Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult

by Jurgen von Stuka

  The value of high tech equipment in this scene is obvious. I can't imagine the old days when I might have had to browse through magazines, looking for the "trigger" story or photos that would set me off on my own private SB adventure. The visuals and sound from the DVD are far more efficient for what I seek.

  In this hypothetical case, I enter the room dressed in a short, white cotton dress with short sleeves and an elastic waist with a wide studded leather belt over it. Under it, I wear only a pair of white bikini panties and a minute little white lace bra. White hose that come up to the top of my thighs accent the black patent leather high heels on my feet. I have on large, silver hoop earrings but no other jewelry. I have done my make-up quickly, but the eye shadow and lip-gloss give my face an innocent look that will quickly be lost when the gag harness and blindfold or hood are pulled over my face and my tears of desperation ruin the eye shadow and liner.

  Before I can react, someone is behind me with a handful of rope. I am surprised because I didn't think anyone else was in the room. I imagine that they quickly bind my wrists together. Thus tied, I stumble around the room until they get ready for the next part of the scene. I untie my hands and put a long rope around my waist to help create an upper torso rope harness. They pull the rope from my waist up behind my back, slip one end under my left arm, up over my head and behind my neck, then back around the front, under the right arm, across my back again, winding it around and over my chest under my breasts. They make several loops around my body, constricting my chest. The other end of the rope is fixed the same way so that when they finish, I wear a sort of multi-strand rope harness around my chest, squeezing my bra-covered boobs together and forming a neat base of rope for what is to come. In reality, I do this without my hands bound, but that is one of the fascinating elements to SB…I am imagining myself being bound by someone else while I am doing it myself, alone.

  My nipples harden at once, pushing against the light padding in the bra cups and encountering the bits of fine sand and gravel that I put into the cups before this began. This is a self-tantalizing move that I love. The sand rubs my nipples and breasts continuously as I move in resistance and against the restraints. The remaining ends of the chest ropes, knotted on the center of my spine, hang down my back. My hands are once again cruelly pulled up and captured in the rope ends, effectively holding them against my back, below the shoulder blades. I tie the wrists tightly so that I have no motion left in my arms.

  Yes, of course, I set this up so that I can tie it and it takes a few minutes to get it right. The way this is done in reality is to leave enough rope after the chest harness is completed so that the ends hang down and can be twisted and wrapped around my wrists. Once the chest binding is complete, I tie a knot in the remaining ends and then wrap this around my wrists until it is tight. This is not perfect, but it's not permanent anyway. I roll around on the floor, grinding the sand and gravel into my breasts, imagining these two good-looking thugs are playing with me, testing to see exactly what my potential may be for their later plans.

  I struggle and begin to scream and get a rubber ball stuffed into my open mouth. It stretches my jaws wide and fills my mouth with the stale, bitter taste of sponge rubber. My hands are free while I do this, but in my head I am already well bound and helpless at the pleasure of the two men who are threatening me. They force me up onto my knees, cross my ankles and tie them with more rope. They then pull the end of the ankle rope up, forcing me to bend my knees, and slip the end of the rope through the single strand of rope that is behind my neck. This creates a strong and stressful hog-tie and I revel in it, even though they are not yet finished with me

  They use more rope to pull my ankles up closer to my butt and tie them to the multiple strands that cross my back. Tension on these ropes puts more stress on my chest ropes and again, I have to slow down and savor these sensations before I can continue.

  This strict hog-tie is probably my most useful tie and always gets me very hot. I flop around on the floor and lie there, struggling, panting, through my nose. The gag ball is now fully inside my mouth, held there by three or four leather straps that wind around my head and over my face, framing my nose and eyes and making me look like some sort of wide-eyed woman in white, captured and bound by people who want her for bondage games and evil, erotic sex. I can see myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall and this helps almost as much as the DVD.

