Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult

by Jurgen von Stuka

  I convinced my carpenter friend, John, to build a new wall, closing it off completely, telling him that it was wasted space that I didn't need to heat or cool. Reluctantly, thinking me a little weird, John put in a frame and sheet rock on both sides. Once this was completed, the room vanished as far as any observer was concerned. I used my own tools, including a reciprocating saw, which has other perhaps obvious erotic uses, to cut a small trap door in the sheet rock. Then I installed a stock trap door assembly and put a heavy storage rack in front of it. The stainless steel rack has large wheels and is fashionable in kitchen designs these days. It works perfectly. A set of pulleys and springs allows me to pull the rack back into position once I am inside the room. The same simple system will move the rack and allow me to exit. Nothing complicated, and it's more or less foolproof.

  To enter, I wheel the rack back, unlock the trap door and ease through into my private bondage suite. I have heat, air conditioning and light. There is power for AC and DC appliances and a small iron bed that I found in an antique shop. It was necessary to break down the bed to get it into the room, but it was worth it. For BDSM games, alone or with partners, a steel bed frame is a great thing to have.

  With a good deal of planning, I rigged overhead eyebolts that extended up through the rafters and would hold five times my weight. I did the same with several locations on the walls, varying the height and space between the eyes and attached rings. While I first considered hanging permanent chains from some of these rings, I later found it more useful to put the chains or ropes I wanted on the rings of choice for each particular session. The idea of some elaborate suspensions was never far from my mind as I prepared this room for my own entertainment. Besides, if anyone by chance found the room, the specter of chains hanging from the walls would probably freak them out, so I left the room looking bare except for the storage cases and trunks on one wall. It was, for the public, nothing more than a storeroom.

  My favorite position changes from time to time. But best of all, I suppose I like being tied or chained with my arms behind me, elbows together, ankles crossed, tied and pulled up behind me. Add a hood with a gag and I'm ready to go. Add a couple of dildoes in my cunt and ass hole and the sky will soon come crashing down on me and my body turns volcanic as I am awash in endless hot lava that seeps into every pore of my tortured body. I will scream and struggle, twist and vibrate with the heat, letting it engulf me until I am limp and raggedly satiated. Give me fifteen minutes to recover and I want to do it again.

  As to mistakes I've made with SB, they are minuscule compared to my other errors in judgment I can testify to, such as in selecting men friends, selecting a doctor, buying real estate, and so forth. My SB screw-ups usually just cost me time and frustration. For example, I decided that I would like to try using a curved steel hook to complement my other bondage. In appearance, these look non-threatening and the average person probably sees the hook as some sort of garage or garden tool. The way these work is very simple: you have a smooth metal hook made from polished, stainless steel rod of about a quarter to three-eighths inch in diameter or slightly more. It may or may not have a steel ball on one end. The steel ball screws on and usually you can upgrade to a bigger ball if that meets your rectal needs. I went for the smaller ball.

  The other end has a welded ring on it and all you have to do is insert the ball end into your butt, with or without lube and let it slowly find its way into your colon. The hook's curve fits in your butt crack and the straight end of the shaft lies flat against your back. You then tie or connect a rope or chain to the ring on the hook and set up the amount of tension you like. Hook it to a head harness and pull your head back smartly and you will find this clever and simple tool can make your bound life immensely more interesting. I have used this thing quite a bit, but it is tough on the butt hole and not something you might want to have up there all the time. I found that it works best connected to the back of my collar, gag strap, or head harness, but at times I just tie it to my hands, which are bent over my head or tied behind me. As my arms get tired of this onerous position, the tension creeps up and I am fighting to keep from tearing the ass flesh with this monster hook.

  The one thing I didn't pay attention to with the hook was making sure the ball was tightly screwed on. Unless you use a condom, the hook needs to be well cleaned and sterilized after each use. The ball must be removed and cleaned as well. Once, when I thought that I had replaced the ball and screwed it back on, I apparently neglected this little chore and soon discovered that when I removed the hook from my ass the ball was nowhere to be found. It took me awhile to figure out where the ball was and then, as you can imagine, getting it out was lots of fun. The phrase "shitting steel balls" has a familiar ring to it now. One solution to all of this is to simply use a condom over the ball or the end of the hook. This works for sanitation as well as for perhaps avoiding a game of ball retrieval. Some hook versions have no ball and need to be used with more care to avoid puncturing the intestine wall.

  To further confuse anyone who is following this tale, I got really cocky one day while on line and ordered the frontal version of the ass hook. This beauty is intended to go in the front door the same way the ass hook goes into the back. It is slightly thicker, designed in more of a V shape and the ring on the straight end can be attached to your collar or, if you are inventive, any rings you happen to have on your front…such as nipple rings, lip, nose or tongue rings. Rigged properly, you can have a great time with this thing. I have even messed around with both front and back hooks at the same time and this takes a lot of self-control because the buzz is almost immediately brain shattering. However, misuse or carelessness can kill you. These are heavy metal objects and there is no preventive safety in their design. If you put them too far in or in at the wrong angle, you could perforate the soft internal walls of your anus or vagina with disastrous results. So, once again I will say that these hooks cannot be used casually and, under no circumstances should you try them when under the influence of alcohol or medication.

