“Don’t mind him, Katy,” Ellen said. “Mention bras and Frank gets a hard on it’s sort of his top fetish. Go on.”
“Well, finally, not wanting to miss any part of the fun, I dragged up an old mirror from the tack room and leaned it against one wall at an angle so that I could see myself once I was in the proper position. The skylights in the roof let in a lot of daylight, so I decided not to turn on the loft lights because it might attract attention if my folks got home before I was finished. I wanted the time to be mine and mine alone.”
“I know the feeling,” Ellen said.
“Me too,” added Frank, grinning. “Did you wear the same kind of bloomers…ah, knickers, I mean?”
“Dirty old man,” Ellen interjected, lightly whacking Frank on the shoulder. “Let her tell her story, Frank. You can get lingerie details later.”
“The panties,” Katy continued, “were vintage Willie, but tighter, cut higher on the sides and not frilly. I hate frilly stuff, so that was a bit of a compromise with the original look. The white lace garter belt was a necessity because I had not been able to find panties with garters on them, so again, I sort of compromised with the original drawings, but from what I could see in the mirror, it looked great. The last item that I took was a Polaroid camera that had the wireless remote accessory and of course, a tripod.”
“Wireless remote?” asked Ellen. “I didn’t know they made such a thing. How did that work?”
“It was the gift from Polaroid to people who wanted private photos of themselves and didn’t want to send film to be processed. It only worked on special camera models and it had a wireless, hand held remote button that fired the camera and flash, ejected the finished photo and reset it for the next picture. They promoted it as being suitable for nature photos and such, but I think a lot of sales went to people like me. So you could take eight photos without having to reset or reload. It wasn’t cheap, but it sure was neat.”
“Wow,” said Frank. “I guess we missed that one.”
“So, anyway,” Patty continued once again, “I set up the tripod and camera so that when I was all ready, I could shoot a few shots for myself. I tucked the remote into the waist band of the panties and garter belt, making sure that it wouldn’t fall out and that I could reach it before I set the final wrist bonds.
“All of this I had brought in my luggage when I went for a visit, hoping for this sort of opportunity. I had plenty of rope, a sharp, fixed blade hunting knife, good gagging materials and two pair of regular hand cuffs, which in the end, thank God, I decided not to use. If I had, I might still be up in that loft. I also had a good supply of chain, some small locks with combinations, not keys, and four or five steel chain dog collars, the kind with the welded rings at the ends. These were in full circle loops using master or repair links to complete the loop, not the slip through the ring arrangement that lets the loop tighten up. The repair or master links always seem to work best for connecting the rings at the ends, but I have tried other things, like small luggage locks and split rings that can be forced if you really pull on them. As you probably know, these repair links have a threaded closure like a karabiner and can be easily opened or secured just by turning the screw locks, as long as you keep them lubricated and don’t tighten them with a wrench or pliers.”
“Sounds like you hauled a lot of stuff around,” Frank commented. “Didn’t your folks wonder why you had so much baggage?”
“No, not really. It all fit in one medium duffle bag and the heavy stuff went into my rucksack. Besides, they, the parents, always traveled heavy too, no matter where they went, (and they traveled a lot). So no one was alarmed when I showed up with extra bags.”
“Okay, sorry to interrupt. Please continue. It’s a good story,” Frank added.
“Oh, it gets better. I tied my ankles with nice, soft but strong, quarter inch, three strand nylon rope, circling around both ankles several times to even out the strain, then cinching it tightly and looping it under the shoes so that they could not be kicked off. I figured that I had the entire day to play, so was in no hurry and did things up very carefully. To complement the ankle rope, I added a short length of chain and two locks. I wound it twice around my bound ankles and secured it with a combination padlock, then locked the other end to a tie down ring mounted in the wooden floor. There were lots of these rings around on the loft floor. They were used to secure tarps to cover bales of hay and straw when they were put up in the loft. I set that chain just tight enough so that when I stood up, the chain pulled tight and my high heels were really kind of riveted to that spot.
“Next, I tied my legs below and just above the knees, again wrapping it several times to form a wide rope band and making sure that the rope was loose enough to allow for a good cinch and the possibility that I might want to kneel later on. I used another length around the tops of my thighs, just below the garters. This I wound several times around my legs and it formed a very tight band, digging into the skin and muscle so that it wouldn’t slip or slide down later. I cinched that one too, but carefully. You know how that works, I guess. If the legs are bound too tight, then when you bend your knees the binding gets too tight and is painful and dangerous.”
“Good for you,” said Frank. “That’s very true and a lot of amateurs get into trouble that way.”
“Right,” said Katy. “So I went to stand up and the camera remote dropped out of the garter belt and fell at my feet. I eased back to the floor, picked up the remote and tried to figure out where I might keep it. Then I thought of the duct tape and that was the solution. With a short piece of tape, I placed the remote, which was about the size of two nine volt batteries side by side, on my left wrist, like a watch, where, even with bound hands, I would be able to reach it easily. So then, once again, I stood up under this sturdy, low roof beam and checked to make sure it would hold my weight. I already had thrown a couple of long lengths of rope over the beam so that I wouldn’t have to bend down to pick them up later. It was almost impossible for me to reach the floor from this position with my feet anchored to the floor ring and legs tied so tightly in all four places, so I hung everything I thought I’d need from that low beam.