  Hog-tied, but still dressed, I use the remote to turn on the video and watch as some other poor woman is strung up by her wrists, gagged with strips of cloth stuffed into her mouth and fitted with a spreader bar between her ankles. She too struggles, cries and cannot get free. I can empathize with her. I am waiting for the two men to make their next move and it comes as they pull up my short skirt and pull my bikini panties down around my knees. Now I know why they haven't tied my legs…yet. Another prickly rope goes around my waist and is knotted tightly. I know what is coming now. The dildo with the lubricated condom slides into my cunt without resistance. It goes in smoothly and again the sensation is nearly overwhelming. I am doing this to myself with arms bound behind me and rope around both wrists. I push the dildo in as far as it will go and then search with my fettered hands for the ends of the waist rope. These are pulled down through my butt crack and carefully threaded through the hole in the dildoe's base. Then, I feed them between my legs and up through the front of the waist rope, pulling them tight and driving the dildoe another half inch up into my cunt. I moan into the gag, breathing hard, feeling the entire length of the fake dick seated deep inside me. Now I bring the remaining rope ends back once again through my soaking crotch, take one strand around one side of the deeply imbedded dildoe and one around the other side, framing the end of the rubber dick and pushing my lower lips harder into my pelvis. When finished, the twin rope ends are pulled through the waist rope in back and knotted twice.

  My imaginary captors are enjoying themselves, discussing at length whether or not to try to force another dildo into my ass. To improve their access to the area where they have been working, they push my now sweat-soaked dress up higher under my arms, exposing my bra and nearly freeing my breasts. In the front, they tie connecting ropes between the chest harness rope and the waist rope. When this is pulled tight, I feel the crotch rope cutting further into the space between my legs and forcing the dildo even deeper. The girls on the DVD continue their gag-muffled screams as well.

  I am sweating like a wrestler on TV. The cotton dress, my bra and hose are all salt-sweat-soaked. The men take a bit of pity on me and remove these remaining clothes and underwear, cutting with razors where necessary. Now I am naked except for the ropes and gag harness. I spasm suddenly and tug with my hog-tied legs, trying to straighten them as the first orgasm engulfs me. The men watch and laugh.

  "You'll do well in the torture cellars," one says, running his hands up and down my bare legs, then roping my thighs together just above the knees. "But right now, we'll just check out your equipment…" he adds, rolling me over and tweaking my stone-hard nipples with his calloused fingers. I scream into the gag.

  The hanging girl on the video is screaming too. However, she is as well gagged as I am and very little noise comes out of her rag-stuffed mouth. The three leather-clad women in the set are whipping her now, alternating with a horsewhip and cat, slowly and carefully. She kicks and they stop with the whips and tie her feet to rings mounted on the concrete floor. They stretch her as she whimpers, ineffectively begging for release.

  I am a bit more fortunate, lying in my own cellar of torment. My clothes are gone. I'm hog-tied, gagged and harnessed with a lot of tight rope. The thing in my cunt is driving me mad. The men are laughing and they roll me onto my stomach and then flip a coin for who gets to fuck me first. They remove the knee rope and my legs are forced wide apart. My crossed ankles assist in this. In my head, my hands are still bound high up on my back, but in actuality, I reach out to the side and pick up a second greasy, penis-shaped, rubber dong with a
built-in vibrator and position it into my ass crack. In my head, the fake cock is live and aiming at my ass hole. In reality, the dong is poking at the same entry, slowly forcing itself in as the man on the end of the cock tells me to relax and stop fighting it.

  "I'm going to ream your ass, Honey," he says as he probes harder, the end of the cock pushing aside the four tight strands of rope, easing up against my contracted anal muscle and getting a shallow hold in my rectum. There is still resistance. One side of my brain is telling me that as a tormented captive, I should resist this attempted ass reaming and the other side of my head is telling me to open up the back door and let the vandal in.

  I push. The man thrusts. The slippery goo that I placed on the enveloping condom is enough to allow the thing to gain slightly deeper entry. I continue to moan and try to evade the eventual anal penetration, but of course, my physical efforts are to no avail because my mental processes are begging to be violated.

