Philber

Luke was unlike most of his fellow college students. While he studied hard, he also needed his time outdoors, and doing sports. He particularly enjoyed sailing, and rock climbing, and it was not easy to find a college where he could practice both, but he did. One day Luke got a visit from his dorm buddy Mike. But Mike seemed embarrassed. “Luke, I need to ask you something, but I can’t tell you why. With all that sailing and climbing you do, you must be pretty good with knots, right? Do you think you could teach me how to tie a couple of proper knots?” ...

Tess was in tears. Her lover, Richard, had texted her that their affair was over. How could it have come to that? They loved each other, and had planned to marry, so…? But in fact she knew only too well. She and Richard shared a taste for bondage, and both had owned up to being switches. How often do you meet a guy who, besides being your soulmate, also happens to share your kink? Richard was a one-in-a-million, the find of a lifetime, and now she’d lost him. ...

(story continues from More Than He Bargained For…) Part 2: The Doctor Knows Best Hans had not had a good night’s sleep. Tanya, the escort he had booked for the night had tied him up tightly as per his request, and then things took an unwanted turn. Tanya informed him that, in her native Russia, she was actually a doctor in psychiatry, and so quite used to getting unruly or violent patients under control with proper use of restraints. That evening, she had used the ropes and straps that Hans had provided, but suggested that a straightjacket was a much better device for really long term, inescapable bondage. ...

story continues from part one Part Two Marion had actually done it. After years of fantasizing about being bound, of collecting bondage magazines and videos, and more years of self-bondage, which was almost the real thing, she had contrived to tie herself up truly inescapably. As her project grew, she couldn’t resist adding more and more bondage to her predicament. She had decided for a straightjacket-on-a-bed situation, that would have been enough for most people, but her years of yearning had made Marion a bondage-starved girl. She had seen all the videos and did not want to be a sad second best. So she had succeeded in tieing herself up in 9 points of hospital-quality restraints. Her ankles were trapped in Humane Restraints strapped to the bed. Another strap took care of her thighs, and another one of her torso. Said torso was well taken care of by a Humane Restraint straightjacket, reinforced by restraints keeping her biceps apart and tied to the bed. If that weren’t enough, she had plugged her ears and gagged her mouth before hooding herself, and tethered this hood to the bed with a chain. ...

Marion was a long-time bondage fan. Long time meant since she was 12, and she realized that any view of a person tied up, on TV or in a newspaper article, whether it was the victim of gangsters, or the gangsters themselves handcuffed by the police, created some strange and nice stirrings inside her. Growing up, one thing led to another, and she progressed to the Internet and discovered that her taste was shared by others, and was called bondage. But, though she was hugely turned on by pictures and videos of tied-up beauties, she hadn’t taken the step to actually practicing. How could she talk about her secret fantasies to anyone ? Whom to trust ? How could she take the plunge and the risk ? So she remained a closet bondage fan, and, as in many such cases, she indulged in self-bondage. ...

It was the money. The damned student loans ! With the recession, finding a job right out of university that paid enough to take care of them, a practice that had gone on for generations, was no longer valid. Jessica was now only weeks away of becoming a deadbeat in the financial system for defaulting on her loans, as well as on some credit card debt she’d accumulated to try and service the loans until she found a decent job. So, every day, for want of anything better, she scanned Craig’sList for ads that might give her a few days’ reprieve. ...

continued from part one Part 2 Maryanne was in hell. Through her own stupidity, she found herself tied up tighter than a fly in a spiders’ web, and left alone suspended in a hammock in a locked, deserted cabin. She had let her desires run away out of control, taking Mike, her husband, for granted, and not taking the time to even read the instructions of use of this diabolical “gift” from him. So she had donned this beautiful snowsuit, and, after a nice walk, managed to zip herself up in it until she couldn’t get out. ...

Maryanne was a strong, tough young Lady. While she was married and happy enough, she had never failed to let her husband know, well, not exactly who was boss, but how far was too far. At times, she needed her space and let said hubby know about it in no uncertain terms, not caring overmuch if he agreed or not. Now was such a time, when she went up to their cabin in the Colorado Rockies, and would be joined by Mike only in 2 days. During that time, she could take the long walks deep in nature that she claimed were so good to «clean up her headspace». ...