“Then, always thinking about safety, I stuck the hunting knife in its sheath and put it under the garter belt at the center of my back. This was my only safety net and I didn’t want to lose it, but I also wanted it out of the way while I played. The sheath has a small Velcro slot that I hooked onto the belt, so it would stay put.
“Next, I put in the cloth gag, a clean, new wash cloth. I did it very carefully and well, stuffing the fluffy cotton fabric material into my mouth, pressing my tongue down and then filling the cheeks. When I was done, I yelled and screamed to test it and found that while I could make some limited noise, I wouldn’t be heard very far from where I was. Like in the drawing, I then wrapped a narrow band of cloth around my head several times, forcing the gag deeper into my mouth and then tying it off behind my head, right below my ponytail hair ribbon.”
“Well,” interrupted Ellen, carefully following the story, “I can already see some problems and some danger. You made some mistakes.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Katy. “But you know that some danger is always a part of the self bondage mix, right?”
“Yes, that’s true, psychologically, I suppose,” said Ellen cautiously. “But physically you still need to protect yourself. Given the situation you describe, I would have worried.”
“You’re right, of course,” Katy said. “But that’s not the half of it. I was really into this and sweating a lot, even though it was cool in the loft. At that point, I put on a pair of long, black calfskin gloves and buttoned the cuffs just above the elbow. They were very snug and the fingers were a bit too long for my hands, so getting them on just right was hard to do and I knew I’d never get them off without being at least as free as I was at that time. The long fingers made it hard to do the buttons.
“So, then I took another long length of rope from the beam to m
ake what I call an arm band loop. I selected a piece that was long enough so that when made into a three or four strand loop, it would bring my elbows closer together and hold my arms back. I don’t know about you guys, but this is one of those things that I really like and have the hardest time doing.”
“True,” said Frank. “Without someone else’s help, it’s almost impossible to get a really good elbow bind. The leather single sleeves work well, but you can’t usually get them on, (or off, for that matter), without some help or using a “dead man” arrangement.”
“Dead man arrangement?” asked Katy. “Is that what I think it is?”
“Uh huh,” said Frank. “Once you’ve got it on, you aren’t getting it off without some outside help. That’s a real problem with auto bondage.”
“Boy, do I know that’s true. I have wrestled with all sorts of stuff, trying to get my elbows back and every time it either fails or I think, ‘this is not a good idea’ and drop it,” Katy added.
“Some people have success with large panty hose, panty girdles and things like that that have a lot of stretch, I have read,” said Frank. “But personally it’s not what I want.”
“I agree,” said Katy. “I’ve tried that and it’s too complicated and certainly doesn’t have the look and feel that I want. I mean, it just seems weird to have your arms bound in a girdle, you know. So anyway, as I was doing this, I thought that maybe I should be careful about tying the final knots on my hands. That’s when I got the idea which was later to cost me dearly. I took one of the chain dog collar loops and put both hands through it to measure. I should have stayed with rope, but I wanted to see how much slack I had in the chain. As I tried it on my wrists, I was thinking of several methods that might work. It was, of course, a complete loop of chain with the repair link connecting the two end rings. With hands in front, I had my gloved wrists through it and saw at once that there was plenty of freedom, so I rotated one hand and twisted the chain a bit. There was still too much slack, so I rotated my hand a second time. This tightened the chain nicely and provided a very secure binding for my hands, which in this arrangement, was about two inches apart. I could release the tension simply by rotating one hand and loosening the loop. The safety I set up was that if I failed to untwist my hands, I could also unscrew the repair link, which would open the link and allow me to slip one hand out. I planned on that, but didn’t test it.
“So there I was. Ready for the last few measures in the really thrilling reenactment. I had no audience except the camera and the mirror unfortunately, but I was revved up pretty much on my own. I was wet between my legs and I was having a great time. The ropes around my legs and ankles were staying tight and so I moved to the next step. I went back to making the arm band loop. I fashioned a triple strand loop, tied the rope ends together and slipped one side of the loop over my hands and pushed it up over the elbow. Then, I put both arms behind me and struggled a bit while I slipped the other part of the loop over the other hand and wiggled the rope up over the elbow. This made effective, snug elbow bondage, but one that I knew I could get out of. It was still a bit too loose, so I removed it and shortened the loop a bit and tested it again until I was sure it would work well enough and not slid down once my hands were bound behind me. To make it even better, I twisted the rope twice, forming two loops, one to go around each arm above the elbow. This, even though I had done it many times before, it turned out, was another mistake.
“Anyone getting bored yet?” Katy asked, rather breathlessly, pulling on her handcuffed wrists behind the seat a bit now and then as she related the self-bondage tale.
“Not me,” said Frank.
“Not me,” added Ellen. “This is getting really interesting.”