  The hard rubber thing is now half way up my ass and I am going crazy. There is pain in several places, but it is concentrated around my asshole muscle that continues to tell me that the cock is bigger than the hole and the multiple ropes around the clinched opening are not helping.

  There is nothing I can do to resist. The buzzing combination from cunt cock and ass probe is doing the job and I am seeing lights, flashes, flares, white and yellow strobes going off. There is a roar in my ears as the ass cock suddenly slides in and bottoms out, its base firmly lodged in the crack between my buttocks. The narrow neck near the base of the thing is embraced by the eager-to-close sphincter muscle and the thing is trapped inside, happily buzzing away. I can hear the man behind me now, he is grunting as he thrusts deeper and harder. I hear him and feel the vibrators inside me and they buzz together in a kind of crude rock and roll rhythm that beats inside my abdomen. In my head, I am being mindlessly fucked front and back by these two thugs. Bound naked and gagged on the floor in my own flat, there is nothing I can do but surrender to it. I accept my fate and go off on yet another extended orgasm of pure pain and pleasure, my hands now busy front and back, trailing the loosened ends of rope, the rope around my elbows cutting deeper into my skin and I stretch out my hands to work the double fuckers. I remember that there are still loose rope ends dangling down in front from my breast bondage and I fumble around with one hand and pull one free end down, thread it through my sweaty crotch and through the ring on the end of the butt plug now so deep inside me that I have to probe with wet finger tips to find the hole. The greasy rope finally slips through and I pull it snug, putting more pressure on the plug. I tie it off at the base of my spine and try to get my breath. I am panting like a steam locomotive and must cease all of this activity just to get my breath. Hastily, I wrap the dangling back ropes around my wrists and then just lie there; bound, gagged and doubly impaled. I am well fucked.

  This story of rape and seduction is well-defined in my mind. It is not a casual thing. The video is an accessory. The self-bondage is the facilitator. If I merely introduce two dildoes into my cunt and ass while lying in bed, the effects would not begin to compare to what is going on here on the floor… or can also take place in The Chair.

  The Chair

  The Chair has electronics, which makes it a different sort of B&D site. I can strap my ankles to the chair's sturdy legs, force my naked thighs apart and strap them to the sides of the chair, strap my waist to the chair back and put leather straps around my chest, under and above my breasts. I attach weighs to my nipples and encourage them to swing as I continue the set-up. The small adhesive electrodes can be attached anywhere, but they most often go where my imaginary captors know they will do the most efficient and erotic good: on the insides of my thighs, around my nipples, on my neck, in the tight warm space in my crotch between my asshole and my cunt, and attached to my clit and tongue. These latter attachments are not with adhesive. The electrodes are wired to small, nasty little alligator clips with sharp teeth that dig into the flesh. They hurt. Instantly. Horribly. It took me months to find the strength to resist tearing these spring steel creatures off as soon as they were in place. I eventually settled for a modified version that allows me to set the tension with a small screw, applying just enough grip to hurt, but not to mutilate.

  The electronic controls are automated and the software I use allows almost any safe combination of electrical current to go to these wired on metal contacts. I strap in, making sure all the buckles are tight on every part except my right arm. I wear either my favorite gag harness or one of a dozen hoods that restrict hearing, sight and speech. By touch, I slide my remaining free arm under the slightly loose strap on the right armrest so the strap goes up to the bent elbow. My wrist goes under a wider strap that has just enough space left for my flattened hand to slide under it. When I try to lift my arm, these straps tighten and exert enough pressure to convince me that I am helpless in the chair. I can strain against the leg and body straps without finding any slack. My head is sealed inside the hood; the fat, inflated, short dick gag filling my jaws. I cannot make enough noise to even reach the fish in my aquarium.

  I am ready for the upcoming virtual interrogation and slowly the electrodes begin to send tingling messages to the sweat-soaked skin below them. My salty sweat enhances the electrical contacts and one by one, the electrodes test my endurance. The switches mounted under the armrest allow me to cut or increase the charges sent to my body, and as I bounce about in the chair, the electricity slowly excites every part of me.

