“What does he know? You can do what you want,” Jim said easily. “If you feel like you need a job, I support that. If you want to stay at home and play or work here, that's your call.”
“I knew you'd say that. Thanks, hon.”
“So, get back to your story. I'm enjoying this,” Jim said, sliding his chair further back from the table and pointing to the raised front of his trousers.
“I can see that. Damn, you're as horny as I am,” Sandy said, sounding a bit disgusted. “At least you could wait until the juicy part.”
“This is the juicy part,” Jim countered, laughing.
“Oh no, there's lots more. I finally get away from looking at the slut in the mirror and decide that I'm showing a bit too much in the love handle areas so I pull on a latex panty girdle over the panties and this has the necessary garters to holdup the rubber stockings, which are, by the way either too small for me or just too damned tight. They were a bitch to get on.”
“Try it with hairy legs,” Jim laughed.
“Okay. Your point is well taken. So, I go back to the cellar and put on the leg irons and waist chain, hook in my legs and waist and then realize that I have no shoes on. Shit. Stupid. I can't do the girl in the basement thing without high heels, so it was back upstairs to find a decent pair of heels that go with the latex outfit.”
“A real fashion challenge for sure, “Jim said, trying to control his laughter while Sandy looked even more pissed.
“This is serious,” she shouted with false anger. “I was having a bad day. If you had just plunked me in the tub with a water hose and gag for the day, none of this aggravation would have taken place.”
“Right. My error,” Jim said, trying to look contrite.
“So, anyway, time is flying and I have wasted two and a half hours shuttling up and down stairs for stuff. If I had decided to do this in the guest room or the maid's room, it would have been a hell of a lot easier. But the double duty dongs were doing their job with all this sweaty stair climbing and stuff and pretty soon it was time to change the oil, so to speak. So off came the girdle and panties and in go mister and missus big and bigger dong.”
“Mister and Missus what?” Jim laughed, trying hard to keep a straight face.
“You heard me. The initial fake prick set was now not doing more than sliding in and out, so I needed, ah, more substance.”
“Right. Next time I'll remember that, honey. Please continue,” Jim said, by now beyond suppressing a laugh and he chuckled to himself while Sandy continued her “pissed off” act.
“So I put on a nice pair of black shoes with a two inch platform and five inch, maybe six inch heels and the wide straps that go around the ankle. The straps get in the way of the ankle cuffs and I have to loosen the cuffs and then adjust them so that the shoes fit right. I decided to padlock the ankle cuffs close together so that even if I tried, I couldn't kick the shoes off.
“I also wanted to make sure the shoes would stay on…sort of an enforced foot bondage. The best thing for this purpose is a dog collar chain with the rings at each end. I brought the chain under my foot, crossed it over the instep arch, wound it around my ankle below the strap and cuff and locked it in front with another small padlock. Simple. Easy. Secure. Fun!”
“Well done. I like it. So then what?”
“The pulley ropes you already have down there are okay, but I traded a couple of them from some thin chains I had stashed away in an old suitcase and the chains ran through the pulleys mounted on the rafters quite well. I put heavy-duty snap hooks on the ends and set them up so that I could reach them standing as I was between the pulleys. Then there was the arm dilemma.”
“Arm dilemma?”
“Yeah. You know. What do I do with the chick's arms? Do I chain them overhead, which is really an old, too often used cliché, or do I rig it somehow to get her arms behind her and elbows pulled closely together and…still be able to get out later on?”
“Tough call,” said Jim sympathetically. “It's always been almost impossible to find a way to tension the elbows to max proximity in self bondage and still be able to get out of it. Not an easy play.”
“I know, I know, but I figured you'd be home eventually and that would be the worst case, so I set it up, tried it and then, taking a few breaks, found an arrangement that I figured would work.”
“Okay. I want to hear the rest of this, but it's nine thirty and we do have other things to do, you know. Can you encapsulate this tall tale?”
“No. I don't think so. It's just really convoluted. Can I go on now?”
