Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult

by Jurgen von Stuka

  The next item is a full rubber body suit that must fit over everything else, and this can be almost impossible unless you use an intermediate Lycra body suit as I do. The Lycra suit has all the appropriate openings that the final latex suit has and it goes on more easily. The final rubber suit then goes on without too much trouble. I then put on the double helmet/hood and check my breathing. Completing the outfit is a pair of rubber boots that have six-inch stiletto heels and come to my knees, snugly enclosing my lower legs once the side zips are closed. Rubber gloves, also with long zips, finish the ensemble. Although it is totally unnecessary, I finish up the rubber treatment with black liquid latex on all of the seams, smoothing it out nicely until I appear, in the mirror at least, to be one seamless rubber doll with my waist tightly constricted and my breasts well-emphasized by the custom tailoring of the suit and the bra. Only my eyes remain visible.

  Yes, of course, there are other details. First, as I said, I set up the rack with all of the attachments needed for this particular venture. Normally, I decide whether to have my arms at my side, behind me, or pulled above my head. Each position has its advantages and its particular pleasures. For a time, when I began this, I used steel cuffs and collars, but my newer suits have heavy rubber cuffs built in, so that all I need to do is attach the various hooks and locks to the suit and then activate the electrics that pull the cables taut. The frame has, at present, eight small electric winch motors positioned around its circumference. They can be positioned along the frame as I desire, but this means adjusting the location and length of both the power cords and the control wires, a time-consuming feat. For most use, I position two at the base, where my feet will be, two at the top for either wrists or wrists and head harness and two on either side where I can connect leg, waist or chest restraints. In the nearly perfect situation, I lie on my back, feet pulled to the sides at the bottom of the frame and a series of three graduated spreader bars attached to my ankles, legs just below the knee and again slightly above the knee. Two side winches are cabled to my waist, connected to large, heavy rings mounted and well supported on the wide and heavy rubber combination belt and corset embedded in the suit. If I am up for it, two of the side winches are linked to my permanent nipple rings, which extend through zippered closures on my chest. As a variation here, I can open the zippers, fully expose my breasts, which are already somewhat compressed inside the pen cups of the rubber bra, and attach thick rubber bands to the base of each breast. The effect of this alone is almost overwhelming, but I do it more and more often. Recently, I got the brainstorm of doing both the breast bands around the bases of my breasts and hooking up the nipple rings as well. Now THAT was interesting.

  If possible, I have the side winches also attached to the built in rubber collar on my neck and I save at least one winch at the top for the sturdy D rings mounted at the crown of my rubber helmet/hood. Sometimes, since my hair is now long enough, I pull my pony-tailed hair out through the circular opening in the hood and, with a braided-in ring, attach it to the top winch.

  I have already put a gag of my choice into my mouth, often using the "breather's gag pear" because I am not interested in controlling my air sources or having trouble breathing through the helmet. Once everything is attached and I am comfortable, I make sure that my emergency release switch is fixed near where my hands will be held. The winch motor controller is also mounted near the other hand. (Details about the motors and controller are at the end of this writing, for those who enjoy reading such tech stuff).

  I close the eye coverings on the helmet, reach up and connect my hands to the waiting cables, then press the controller to withdraw the cables into the winches until I am well stretched among the eight winches. If I do this right, my ass levitates slightly off the floor and I am actually suspended from the frame, hanging in mid air, already sweating into my rubber suit. As they say, time stands still. I have no conception with time passing and the combination of mind-and-body fuck is so very strong that at some points it is very difficult for me to focus on what is going on outside the perimeter of the frame.

  As to what fantasies I indulge in while bound, this is difficult to answer. The correct answer is that I see self-restraint as a very private and personal thing. When I am rubber bound, my body and mind are linked to what is happening then and there. I really have no need to extend this into fantasy.

  I am sure that from time to time my mind takes off in some fantasy, but most of the time I am very personally engaged in this rubber/bondage experience. I feel each restraint, savor it, and wonder if I can make it tighter. I mentally debate the efficiency of the internal probes in use at the time and contemplate perhaps a modification or substitution for them. (I have experimented with many different inserts, from weighted metal balls to fully accurate, simulated penises. Some are static and some are very, very excitingly active. I have used both battery and electric powered devices and they all work well; it's just a matter of selecting what I want that day. At times, I have tried other kinds of security, using metal and leather cuffs, chains instead of cables, (they do not work well with winches), and rubber or bungee cords. The present system I have described seems to work best, but there is always room for improvement and more creative approaches.

  Special electric information for those who care.

  The winches are small, low amperage, commercially available motors that operate on UK 220VAC power. They have three operating modes: forward, reverse and release. For emergencies, the release mode disengages the drum from the drive and the cable is free. There is only one speed in forward or reverse. The units are packaged in a small plastic box about 10 cm square and weigh considerably less than a kilo each.