«Mistress, my name is G. I saw your name on Max Fisch, and I am interested in sessionning with you. If that should meet with your approval, I would of course provide references. Respectfully yours, G.» I am not a submissive or a slave. But I am excited by being tied up, and the more and the longer, the better. The problem is however that most people who apply to Dommes for bondage are subs and masochists. Only if the Domme is both on top of her craft and a true bondage aficionada, do we connect. Of course, it is fairly easy to weed out Dommes who, while possibly great, are not in tune with my quest: bondage requires equipment. So, unless she advertises that she uses cages, straightjackets and/or sleepsacks, that she does sensory deprivation, and that her equipment comes from quality manufacturers, such as Fetters, Mister S, Max Cita, and very few others, she is probably not an ideal partner for me. Metal from Metal Bondage or RigidCuffs is also a good sign. ...

continued from part 3 Part 4 I was stuck. I had planned, ever so elaborately, for the ‘perfect’ straightjacket self-bondage: I wouldn’t be able to get out of it at all, however hard I tried, so I would be -and feel- completely helpless for 24 hours, After which my partner would come in to set me free. And I knew I could face the long bondage session, because self bondage left me tied less stringently than at the efficient hads of my partner, so I would have enough freedom to change positions and adjust over time, avoiding the pains of strict immobility. ...

continued from part 2_ Part 3 _There I was, on my quest for the perfect straightjacket self-bondage. I had managed to put it on, in a way that I could not get out of, except with outside elements. I had put on a legsack and connected it to my straightjacket. I had managed to get into a self-hogtie. But I had still gotten out, so I was looking for even more… Except that I knew full well that I had already gone (see part 2) to the very limit of what was potentially terminally dangerous: tieing myself up beyond any possibility of getting free. ...

Jessica had a nice figure, no two ways about it. And she couldn’t meet her debt payments, no two ways about it either. So she reviewed her options for the umpteenth time. To ask her parents was out of the question. They had already bled themselves dry to help finance her studies, she couldn’t possibly ask for more. Banks and finance companies were out, as were credit cards: she was already maxed out. ...

continued from part 1 Part 2 Now, if I could write this story, it is obvious that I could (and did) get ouf my straight-jacket self-hogtie. First, I tried to escape. It is my favorite activity, and, clearly, I had earned the right to do so. I thought that, maybe, the fact that my arms were not strapped very tightly behind my back and not threaded through the side loops would give me a chance. But that was without counting the chest strap and the pinion straps. First, I tried to see if, thanks to the slack in the sleeve straps, I could grab one of the buckles and somehow, even without seeing what I was doing, and without much feeling or dexterity thanks to the thick leather mitts that terminate my SJ’s sleeves, still manage to undo one of the buckles. If I could, it was game over, in the positive sense. But, even though the straps weren’t pulled tight at all, I couldn’t even come close. As if the SJ designer had kept this in mind when putting it together… ...

As long as I can remember, I have always been fascinated by being tied up and helpless. In particular, medical restraints are the ones that are the most suggestive. They obviously mean business. Not style, fashion, visual impact, comfort or not, just helplessness for the person being restrained. And obviously, no medical restrain is as daunting as the straightjacket. A straightjacket is particularly well suited to my desires, as it is reasonably comfortable to wear, even for long periods of time. Spending one, two, even three days on end in one is something I have done more than once. Providing there is someone to help me with toilet duty, food and drink, it is not overly uncomfortable. And this although any good jacket not only is unescapeable, but lets the wearer know of the futility of his/her struggles. ...

Part One In 1991, the Soviet Union had collapsed, and soon it was clear that all former Soviet countries were dirt poor, some worse off than others. And soon the all-too-frequent companion of misery materialized: prostitution. Beautiful girls from the former Soviet Union showed up on early European websites of fledgling escort agencies. That suited Hans to a T. He was divorced, well off, and did not fancy himself going to bars to hit on girls. Booking Russian or Ukrainian girls who combined beautiful bodies and educated minds, and had few inhibitions in using either, became a favorite hobby. Soon, one thing led to another, and, because of his frequent bookings, Hans became a favorite customer of an agency in St Petersburg. ...