  Okay. The twin impalements. You want to hear how this worked out?

  I attached ropes to both hooks and to a set of close together eye bolts in my living room ceiling. I let them hang low enough so that I could, when ready, step into them…sort of. I tied my legs and ankles together, put a gag in my mouth, fitted a nice wide neck collar with a chain down my back, then slipped the hooks, each covered with a lubricated condom, into their waiting receptacles. They were cold. I mean cold steel, and that didn't help. Patiently, while I waited for the iron inside my ass and cunt to warm up, I adjusted the ropes from overhead, setting the tension so that as I stood there, the double hooks sort of semi-supported me. By the way, the ball was back where it was supposed to be and this lessened the chance of ending up with a perforated intestine, should I put too much strain on the ass hook.

  Comfortable I was not, but went ahead and snapped the hooks on my single cuffs to the ring on the chain down my back. A short little dance, unrehearsed, followed while I tried to get the damned things inside me to cooperate and make me feel good instead of like a chicken hanging in the Chinese restaurant's window. It didn't work. I unhooked my hands, lowered the hooks gingerly and stepped out of the damned things. So much for being a hooker. Not my thing.

  What else is there to say?

  Chapter Four

  Jackie learned about SB from a girl friend.

  Like so many SB fans, the initial experience with BDSM matured into a

  long term fascination with bondage without a partner.

  Here she talks with a gay friend about the gender-switching element in SB.

  Jackie - Mentored

  I somehow managed to fall into the BDSM world in a perfectly normal way: I went, with Sandy, a girl friend, to get the requisite tattoo as soon as I was old enough. Waiting for the artist to start on me, I read an old paperback that told the story of a young man who wanted a sex change and spent a lot of time tying himself up as a woman. Strange as tha
t introduction seems, it got me hooked.

  My parents, as far as I knew, lived a normal, vanilla sex life. At least I never saw or heard anything to the contrary. So, after reading most of the novel, I learned more about self-bondage from Sandy. It was soon apparent that she knew a lot more about the BDSM scene than I will ever know.

  Once, while we sat in a beach bar, she asked me if I wanted to be tied up. I said that I wasn't against the idea, but it would take some patient foreplay to get me into it, I thought. She laughed. Then, she asked me if I had ever tied up anyone. I said I had tried it once or twice, but the guy wasn't into it so we had not continued. She smiled and said that I was her kind of girl. I asked her what she meant by that and she said that she liked to be "kind of hurt" while having sex and that her previous boyfriend had taken advantage of this and often hurt her to the extreme, beyond where she wanted to be and so she dumped him.

  "What's that got to do with me?" I asked her.

  "Knowing how far to go and respecting the partner's limits is, Jackie, the right way to go," she said.

  Then she asked me if I would like to learn about bondage. I guess I just shrugged. I was too busy watching the hunks with their surfboards to get serious about being tied up. But all of a sudden, she downed her Mojito in one swallow, leaned over and whispered into my ear: "Well, honey, come home with me and tonight I'll tie you up and fuck your brains out."

  I was a bit put off by her aggressiveness, but I liked her a lot as a friend and as a companion who shared a lot of my interests. Besides, neither of us was dating anyone seriously at the time and even the one-night stands we both had now and then were not especially rewarding. I had not, thus far in the relationship, considered having girl/girl sex with her, but the idea was appealing at that moment. She was very attractive, well proportioned and had medium long, light brown hair. Based on the bikini she usually wore to the beach and her skimpy underwear, I knew she was in good shape and had all of the right female parts. Because I had once made the error of getting involved with a girl who was not altogether female, I was extremely conscious of this issue.

  "Okay. Let's just see what develops," I said.

  "Right," she replied. "So let's not get too bombed beforehand, okay?"

  I agreed and that night at her luxury apartment on the beach, she tied me to her futon with my hands over my head to one end and my ankles to the other end. She stretched me out on this beautiful brocade quilt, took off my panties and stuffed them into my mouth and tied them there with my bra. I was astonished, but I was also inexplicably turned on and wondering what I might have gotten myself into. True to her word, she had a collection of strap-ons and fake cocks that she used with abandon. We fucked madly for hours that night.

  She let me "refuel" after each time and we took breaks for a drink every now and then. One position that I wish I could repeat was with me tied on my back and she sitting astride my hips with a double-ended dildo cock strapped around my waist and the fake cock alternating in and out of her ass and cunt. She was in total control, reaching down to get the right angle she wanted from me and putting clothespins on my nipples and thighs. I was star struck. I chewed right through the gag and yelled loud enough for someone in the apartment complex to tell us to shut up. The feelings were beyond anything I had imagined and she was having a great time. So I learned quite a bit from Sandy.