  I run the power and control wires along the frame, securing them with cable ties. The controller is the result of a lot of trial and error test to find a reliable switch that will control all eight motors while I am blind and bound. I now use a lovely single control switch that allows me to easily dial each motor and then use a rocker switch to control the direction. To illustrate this, I dial in motor #1 at my feet, press the accompanying rocker and the cable withdraws onto the drum, pulling my foot towards the motor on the frame. If I hit the release button, all motors instantly release their cables and I can quickly get free. Because there is a small amount of power always going to the winch motors, in the event of a power failure, all motors automatically release.

  Chapter Twenty-Six

  A competitive angle adds excitement

  to a secret group’s activities and one woman demonstrates

  escape from a highly complex and difficult position.

  Gerry - Competition

  I've done the interviews and filled out the questionnaire, but I then thought it might be useful to write a bit about another gathering, somewhat like this one.

  More than one friend of mine has, over the years, wondered out loud about my twice a year disappearances. This is when our little cult gathers in some remote location in privacy and isolation for our SB convocations. Weird as this sounds, it's all on the up and up and nothing illegal or anything like that. We have all taken the pledge of secrecy and we are no different than the Elks or Moose or whatever other secret societies abound throughout the country. We gather and socialize and drink and dine like any other group. We are, of course, a co-ed group and there is a certain amount of "connecting" and "hooking up" going on, but in general we just get together to update each other on things that pertain to our particular fetishes.

  One of the highlights of our meetings is both formal and informal contests in which we can demonstrate our skill and creativity in SB. For outsiders, this would be almost an impossible thing to do, but we all know what is going on and seek to observe and participate from time to time so as to better understand what is happening in The Scene. Recently, we met at a hunting lodge in Canada that we rented for a week. The place is vast and isolated and getting there takes a day or so and means flying to one place, getting a smaller plane to the next place and finally
a chartered plane to the lake at the lodge. It is not cheap. We all work at keeping costs down, but in the end, we don't all always go to every meeting, mostly because of costs. While we have tried other kinds of venues which are less isolated, we have experienced some problems, usually just accidents, which hurt the overall theme and intent of the session, so we have sought more and more isolated locations.

  The contest I mentioned is really just a demonstration of one or more of us showing off our personal SB tastes and skills. We do this at the luncheons and dinners, with the most formal and fascinating demos usually coming at the last dinner of the meeting. Anyone can volunteer to show off, but we also draw "chances" out of a hat and it is bad form to decline to demo unless there is a really good reason. The hackneyed line about not having your stuff with you doesn't work because no one brings much of their gear with them because of the weight limits on the small planes. So, sooner or later, everyone must do their thing.

  We gather for cocktails in the main room, then move to the dining room for dinner. The cooking and services are provided by ourselves and we alternate. The best cooks get that duty and that leaves the rest of us for serving, clean-up, etc. The lodge is stocked in advance according to our dining committee's specifications.

  During dinner, we review some past experiences and chat about some contemporary issues, such as some communities that are more open than others with the whole erotic fantasy issue. Los Angeles and San Francisco still seem to hold the most open views on all such things, but there remain some pockets of tolerance in other areas. Certainly, every city and state has its groups, many of them quite formal that gather and entertain much as we do. Meanwhile, the chosen demonstrators are putting their little personal shows together. Some chose to use the closets and other revert to their sleeping rooms. We have even had some choose to use a bathroom or part of the kitchen and on special occasions, the lodge's garage and barn have been the sites of personal demos. By the end of dinner, one person from the group makes the rounds, checking on the demos and making sure that they are ready. Then the dinner groups tour the demo sites. This is a fascinating experience, no matter how often you do it. It is both strange and a bit eerie to walk quietly into a room and see someone we know strictly bound and incommunicado. At times, they will use small signs to describe what they set out to accomplish. Usually though, it's just a silent presentation of a man or woman sitting, kneeling, hanging in suspension or on a pole or cross. Sometimes they have music in the background.

  Everyone takes notes and comments, pros and cons are held until later when all demos have been observed. We spend about five minutes with each demonstrator. Then, with a stopwatch running, the tour leader calls "escape" and the demonstrator must release himself or herself. How elegantly and how quickly this is done is noted and rated by the group. Sloppy escapes get low scores. Carefully planned and executed escapes get higher scores, but depending, of course, on how complex the bondage was in the first place. Back in the dining room or living room area, the comments are collected and scores tabulated. There will be no winners, but the overall results are shared by all and we are free to constructively comment on what was demonstrated. If, for example, number three was chained hand and foot to a vertical wooden beam, but failed to securely attach herself, leaving her hands more or less free, a lower score would be given than if she appeared to be totally immobilized and required a time release before freeing herself. If the naked young man in the barn had tied himself so well that he was obviously slowly freezing before he was able to free himself, that would be so noted and also scored low.

  On the other hand, if a very pretty young woman, clad only in a body stocking that nicely displayed not only her nipple and labia rings, but also the plugs up her ass and cunt while she hung in a complicated rope suspension, showed that she could release herself by tugging on a single dangling rope, she not only gets a round of applause from the observers, but also a very high score.