“Please continue,” Jim said, sighing. It sounded like this would be a long tale.
“Here's the set-up I went with. First I put on the latex hood with the internal penis gag. That fits nicely and doesn’t have any lacing to mess with. I left the eye holes open for the moment. Then I put one of your really strict leather head harnesses on over that, which pushed the gag in deeper and makes the whole head feel encumbered. Encumbered? Is that the right word for it?”
“Yes. Encumbered.”
“Anyway, rather than standing up, I figured out that kneeling would work better, so I put a set of the cushions from the work-out room under my knees. Then came the nice, shiny pair of heavy elbow cuffs you bought from that guy in Germany last month. They are very cleverly designed and thus allow considerable flexibility in how they are used. After playing with them a bit, I realized that I could put large rings on each cuff instead of the usual chain. If the connecting chain was arranged properly, running it through the large rings at each cuff instead of actually connecting it to the cuffs, tension on the chain would pull the cuffs together. This was much better than just attaching the connecting chain to the overhead pulley chain alone. When you do that, you are just pulling the combination upward. With the chain sliding through the rings, the elbows are drawn back and kept there as long as there was strain on the chain.”
“I know, I designed it that way,” Jim said. “The same is true for the lace-up back closures of the leather discipline helmets we just got. I always wanted to find some way to increase the tension of the enclosure, AFTER the lacing was done up tight. Placing the rings in the lacing pattern and then attaching them to a rope or chain going up or to the ankles or where ever you want, allows you to tighten the fit nicely. Both of these little additions are of great assistance in self-bondage like you were doing. The best part is that when the tension is removed, they loosen up.
“So I have learned,” Sandy said. “The elbow cuffs fit beautifully just above my elbows and your cleverly conceived adjustable chain between them worked fine. I ran the end of the connection chain through the rings on the cuffs and hooked both ends to one of the pulley chains from overhead. Then I bent my knees, which did exactly what I thought it would: it pulled the elbows closer together. Neat. Now I had to calibrate the pulley chain to get it right, but finally I was able to kneel with my elbows pulled up and very close to touching. With that done, I stood back up and put the Terrible Triple Tees on my nips.”
“You used the Triple Tees?”
“Yep. And boy, I wished almost immediately that I hadn't. Those Terrible Tit Twisters are Hell.”
“I know. That's why I don't use them on you unless I am right there or you want them. Nasty, dangerous little bastards.”
“Right. Horrible. They not only squeezed my nipples, but seemed to be intent upon wrenching them from their attachment to my tits. When you close them, the tiny teeth take a sort of circular grip, actually twisting the flesh. But they were on and I was too close to finishing up, so I just went ahead, closed the eye holes in the hood and locked on the wrist manacles behind my back.” Sandy stopped and sat looking intently at Jim. He stared back at her, wondering what was going on.
“So?” he said finally.
“So? Are you kidding? I had fucked myself royally. Did I mention that the overhead pulley chain from my elbows was connected to my very closely locked feet?”
“No, I don't think
you did,” said Jim quietly, waiting for the bomb to drop.
“Did I happen to mention, as you rushed me a few minutes ago, that I had already linked those wrist manacles to the second pulley chain and that the chain was connected to my already horribly clamped nipples?”
“No. I think you left that part out.”
“So, Mister Fix-it Man, tell me how I got out of it.”
“How you got out of what?”
“How the fuck I got out of the chained, gagged, hooded, dildoe-fucked, ass-plugged, tit-twisted hanging from pulleys in the basement situation, you idiot.”
“Oh,” was all Jim could say for a moment and then he added, “Where were the keys?”
“Oh?” Sandy shrieked. “Oh? Good Christ, Jimmy, I was screwed in the basement and you didn't even know it. I was on my fucking knees, wrapped in rubber, jerking myself silly with the usual double dongs going like crazy and suddenly realized that I was not going to get loose from this situation. It finally dawned on me that you were not going to be home for a long time and that I would probably go nuts before anyone found me because, to answer your question, the keys were well out of reach. I put them next to me on the knee cushions initially, but in the multiple revamps and having to go back upstairs so many times, they somehow got moved over near the wall.”
