape the torment that she had herself chosen to inflict.
The wait for the first stimulation was in itself torture. Her heart was racing like a turbine engine at full throttle. Her short breaths made her feel slightly giddy. The shivers up her spine were multiplying in step with her anticipation of the sheer intensity of the upcoming experience. Cheryl had goosepimples all over her body. She tried to squirm and struggle against her bonds, which was futile. If she moved a half inch, it was at the price of some extreme straining. The sensation of utter entrapment stimulated her. Then the dildo kicked in.
Cheryl drew a deep breath, a gasp had she not been solidly silenced by the ball gag tightly secured to her head. Her eyes rolled up into their sockets, and she moaned softly as the sexual tension mounted. Other than the sound of the vibrating dildo, the only other noise she heard was the plink-plink of the melt water dripping into the bucket. That and her own breaths and light circular motions of her pelvis making the corset creak ever so slightly. That creaking was a sound she liked.
She was reaching a state of consciousness that she could only attain in bondage and torment, a kind of euphoria combined with a heightened sense of awareness, like she could feel her surroundings. It was like time slowed down, the water's dripping gradually increasing its spacing. Cheryl was just about to explode in orgasm when the dildo cut out.
Had she not been gagged, the expletive that would have come forth from her lovely lips would have been quite... unladylike. The only sound that was heard was a muffled growl that could not even be spelled. She felt the wetness between her legs, a sure indicator that she was indeed very, very aroused.
Just as she was about to wind down from the accumulated tension, the shocker gave her a slap in the fanny. A muffled but quite clear "OW!!" was heard as she jerked violently within the limits imposed by her strict bonds. It was much more painful than she had anticipated. She cursed at herself for not having tried it before tying herself down irrevocably with those electrodes stuck to her ass. To boot, they were out of reach of her bound wrists. She had some leeway, but it was calculated to allow only reaching for the key when it dropped. Cheryl found herself wishing the ice would melt faster. Then she heard a clank, and the sound of running water.
The nipple torment was beginning in earnest.
She was groaning in pain, her eyes tightly shut, her face contorted, when the shocker struck again. This time, it was a short, shrill squeal, which was fortunately attenuated by the gag, or all the crystal in the house would have shattered. The limited convulsion caused the tension in the nipple-clamp cable to oscillate, tightening the clamps even more. In a corner of her mind, the inevitable question appeared: what have I done? That increased both her sense of arousal and her distress, the latter turning her on even more.
The evening was going to be very, very long.
And indeed, it was interminable. Cheryl squirmed and squirmed against her bonds, either from being stimulated to the edge of orgasm or in a futile attempt to escape her inextricable prison. She whimpered softly and pitifully in her gag, both from the blissful pleasure and the excruciating pain.
All this alternation of tormented distress, bliss and powerful struggling pushed her to the point where it started to self-amplify in a frenzed sexual feedback loop. She felt her mind waver, her senses reel, and after two and a half hours of this torment, she reached her destination: an orgasm of unprecedented intensity, causing her to strain against her bonds harder than ever before as every muscle in her trim, taut body tensed up. The table shook and the ropes creaked with the force of her climax. Her corset also creaked loudly as she inhaled deeply, pressing her ribs and belly into the unyielding armor, and then she roared in her gag, a bone-rattling, gutteral scream that would chill the blood of anyone who chanced to have heard it. The strain was too much for her, and she went limp, in a dead faint.
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Cheryl opened her eyes, and saw a familiar wall. She felt a familar tension in her body. Spittle ran from her mouth past her ears. Sore muscles reminded her of the evening's activity.
She looked down her nose, up at the ceiling. The key had fallen. She must have been out for at least thirty minutes, maybe an hour. But that dream! Such a vivid one that she had never experienced in her life. She stretched against her wrist bonds and managed to grab the key to the padlock. Fumbling blindly under her arched body, she inserted the key in the lock. Oddly, she hesitated before turning it. She almost didn't want to release herself.
Cheryl shook herself back to reality, and turned the key. The padlock came off, and her hands were free. The first order of affairs were the nipple clamps. Her nipples were burning in pain. She waited several seconds after removing them to allow for the reaction to the release. She did well to stay tightly restrained, because she pulled hard against her bonds and screamed loudly in her gag as the blood rushed back into the squeezed flesh.
She then deflated the back post so the ropes pinning her head and shoulders would slacken enough for her to remove them. Even with the air leak, those ropes were still quite taut. After freeing her upper body, she sat up and removed the ropes attaching her belt and legs to the table. She almost forgot the shocker electrodes on her butt. She swung off the table and reached back to pull them off. She found only one, the other was dangling on its wire. That explained why she wasn't awakened. The vibrating dildo was still stuck inside her, under the padlocked chastity belt.