  Here's a recent session I went to:

  Demo number one was a young woman in her early twenties who we all knew because in the past, she had been reluctant to join in the demo party. On this evening, she left the dinner table early in order to get ready for her show. When we next saw her, she was suspended from an overhead chain, her feet a foot off the carpeted floor in the game room. She wore a red rubber hood over her head with a large red ball gag that just barely showed through the mouth hole in front. Over the hood was a black leather gag harness. Her eyes were sealed with a strip of red rubber that fit over the eyeholes and snapped on each side of the hood. So, she was well sealed in above her neck. Her only body attire was a finely made harness, which we later learned was made for her by an expert, retired, saddle-maker in England. The harness was beautifully detailed with smooth curves that fit her lovely body, silver fittings supplemented by stainless steel where strength was needed and imbedded locks that were nearly invisible. What made the harness special was that it incorporated a perfectly functioning arm restraint that held her arms in the prayer position behind her back, with matching straps and buckles at wrists, elbows and biceps. As we studied this beautifully displayed hanging body, each of us wondered how she possibly could have gotten into this rig without help, not to mention how she planned to escape.

  The harness had other features, some of which were evident and some that we only learned about later. Around her chest, the double, silver-studded bands encircled her nicely formed, somewhat conical breasts with X bands crossing the plumb mounds and a small silver-ringed hole in the center where the bands met, showing a ripe, pink nipple caught in the silver circle. Subtle, but very nice.

  From the chest bands, vertical straps went down, crossed her belly and joined a single slightly wider band around her hips. This hip strap was perfectly molded to match her curves and then plunged into her bare apex to disappear between her closely strapped thighs. The narrow, studded strap emerged in the rear at the base of her spine where it again joined the hip belt and then continued up to the chest bands, making a full body harness of the highest caliber. What was between her legs attached to the crotch band, we could only guess, but her ardent struggles and irregular breathing through the hood seemed to indicate that something was active inside her belly and it wasn't indigestion from the rubber chicken we had for dinner.

  Four thin, silver-adorned straps extended downward from the hip band, much like suspenders for stockings, but these linked up with wide leather bands that tightly encircled her upper and lower thighs, another below her knees and yet another at her ankles. She wore no footwear, but her large toes were neatly bound with a small silver cuff that linked to a sliver chain extending down to a ring and weight on the floor.

  There was no question in any observer's mind that this was an excellent bondage display. However, we were all mentally and candidly remarking that it was disqualifying because, as we all could see, getting out of it would be impossible…not to mention that there appeared to be no way she could have gotten herself into this situation in the first place without some help.

  Did I mention that she was gagged and blindfolded? Well, she was. And she hung there, shivering and shaking as the invisible forces nestled in her abdomen took their toll. We all watched for the requisite period and then, when suddenly the timekeeper rang the escape bell, we all anxiously stared at her naked, sweat-covered form, knowing in our hearts that she could not possibly escape, but wondering exactly what would happen next.

  It is required that if the contestant does not escape in two minutes, assistance would be rendered, requested or not, so we were all anxious to help her out, but we waited as the seconds ticked by. At the one-minute point, the girl seemed to do something with her hands. She groaned loudly into the gag from the effort and then, as she slowly pivoted on the end of the suspension chain, she showed us her freed hands. She reached down and touched the harness belt at her waist and, holding onto her overhead chain, released her legs and elegantly slid down to the floor.

  The body harness rema
ined intact, still snug around her body, her nipples tensed in the silver rings, her waist and crotch still embraced by the rest of the harness. A ripple of hesitant applause began and turned into a flood of cheers and whistles as she bowed and then did a ballet dancer's graceful leap back behind the curtains.

  Later, she showed us the beautiful harness and told us that she asked her saddle-maker to join with her and a magician friend to design the quick escape mechanism that released her hands, arms and feet.

  "He did a super job the first time," she told us. "But I wanted something foolproof, so they went back to the drawing board and came up with what you just saw. It is mostly springs and metal interwoven with the leatherwork. The silver decoration is really camouflage for the mechanisms. There are tiny cables linking all of the key parts and they must be adjusted carefully before I put it on. The release works in reverse when I place my arms into the prayer position. That is, I put my hands up against my shoulder blades, making certain that my arms are properly positioned, and squeeze one release that closes the bands around my wrists, biceps and arms." She showed us how it worked.

  "Then, when I want to get free, I squeeze this little spring clip here and the three bands unlock, springing open like the cuff of a manacle or shackle. The leg clamps work the same way. All springs and slight of hand," she happily added.

  Her stunned audience applauded once again and we adjourned for cognac and coffee.

  Chapter Twenty-Seven

  This is an especially vivid narrative of both the actual bondage and the fantasy script that Lynn played in her head. Although such an experience is apparently common, her details make the story particularly interesting.

  Lynn - A Typical SB Scenario

  They chained me in a tiny cell, took away all of my clothes and jewelry, put a disgusting rubber gag in my mouth and slammed the door shut. I heard the bolts close. The light went out and that was just the beginning.