“Right. Of course,” Jim said. “You screwed up. You broke all the auto-bondage rules and you were in trouble.”
“Yes. Yes. That's it. It just hadn't occurred to me. I was too busy with other crap: running back and forth, up and down the cellar stairs, adjusting the pulley chains, sticking in bigger and fatter dildoes and making sure that the pecker-in-the-mouth gag job was really effective and stopped just about every sound I made. If you had been there, you would have seen it at once: that I was setting myself up for a true NEE, a No Escape Event.”
“Sounds like that,” offered Jim, lighting up a long, thin cigar, sitting back in his leather recliner, turning on the vent fan in the wall and stirring a fresh cup of coffee. “So, are you going to finish?”
“Finish?” Sandy laughed. “I finished about a dozen times. I was so excited, probably by the subconscious knowledge that I was NOT going to get out of it, that I had trouble focusing on a plan of escape.”
“Well, sweetheart, given the situation, I would say that you made the best of it. After all, as long as you were there, why not enjoy the ride, right?”
“Exactly. That's what was going on. The image I had seen in the mirror upstairs was locking in my mind and I was now a prisoner. I lost all sense of time. I was getting dehydrated and my muscles, especially in my thighs and arms, were starting to cramp. After the tenth or twelfth climax, I really slowed down and started to worry. The gag, the rubber hood and the head harness seemed to be getting tighter. I was sweating like a pig. I stank. The dildoes were running out of battery power and you know how that crazes me.”
Jim nodded and blew a perfect blue smoke ring her way. “I know,” he said, watching the ring dissolve as the exhaust fan sucked it through the vent in the wall. “It's the slower, rougher speed that does that. When my favorite butt plug gets that way, it drives me nuts.”
“This,” Sandy suddenly shouted, jumping up and walking over to fan the cigar smoke away from Jim's face, “is not about you. This is MY story. Okay?”
“Okay. Sorry. Please continue. You're giving me a woody.” He laughed.
She sat back down, still fanning cigar smoke. “I was exhausted and getting depressed as I hung there. Visualize this: I had no hearing, speech or sight and my head was tightly sealed in latex and leather, right?”
“Right. I can visualize that.”
“My elbows were pulled up and nearly together by the chain that went to the overhead pulley and then down to my closely chained feet that were raised about a foot off the floor, so I was resting just on my knees, which happened to be locked close together…did I mention that?”
“The knee chains? No, I don’t think you did, but it’s a nice touch. Don't want your thighs flapping around when you're chained like that, do you?” Jim smiled. If there was one thing Sandy didn't have it was fat, flabby thighs. Sandy did not return the smile. She was pissed that he was taking this story so lightly. But before she got started again, Jim added an additional comment, “And I didn't realize that you had set it up with your feet pulled off the floor by the pulley chain to your elbows. Wicked, to say the least. You did one hell of a job.”
“Yes. Yes. You got that right.” Sandy settled back into her story mode.”Elbows and knees very tightly chained together. The only way to ease the tension on my elbows was to raise my feet even higher and that took a lot of effort because of the tit chains, which were linked through the second pulley, and were connected to my hands behind my back. At some point, I managed to bring my feet further up and grabbed the toes of my shoes with my hands. This lessened the tension on my upper arms and elbows, but it solved nothing else and was hell on my nips.”
“I'll bet,” said Jim sympathetically.
Sandy continued as though he hadn't said anything, “When I finally had to let go, my feet went back downward and the elbow chains tightened, shoving my tits out again and stretching the nipples with the damned Triple Tees on them. I yelled and screamed until my voice was shot, but, of course, no one could hear me.”
“Any idea how long you were there?”
“No. Not a clue. I started the crappy plan in the early morning, but by that time, I had no idea how long I had been there.”