  I imagine, from time to time when lucid, that someone who wants secret details from me is interrogating me endlessly. I resist. They will get nothing except sexual responses. In time, a few climaxes later, I am nearly unconscious. Without my input on the switches, the electrodes stop their vicious exercise and finally, I slump limply in the chair, exhausted and too tired to even try to get free. On a good night, I will sleep for several hours. If I awaken and want another dose, I hit the switches and the chair awakens too and punishes me repeatedly. My hooded head lulls about and I make another mental note, wishing that I had fastened another rope to the D ring on the crown of the hood so that my head would be pulled back against the back of The Chair.

  For anyone who has not had similar experiences, this may all seem very complex, strange and remote. But I know that there are enough of us who use this sort of technology and hardware for our own pleasure to know that this is neither odd nor unusual. What is odd is that more of us don't climb out of the closet and talk about it.

  Chapter Nine

  This chapter illustrates some creative variations often encountered with SB.

  In this case, pet collars play an important role in Paula's SB.

  Paula - dog collars

  For me and some of my friends in the B&D scene, the most critical element is having my hands bound. I use a range of materials and gadgets, but in the end, it comes down to hand cuffs and dog collars. No, I am not really into the doggie thing. That is, I do not, as a rule, enjoy playing someone's pet dog, but the tremendous range and variety of dog collars that are available make my private self-bondage sessions most enjoyable.

  Large collars work well not only for a neck restraint, but also, either alone or in combination with other collars. They are great for securing the legs or elbows together. Some have a hole in the buckle pin that allows a small lock to be placed there and increase the illusion of security. I find that the wider the collar, the more effective it is. The narrow, fashion collars for small dogs and cats are impractical as far as I am concerned.

  You asked about a typical session and, while there is nothing typical about the time when I am in self-imposed bondage, I can lay out one scene that is often repeated:

  I dress in whatever suits the rough outline image I have for the moment. Often, this plan is just a sort of kick-off and changes several items during the session. I love getting dressed as I would for a party or dinner out. High, very high, heels are a good place to begin. Thigh-high or stay-up hose, preferably d
ark colored, a pair of comfortable bikini panties or a thong, a push-up bra and perhaps a slinky dress, slip, camisole or even a T-shirt, are the preferred attire. The impact of real stockings and a garter belt is also useful and, if you want, can be substituted for the thigh-highs. One thing I learned a few years ago about garter belts though is that the garters do not, as a rule, hold up very well under this sort of duress. With straps and collars being placed around and over them, the effect may be lost as the hose slip down and you may get a more ravaged look than you planned for.

  Speaking of this, having a large, full-length mirror available can often greatly improve the scenario. Once you are blindfolded, it makes no difference, but if you get off on seeing yourself (or the creature you imagine yourself to be), in the mirror, having one nearby can be very useful. All of this preface clothing doesn't mean that I won't do this totally naked. There are advantages to having no clothing on and I have often found that since I get very warm and overheated in this activity, no clothes are a bonus. Nevertheless, the erotic play can be helped immensely with appropriate clothing and the optional stripping of these garments by the imaginary bad guys or bad girls. This is often a useful addition to the play. If this is part of your scene, you may want to save old underwear just for this purpose or take advantage of special sales to stock up on stockings, panties and bras that will be torn away by your captors. I put a collar, a smaller one, around my ankles and supplement that with another, slightly longer one around my instep, under the heels, holding my feet tightly together. I vary this with longer collars or two put together and then wrap my feet more thoroughly, but the first method works well enough, so how many collars are used is really just a matter of how kinky I feel and how strong I want the bondage to be. I like my legs really immobilized, so another pair of linked collars goes around my legs just below the knee and a wider, doubled set just above the knee. Earlier I mentioned the lack of use for small, narrow collars, but here is where they can be helpful as cinches. I use a thin collar to cinch the wider ones around my legs, making the binding really tight.