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Authors: Jurgen von Stuka

Tags: #Erotica

Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult (26 page)

BOOK: Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult
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       My fingers still fumbled with the corded loops around my wrists and I found a bit of slack on my right wrist where the handcuff loops had not dug into the skin. I got one fingernail under the rope loop and slowly, painfully, pulled it apart from my wrist. Then, thanks to my not having had a manicure in weeks, I slipped the same fingernails under the remaining cord loop and pulled that one free as well. Now, carefully, I eased my freed wrist out of the rope loop. This allowed me to free the other hand and I was on my way to getting out of this mess.

       I've already written too much, but I wanted to tell this story, especially since you asked. I suspect others have had similar experiences and I do wonder if the vicarious thrill/fear factor is what causes us to do SB. That frequent touching of the raw edge of fearful, erotic experience seems to drive all of us.

Chapter Thirty

Susan talks about the risks of SB,

discusses various accessories and tells of one hotel room experience.

Her outlook is mature and somewhat casual.

Susan - Managing the risk

       This is going to be short, I think, because I am not very comfortable with telling about my private interests, no matter who is doing the research. I saw enough here today to convince me that the survey is legitimate and the surveyors are honest in protecting my privacy, so here it is.

       To answer the first question I can only say that I am over 18 and younger than 23. I have been into SB as long as I can recall, tying myself with ribbons and handkerchiefs at first and not knowing why, except that I desired to emulate the characters I saw in films and on TV and in some comics. The drawings, film and artwork of Wonder Woman, Cat Woman, Mrs. Peel, the Bond girls and so many more just made me want to get in dangerous situations as they were. Only in doing this did it eventually become an erotic experience. To this day, I still don't fully begin to understand this. I get hot when I see someone tied up. I want to be tied as well and the easiest thing to do is just tie myself. I have tried it with a few men and usually find them either too extreme or simply doing it to please me and thus get sex in the bargain. Neither of these options appeals to me, so I have acquired the means and ability to bind myself really tight for long periods.

       My favorite position? I guess its either ball tied with my knees up under my chest and my head pressed down against them. In this pose, I am able to reach around and insert various phallic devices into my "hot spots" and enjoy the thrill of the bondage and the mechanical fucking of my pussy and ass. No man I have ever met is able to match that, so I continue. The second option is simple. If and when the opportunity presents itself, I like to tie myself outdoors, ideally on a nice, cool, grassy spot. I measure on the ground places for six stakes and place them into the ground solidly so that they cannot be pulled out except with great strength or with a tool. They are in the position of the points of a six-pointed star, evenly spaced. The top of each stake is smooth and I polish up each stake after it is in the ground to make sure that when I slip a rope loop over it I can also pull it off. Next, I place rope loops around my wrists and ankles, making them snug but also using a bowline knot so that they will not tighten further.

       I also put on a metal collar and tie a short rope to its D ring in the back. Now, that takes care of five of the stakes. If you have been following my story, you can imagine that the four corners of the pattern will hold my hands and feet, the single stake at the top of the star will take the rope from my collar and the opposite one, the stake at the bottom of the star,...well, that one is to hold a thin cord attached to the ring in my pussy.

       I often use a metal pony bit, which allows me to make sounds, but also functions as a nice oral restraint. If I am in the mood, I attach the reins of that bit to the top post as well so that if I move my head, the bit digs into my mouth.

       So, getting into the position takes some careful attention to detail. I sit on the grass, extend my legs and put the end loop of each ankle rope around the appropriate post. This is good exercise because my legs are now held wide apart. The thin cord from my pussy rings goes down to the stake between my feet and is looped there with enough slack so that I can recline without tugging my cunt lips off. Sometimes this requires a bit of adjustment. Then I lie on my back, attach the bit reins and collar rope to the top stake, also assuring that it is without slack. Finally, I slip on the wrist loop over the stake near my left hand and then, knowing what this means, extend my free right arm until I can just barely slip the loop over the final stake.

       Staked out in the woods, bitted, collared and pussy bound, I can enjoy the scenery and watch the birds in the sky, all the while thrashing about and tugging on the appropriate ropes as long as I want. The fantasy in my head is not very complicated. I am not concerned with the who or why I have been bound out here, but one old and useful vision is that I have been taken prisoner by savages and they have staked me out here until I am willing to tell them some terrible secret. In the extended plot, they may come back now and then and taunt or play with me. Sometimes they come and put something evil up my cunt, often a carved wooden phallus. With my rings already staked down, they bind the phallus into my pussy and leave it there. My writhing about will bring additional reaction and they may stay and watch while I struggle.

       Getting free from this staked out position requires only that I can reach over and slip one wrist rope off the stake. The options include putting enough pressure on the stakes to pull one of them out of the ground. On one occasion, I found that I had slanted the stakes just enough so that it was very hard to pull the loops back over the top. I sweated and swore until, with a massive stretch that I thought would dislocate my shoulder, I got one loop off the stake.

       Why am I here at this event, writing and talking for the first time about my fetishes, my preoccupation with bondage? I came to learn, share a bit, (as I'm doing now), and find some solace in knowing that others do what I do and that it is not an aberration, that it's not weird and that SB has a place in society along with other exotic/erotic practices that some people may find disturbing.

       Dangerous? Of course it is. So is walking to the grocery store. Where I live, the latter is far more dangerous than SB. I don't know anyone nor have I ever read about anyone doing SB and killing themselves, but I have friends and I know of even more people in the city who have died just walking down the street, minding their own business. So no, I don't consider SB dangerous, as long as you follow the rules, plan and know exactly what your options are.

       My profession? Oddly enough, I am in the risk management side of the insurance business with a large corporation. I know about risk and I know that tying myself up for a few hours when I have time and privacy is relaxing, sexually exciting and a continuing challenge to my creativity.