“Okay. So, next, I took one of the ropes that was dangling from the overhead beam and carefully tied a bowline loop in each end. With the rope over the beam, I pulled until the two loops hung at about the same level and then again, I measured to see if they were at about the right place for my hands to be fastened. I had to bend over to check this and it would force my hands and arms up, almost horizontal. Happy with this arrangement, I put the arm band through one of the dangling bowline loops and, holding on to the other hanging loop so it wouldn’t be pulled up over the beam; I started to wiggle my left arm through the arm band loop. This wasn’t easy and I got frustrated because it was a very difficult position and one arm would go in but getting the second arm in was difficult. I also knew that if I dropped the arm loop I couldn’t bend down and retrieve it without untying my legs. I fought with this for what seemed like hours and then, suddenly, the right arm went in and the arm loop was at my now close together elbows, just above the glove tops. I was really sweating now, but I slowly eased the arm band further up over both elbows so that it was pinning my biceps above the top of the gloves, pushing my tits out and forcing my shoulders rigidly back. I am not double jointed, but with exercise, practice at home and constant workouts, I am able to keep my elbows pressed together for a long time. This is where that preparation was paying off.
“I was so happy that I had accomplished this that I made my next move without any real thought. I had the second bowline loop in my right hand, so I slipped the wrist chain over the left wrist, put it through the second bowline loop and put my right hand into the chain loop. I twisted one hand quickly to take up the chain’s slack and there, at that moment, I was, more tightly and thoroughly bound and gagged than I had dared to imagine. Everything worked. I was ecstatic. The suspension was quite perfect. Any attempt to lower my hands tightened the strain on my arms as the rope over the beam slid like it was on a pulley. If I raised my hands, the tension on the upper arms lessened.
“I don’t know about you guys, but this was a self bondage submissive’s dream come true and I was more or less constantly coming as I rubbed my bound legs together, shifted my feet and watched myself in the mirror. Tears mixed with sweat and other body fluids as I hung there. I also knew that I wasn’t getting out of this for awhile. Physically and emotionally thrilled, I had an incredible orgasm right there, shivering and shaking and yelling into my gag as I hung by my wrists and elbows in the loft. At some point, I remembered to fire the camera a few times. The flash worked and the photos shot out of the camera onto the floor.
“I was, except for the chained wrists, a perfectly bound and captive Gwendolyn match. I could see myself easily in the mirror and I got even wetter between my legs. I knew that having taken the final step of putting the arm band and wrist chain on, I had perhaps violated my own code about back-ups and safety, but I was having far too much fun at the moment to worry about getting free.”
“That’s not uncommon in auto-bondage,” Frank offered as Katy stopped to get her breath. “I think most of us get carried away with the moment and our guard is down and then we may make mistakes. At least you decided not to use the handcuffs!”
“Oh yeah,” said Katy quickly. “If I had put cuffs on, I would have been even more freaked out. And I really love handcuffs, as you can tell,” she said as she rattled the cuffs that held her hands behind the seat. “There’s something in hearing the cuffs ratchet closed and feeling it on your wrists that is like nothing else.”
She hesitated a moment, and then added: “Well, I suppose its relative. Having a tight rubber or leather hood pulled closed behind your head, or having that huge ball gag jammed into your mouth. All of those things have a psychological impact on the submissive, in self bondage or otherwise, don’t you think?”
“I agree,” said Ellen. “When I play dom it’s always evident that certain moves cause much stronger reactions with the victim than others. Some people will have an orgasm just seeing a gag or hood or chastity belt. Much depends on the relationship between the top and the bottom, as well as on the driving motivation for the session in the first place.”
“The driving motivation in this case was to simulate what I had seen in the Sweet Gwen books. That was all,” said Katy. “Perhaps I thought that eventually Secret
Agent 69 would come by and free me. Gwen, I mean. As I struggled, the blouse began to come off my shoulders and this was even more erotic for me. I realized that I had been moving so much that I had literally popped the lower buttons on the blouse and was now more or less fully exposed from neck to waist with the collar of the blouse back over my shoulders and the sleeves sliding down to my arm bondage. That situation would come up again later, but at the moment, I really don’t know what I was thinking.
“I took more pictures, turning sideways as much as I could and hoping that the camera would catch the lovely arm bondage with my elbows nearly together and my shoulders pulled back, my hanging breasts fighting to get out of the bra cups and my obviously stressed look as I struggled to escape.”
“I’d love to see those photos,” Frank interjected, getting another whack on the shoulders from Ellen.
“I have them in an album at home,” said Katy. “Maybe we can do a book.”
“Go on, Katy. Sorry we interrupted,” said Ellen.
“So anyway,” said Katy, picking up the thread. “The hanging rope loop held my arms and hands up and out away from my body and I had to bend over even more to ease the strain on my shoulders. Looking up into the mirror, I was pleased to see that I saw a perfect reproduction of Gwen, at least in my head. I was totally enthralled. Anyone who might have been watching would have had a great shot of my breasts nearly popping out of the bra cups, my hair getting into my eyes and my ass sticking out behind me. I was soaked in sweat, my panties were glued to my ass and crotch and the tops of my stockings were wet with the combination of sweat and drool and seepage from my pussy. I was already wishing that I had violated the Willie image and put a nice tight, multi strand crotch rope in place, but it was too late for that.
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