“Well, since you are here now and since I didn't release you, how did you get free, if I may be so bold to ask?”
“It was an accident. I had gone limp and dozed off, hanging there in the cellar, so well bound that I would never get free. The keys, by the way, for the locks and cuffs and shackles, as much as I could recall before I put on the hood and stuff, were about four feet away, on the floor to my right, but they might have been a mile because there was no way I could get near them. So, I did what I always do. I went to sleep.”
“Good interim solution. Relax and think it out.”
“Weird as it was, I remember dreaming that I was being kept in some medieval dungeon by a sadistic woman who was intent on my not having her son as a husband. The dream was, as usual, very vivid and I did not wake up until she was swinging her whip. When the whip hit, I screamed and then passed out.”
“Your dreams are always incredible,” Jim offered, still blowing smoke rings.
“The next thing I know, I'm on the floor and my tits are killing me. The Triple Tees were ripping my nipples off and I was not free. But, I was no longer chained to the rafters and, from what I could tell, the pulley chains were laying on top of me.”
“Oh shit. Of course,” Jim said with sudden enthusiasm. “I forgot to finish that job.”
“You left the pulleys so they'd break?”
“No. I just nailed them in place and intended to put in lag bolts later. But when I did the work, I didn't have the correct size bolts, so I nailed the pulleys up there and then forgot about it.”
“Good thing for me.”
“Indeed. Yes. So, finish your story.”
“Well, the first thing I needed to do was find a key for the cuffs on my wrists. I wasn't sure in which direction they might be because the fall had probably repositioned me on the floor. I started to slide around slowly, trying to find the keys and then felt them under my legs, just above the knee chains. That was a good thing. I could have spent hours sliding around the cellar floor like a snake, looking for the ring of keys. At least my arms and legs were now free, I mean, they were extendable. The knee chains and elbow cuffs were still there, but now I had some movement and was able to flex the aching joints.
“Anyway,” Sandy continued. “From there on it was just slow going. My arms and legs were really tired and sore and getting the right key in the right slot took a lot of effort. Once the one wrist cuff came off, I went to work on the elbows. Those new cuffs are really easy to unlock...a lot
easier than the usual handcuffs because the key hole has that little indentation around it, sort of like a countersunk hole, so you just ease the key into the depression and it slides into the lock.”
“That was a special feature I added when they built those cuffs and shackles,” said Jim brightly. “I'm glad it worked out for you. I haven't tried it myself. Yet.”
“So,” continued Sandy, taking a deep breath as though she had just now escaped the basement episode, “I got the elbows free, doing only one cuff for the time being, and then I unlocked the head harness. I pulled it and the hood off and I was so happy that I cried. It was soaking wet and smelled of my shampoo and sweat. Icky! I pried the miserable rubber dick out of my mouth and then just lay there crying, wondering how I had been so dumb.”
“So, was that it?”
“Well, sort of. I was soaked under the rubber stockings and leotard and a lot of fluid had run into the stockings, making them feel like leaky rubber boots. Lying on the floor, they leaked about a quart of body fluids and that was pretty gross. I always forget that latex hose fill up with sweat. It would be smart to put little grommets into the end of the toes so the damned things would drain.”
“Good idea,” said Jim. “I'll drop Heidi an email and make the request that she do this in the next dozen pair we order.”
“You think she'll do that?”
“You bet she will. I think we are probably her best customers and she knows it.”
“Well then, I can cross that issue off my shit list,” laughed Sandy.
“Anything else?”
“The leg chains left deep imprints in my thighs and I am still sore there where they dug in. We need to come up with some sort of spring-loaded cuffs or other system that will give a little in areas of the body that increase in size when flexed…like the biceps and lower thighs.”
“I know. That's something I have been wrestling with for quite awhile. The only present remedy is to set the diameter of the cuff or the chain loop so that it is a bit loose when the arm or leg is extended and tightens up when the joint is bent.”
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