  However, what this did for my long term erotic life was even more significant. As I started looking for a real job after college, I discovered that many women were not only violently opposed to anything having to do with BDSM, but also saw it as some kind of conspiracy to entrap and exploit women. I learned that if I asked my date or a new girl friend, even subtly, about this kind of sexual experience, they might, and often instantly did, terminate an otherwise active and pleasant relationship. Often, the gender question seemed to pop up and more than one woman I had become good friends with at work asked me outright if I was gay.

  So, I kept my mouth shut and started experimenting on my own. I figured that I could emulate what I had experienced with Sandy and get the same effects. In time, that proved to be true and in the process, I learned more about auto-erotic bondage through the internet and some books. I discovered, for example, that the SB element was often buried within the overall S&M scene. To me, that meant that to get in, I had to penetrate both layers of the society without stumbling into something that I did not want.

  I am not homophobic. I have enough gay male and female friends to accept and understand their interests. But, in the process of seeking to learn more about self-bondage, it is apparently quite normal to become entangled with the gay lifestyle. So, one evening while having a drink in a local bar with Nick, a gay man I worked with and respected, I diplomatically asked him if he knew anything about BDSM. I was surprised when he just laughed.

  "Of course, Jackie," he said, ordering another round for us. "What do you want to know?"

  So, I told him about the book in the tattoo artist's studio and the later experience with Sandy. He listened carefully, asked a few questions and then wrote down some web site addresses for me.

  "Now, Jackie," he said, sounding a bit tutorial. "You must already know that this is a shadowy landscape. You can be straight and into BDSM. You can be gay and into it or straight and not into it or gay and not into it. There are so many variations that it's really hard to figure out who is doing what to whom and all of those paths are fraught with hazards."

  "I got that impression," I said.

  "Right. But if all you want to do is tie yourself up and fantasize, the only thing I think you need to figure out is, (and this is hard), what your fantasy is while doing it."

  "Huh?" I asked. "I don't follow."

  "Look," he said. "When I beat off alone, I have an image in my mind or I get one from the internet or a magazine or some other source. You with me so far?"

  I nodded, not sure I wanted to get into this with him.

  "Okay. So you are horny and you want to get off and you want to tie yourself up as well. Right?"

  "Yeah. I guess that's right."

  "So, what is the image in your mind?"

  "I don't know," I said rather defensively. "I just strain against the ropes and try to bring myself to orgasm."

  "Okay. Relax, Jackie. I'm not criticizing you. I just want to help you out and you are somewhere in the middle, from what you're telling me," Nick added quietly.

  "Middle of what?" I asked.

  "Let me put a hypothesis forward, like we often have to do in the office. See if this fits."

  "Okay."

  "When you tie yourself up, you have thoughts of having sex, right?"

  "Yes."

  "And maybe those thoughts are of you being tied and a man fucking you, like you have already experienced. You with me so far?"

  "Yes. Sometimes that may be it, but…"

  "But what?"

  "Well, sometimes I think I am fantasizing that I am the woman being fucked and other times I am the man doing the fucking." I think my face actually turned red when I said this. But Nick didn't even blink.

  "Let me tell you that there is a Hell of a lot more of that sort of thinking going on in beds all over the world every night than you can imagine. Relax. It's pretty normal."

  "Really?"

  "Yes. And the funny part is that it crosses gender boundaries. I mean, I often think, wish, that I was a woman getting fucked. It's part of the complication of being gay. Do I want to be a woman? No. emphatically, no, but there is still that venture, that temporary desire to be on the other end of the prick, to put it bluntly."

  "I hadn't thought of that at all," I said, wondering how I got into this conversation, but wanting to know a lot more. "So, you're saying that my wanting to come while I'm tied is in some way related to wanting to be a male? I have a hard time with that, Nick. I can't recall ever thinking that I wanted to be a man."

  "You probably don't want that, except when you're tied up. Hell, I don't know and I am not a shrink, but
I have had this and similar conversations with other straight and gay women and the same thing always seems to emerge. And, for what it's worth, it can be progressive."

  "Progressive?"

  "Well, I can tell you this from first hand experience with a very sweet, very macho guy I had a long affair with. Over time, the self-bondage experience deepens into a gender thing as well. He was not into cross-dressing when we met, but over the weeks, when I tied him up for sex, he became more and more interested in the female role. Of course, he was submissive anyway, so that may have added to it. But consider that, for a gay man, I am not especially into having sex with a woman, but I have done it. In this case, we were lovers and if he wanted me to fuck his ass while he was tied up and dressed as a sexy female, (and he was very sexy, just a bit muscular), it was okay with me."

  "I suspect that could get complicated," I offered, finishing my drink and ordering another.

  "It did. In the final chapter, we both resorted to self-bondage, he as a chick and me as, well, just me, I guess. I never resolved that part of it and that is why I was curious about how you felt."

  "You mean you don't know the answer to your own question?"

  "Right. I think that I still remain fixated on screwing another guy. The female image isn't there, that's all."

  "Nick," I said. "This is just between us, right?"

  "You bet. Just us."

  "Well, can I ask you about men in SB?"