To free herself completely, she had to hobble all the way to the back door and go out on the back porch to retrieve the keys taped to the bench. On her ballet heels and bound legs, it was a tiring trek, but she managed it in less than fifteen minutes, not hurrying to avoid falling over. It was early dawn, which surprised her. She was out for six or seven hours! That explained her sore body, being strained in that position for all that time.
She decided to sit down on her bench for a few minutes to rest. Her mind wandered back to the vivid, realistic dream she experienced while asleep in her tight bonds. The dildo started up again, causing her to gasp and jerk slightly, almost propelling her mind back into the dream world. She tried to keep control, breathing heavily, the air hissing around her ball gag, her chest heaving up and down over her tight corset. Her legs shook from the pleasurable stimulation. She slowly gyrated her hips to accentuate the wonderful feeling inside her. Cheryl decided to remain there until the dildo cut out again before fetching the keys and unlocking herself.
It was ten minutes of sheer bliss. Recovering, she was startled by a soft rubbing against her legs. A trim black cat made a few circuits around her legs, and jumped up on the bench. It seated itself and stared at Cheryl's bound form with a pair of stunning golden eyes. "Wll hlo poothy!" she tried to say through her gag. To avoid spooking the cat, she slowly lowered herself from the bench and stooped to retrieve the keys to the rest of her restraints.
She panicked when she didn't find the keys where she had taped them. "Oh no!" she exclaimed, muffled by the gag. She saw the cat jump off the bench, and slink under the porch. Oh right, she thought. Just like a lot of friends, disappear when the going gets tough. Seconds later, the feline reappeared with a set of keys in its mouth, the tape still attached. They must have fallen through the slits between the boards. The cat deposited them right in front of Cheryl, who was stunned beyond comprehension. She stared at the creature, who just jumped casually back up on the bench and sat back down. The tip of its tail was barely flicking, and it had a very smug look on its face.
She sat back down on the bench and started by releasing her legs, then her gag harness and collar. For a few moments she couldn't close her mouth, so stiff her jaw was. She worked it slowly back into full working order. The cat was intently watching her all through this. Cheryl felt a shiver up her spine, both from the strangeness of the situation and the coolness of the early morning air. She rose and the cat jumped off the bench, and nonchalantly walked away. Cheryl stood there, holding her padlocks and restraints, "Hey, puss!" she called out. It stopped and turned its head around, gazing at Cheryl with its inscrutable golden eyes. She waved the keys at the cat, and said, "Thanks for the help! Drop by once in a while, eh?" The cat stared for a few seconds, and continued its indifferent walk toward the woods at the back of the yard.
Cheryl remained there, watching the woods for a few minutes, before she went back inside to warm up. "That was totally weird..." she muttered. That had to be the strangest safety... creature... ever.
Once inside, she removed the chastity belt and the dildo. She put the stuff aside for cleaning later. Cheryl donned a bathrobe to warm up, and made herself a strong cup of coffee, and ate a little breakfast. She left her corset and other garments on as she sat in her living room to sip her coffee slowly. About halfway through the cup, she fell asleep. She dreamed again, but it wasn't as realistic as earlier.
Cheryl jerked awake with the sound of the phone ringing. She fumbled it off the hook and answered it. "H-hullo?" she said groggily. "Cheryl? Are you okay?" It was Jennifer's voice. It brought her back to full awareness. "Yeah, I'm okay. It was a tough one. And positively weird." "Do you want to come over?" "No. I want to clean up first. Do you want to come over for lunch? We can go shopping after that. I have to get out of the house for a bit." Jennifer's voice seemed more reassured. "That's perfect, Cheryl. I'll be over about noonish. Okay?" "Okay! See you then, Jen."
Cheryl hung up the phone and looked at the time. Just after 9 o'clock, right on time. She had slept another three hours or so. She felt rested, and quite refreshed, though her mind still drifted to the dream she had while bound overnight. The memory of it was quite clear, contrary to most of her dreams where the recollection faded after a few minutes or hours. She could remember every detail of the equipment, the clothing, even the words each person spoke. And especially the sensations. Those were etched permanently in her mind.
Then she remembered the video camera. She rushed, as fast as she could on her ballet heels, to the torture room and saw that the camera had stopped when its memory was full. Quickly, she backed up to the point where she guessed she passed out, and fast forwarded until she found the right place. She watched herself on the camera's built-in screen, tensing and trembling, and she felt herself starting to turn on again. She bit her lower lip in an effort to fight the urges welling up in her. Finally, the gut-chilling scream in her gag, and just as she went limp, the picture flickered a few times, and remained stable. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end.
Cheryl shut the camera off, and started the process of cleaning up and preparing for the day ahead. All the time, she was wondering if she would ever return to that dream world. In the shower, under the soothing hot jets, Cheryl pondered the question, was this the dream world, and the other place, reality?
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Anyone want to know what the dream was?
I was thinking along the lines of some kind of alternate timeline where the Victorian era never ended, but evolved. Lots of tight corsets, but more toys and restraints.
Jenny.
Jenny Evil Fan Club Member
