SelfBoundOR

continued from part one Part Two She tugged at the bottom of the shirt, trying to will it longer, but it just wouldn’t go past the top of her rib cage; she thought she might be more dressed, or at least feel more dressed in her rope bikini tie, but only just. She looked down at her bare feet slipped into her damp flip-flops and estimated that from toes to tits she had maybe three or four inches of cover, the pale skin of her bare mid-riff and long legs shining in the glow of the parking lot lamps. Sarah reconsidered going to get food and just taking them home, but the idea of parading into a brightly lit restaurant in front of God and everyone in the skimpiest outfit she had ever worn just got her tingly; a near naked run through a public place sans the bondage gear, and definitely caught. Besides, she wanted to do this to rile up the ladies one last time; and she was hungry. ...

continued from Double Jeopardy Part One Sarah sat on the edge of her couch in her living room staring at the swatch of cloth in her hand. She was tense as she considered her next move, evident in her rigid posture, her feet propped up on her toes. Her legs were close together, her usual favorite shackles swapped for a pair of large handcuffs that fit comfortably around her ankles, giving her a very limited inch of clearance instead of the twelve she was used to. She would have to hop to the bed room and find a careful way to get down on her back or stomach to get the keys left on the floor under the bed she needed to free herself, if she could get past the gag. She looked at the adorable, almost childlike bright yellow panties in her hands in the shape of a very un-childlike cotton thong with a little orange cartoon flower in the middle of the small triangle. They were too cute to be naughty and too small it seemed to be underwear. But they were in fact the under garments worn by Anita, the woman who came to her about a month ago, the cause and release of her and Kate’s stay in their shower-clamped hell. ...

Authors Note: This story while it is not a direct follow up to The Villain, it resolves the open ended-ness of that story with a bit of flashback. Sarah took a sip, but then had to resist spitting her mouthful out across the table. She managed to swallow without dousing her companion, and burst into a big laugh afterward, “Are you serious, he said that?” Kate was caught in a bite of her cookie, excused herself as she swallowed and responded in kind, “Yeah, that little douchebag actually thought I OWED him for coming to my rescue…” She realized her voice was rising to a level audible to those at nearby tables, and she put her hand to her mouth and chuckled, giving an embarrassed look that Sarah returned. Kate had picked this place for coffee because it was usually empty after lunch and they found a quiet nook there to chat about things that they didn’t necessarily want others to hear. People near the front of the cafe were talking about movies from the 50’s. Two retired men near the kitchen were arguing about Jack Dempsey vs. Muhammad Ali, an age old “Who would win?” contest men and boys had all their lives. These were nice and boisterous, and they drew attention from the two attractive women sitting in the back, their hushed tones carrying the sordid details of humiliation and discovery at the hands of one man named Matt who, unwittingly, must have cashed in all of his “lucky chips” to fulfill his fantasy of finding a gorgeous young woman naked, bound and helpless, inadvertently falling under his clumsy control; not once, but twice. Sarah and Kate shared the ignominious medal of having been caught by that buffoon while indulging in a little innocent self-bondage that he turned into dangerous no-escape situations. Kate recalled the story like an episode of a TV show, a rhythmic tale of plans gone wrong one day when she set herself in a taut spread eagle to the corners of her bed with iron head and foot boards, lingering joyously alone for several hours, leaving out no small details about her favorite black gag and the custom clamps she had made that started at excruciating and went to medieval. Sarah imagined a laugh track as the story progressed, and the lively whispers evolved into a debate of the benefits of being spread versus closed in a tight bind; Sarah argued her points for the defense with the memory of the Matt event still fresh in her mind. They found their conversations of technique and style titillating and informative, and both lamented the fact that they had not had each others company and counsel sooner than that night two months ago when they first met, sharing two technical mistakes that made them a unique pair; they both dated Matt and in the fuss and flurry of their kinky indulgence, they both forgot to lock their doors on fateful nights. “He is one lucky fucker” grumbled Sarah. ...