       By the last phrase, I meant that there is little to be gained, in my opinion, by doing the same thing every night. Couples who have sex the same way, in the same position night after night soon get bored with each other and the thrill goes out of the act. Tying oneself the same way has the same rewards. Doing something even just a fraction different each time keeps the thrills coming and the excitement building. My orgasms without bondage are negligible. With SB, I can count on getting a tremendous, multi-orgasm ride that lasts and lasts, no matter what I am using for the bondage or what else I employ in the way of stimulus.

       Favorite devices? Huumm. That's a hard one…no pun here. Certainly if I have only one toy that I could take on a trip with me, it'll be the battery-powered dildo that looks and feels like a real dick. I have experimented enough to know what works and what doesn't. Basic vibrators are, to me, a drag, unless they are incorporated with something else. A butterfly vibrator on my clit, a good-sized plug up my ass and an in and out dildo in my cunt will kill me with pleasure. Sadly, I suppose, it doesn't require anyone else to be present. If they were, they would probably come as well just watching and listening to me. Also, Ben-Wa have their uses, especially if I have to do a lot of walking around and want a reminder of what will hopefully happen later that day when I get home or into my hotel room.

       Speaking of hotel rooms, I have to relate a very short tale about being in an upscale New York City hotel a few years back. After a long day of endless, stupid corporate meetings, I begged off from socializing with the gang and went back to my hotel room, showered and tied myself, spread eagle to the four corners of the king sized, canopy bed. I used lots of rope that I brought in my checked luggage, a handy inflatable gag with a leather strap, a leather discipline hood that fit over the gag and worked well with the hood. I added my old favorite dildo, the one with the cute extension that tickles my clit while plumbing the depths of my frontal aperture. Ordinary clothes pins bit aggressively at my nipples and for good measure, four more nibbled at my lower lips. I was cruising along on my second orgasm when I heard a noise and someone entered the room. I almost crapped the bed. I was wearing nothing but a tiny push-up bra, an equally tiny thong that helped hold the dildoe in place and all that rope, plus hood. I stopped struggling and waited, listening. I heard a muffled cry, then a nearly whispered, "Are you alright, Miss?" with a strictly Hispanic accent.

       I hummed and nodded my hooded head as much as I could, then waited. I heard a final word: "Sorry." The door opened and closed quietly and that was that. Nothing more concerning that event ever took place. I suspect the maid was just in to make up the bed and I accidentally left the door unlocked, so it was my fault, but you can be assured that I won't do that again.

       I suspect that others have had similar experiences and no harm was done, except that the maid was probably embarrassed, even though I am told that they encounter much more frightening things in their daily work. So, it was all part of learning, I guess.

       Does this sound too casual? Do I sound like I take this all for granted and am just some stupid, odd-ball, thrill-seeking, blue-eyed, blond broad looking to get tied up with something stuck up her cunt? I hope not.

       I keep looking for the right partner, male or female. There is no question that women seem to better understand what is going on here and I have met enough girls and women at this event to justify that argument. I can easily identify with the men who are straight but like TV self-bondage, even if I do not understand the psychology behind it. I know several of these men, some gay and some straight and they are all very sensitive, open and, like me, looking for some answers.

Chapter Thirty-One

Andrea, like so many others here,

 developed her own device for SB using minimal tools and

readily available materials.

The “T” Strap Thong

       You asked if I have a favorite device or position and I want to tell you about something that I think I actually invented, although there may be other people in SB and SM who have come up with the same concept.

       What I set out to do was come up with something that would allow me to suspend myself and have one or two dildoes work on me while I hung from an overhead by my waist, not by my hands or feet. That may sound weird, so let me explain.

       It always seemed to me that if I hung only by my waist with arms and legs pulled downward, I could use this downward force of gravity to drive dildoes deeply and forcefully into me. The question was how to do this by myself. The solution was, in the end, pretty simple, but the reality was that if you hang by your waist the force is mostly to your midsection, not to your crotch.

       Using good quality, tanned, leather hides, I cut and then sewed a simple thong that fit me like a glove. It has a wide leather belt that will support my weight on its own and the front triangle is small, but extends between my legs and supports two rubber dildoes mounted on the center strip. The end of the thong buckles to the back of the belt and completes the thing.

       Just wearing this is enough to get me off at times, but once I connected the hanging rope to the back of the belt and hoisted myself up from the floor, the fat little devils already embedded in my crotch took on a totally different kind of aggressive nature. The problem initially was that my weight was held by the waist belt and not enough force was being applied to the part through my legs. I thought about this for a while and then came up with a way to handle this. I put some D rings on the thong, one in the middle front, below my navel and another in the back slightly above where the butt plug was based. Then I ran some sturdy stirrup straps through these rings and brought them up and fastened them to the chain over my head. By varying the amount of weight these straps carried, I increased or decreased the tension on the crotch portion of the thong.

       In the end, I found that the best arrangement was with my body more or less upright, rather than bent over. What I created was essentially a tiny saddle to ride. It wasn't what I initially had in mind, but it works.

       I have attached a strong set of multiple blocks, (pulleys), to the ceiling of my playroom, putting the bolts all the way through the rafters. The more double or triple blocks there are, the easier it is to hoist myself by pulling on one rope and locking it in a cam on the lower block set.

       I bought all of this equipment at a marine supply store and it works flawlessly. The rig was actually a common item for sailing yachts, intended to hold down the boat's boom and keep it from swinging around.

       The rest is simple. I can hood or gag myself before I hook up the hoist and add cuffs and or shackles to my legs and hands as well. Happy sailing!

BOOK: Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult
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