The rain was pouring down, setting everything outside in a shiny haze that reflected the gray overcast sky. Sarah came bursting through her front door, soaked from head to toe. Her gym was only a few blocks away and when she left for there the clouds seemed far less threatening. She left her umbrella home in favor of traveling light and she paid for it on the way back. In fact, all she had were the clothes on her back, scant as they were. Her white t-shirt that stopped a good few inches above her belly button was hardly working to conceal her pink sport bra underneath. Her blue shorts turned a deep navy with the drenching, despite her all out run down the street, her breasts heaving all the way, full pink beacons under her now see through top. She was pretty sure a few heads turned to take in the blur. Her feet were sloshing around in her shoes and she pressed her toes against the heels and kicked them off into the corner near the door to dry. Her bare feet were still damp and she noticed the wet foot prints she left as she turned back toward the hall mirror. She peeled her shirt and bra over her head in one good yank, and her breasts shook free, tingling from the cool air of the apartment. The wet top flew through the air just through the door of her bedroom, soon followed by the wet clingy shorts and panties; she’d get to the pile later. She was still quite wet and cold drops of water ran down her skin, leaving little puddles all over the hall. What she needed now was a hot shower and a dry towel. The damp and chill were unpleasant, and she thought about snuggling up and reading a good book on this dreary Saturday. The day was pretty much a wash since her new boyfriend, Matt, had made plans with his friends and would be gone all day. They had only been seeing each other about a month, so she felt weird about imposing on the other aspects of his life. She liked that he had close friends. Sarah’s thoughts wandered back to that sweet kiss that turned into a little more than either she or he expected and she suddenly felt a little guilty about spurning his advances the last time they were together. Right now, being trapped inside the apartment alone on a rainy day with no plans made the idea of him being here quite desirable. It would have been the perfect day to spend naked, wrapped around each other with nothing but sex to keep them busy. She imagined the two of them rolling around on couch, the bed, the floors, in at least a few rooms, and her eyes closed as her mind wandered and she started to become aroused. As she got lost in thought, her hands wandered up to her lovely 36D breasts and cupped them gently. Her hands encircled the full curves and her thumbs and forefingers drifted to her nipples, and she gave them an absent minded squeeze. The slow pressure she applied elicited the gentlest of gasps and her right hand broke away and slid down her stomach, caressing the top of her neatly trimmed pubic patch, a dark flurry of hair to match her brunette locks she let grow over the past few months to just past her shoulders. Further her hand reached and she let out a little sigh as the tip of her middle finger stroked tiny circle around her clit hood. In less than a minute, wetness developed between her thighs to rival the rain’s soaking, and her breath started to race a bit. She opened her eyes to watch herself in the mirror, examining her form from head to toe. In her excitement, without realizing, her legs had spread wider and she propped herself up on her toes. Her fingers were hungrily snipping at her nipples and her hips began to thrust back and forth slightly. “Damn,” she thought. “Why did he have to be busy today? I would have loved to see the look on his face when I answered the door like this.” The thought made her smirk and she ran a few more small circles around her clit. Her mind wandered a little more as her eyes drifted shut again and a new naughty thought popped into her head, almost involuntarily, ”I wonder what would he say if I asked him to tie me up?" The image of that moment caught her off guard and her stomach fluttered a bit, nervously, at the idea of his reaction. “I hardly know him, would he think I was crazy or sick? What would he do to me? I hardly know him…” The uncertainty of that situation made her resolve to wait until the time was right and a little more trust was developed between them. In the meantime, she was alone, with nowhere to go and no one to see on a rainy Saturday. The sight of her curvy figure in the mirror and the thoughts running through her head eliminated most options; “Time for a little dangerous fun; what better way to while away some hours than tied up and struggling?” Her butterflies kicked into high gear. She thought it might be fun to play in the living room, rolling around in the middle of open floor, trussed up tight. “Maybe I’ve been robbed…” she thought, a story swirling through her head of a heartless criminal making quick work of her property, somehow uninterested in the naked young victim he has bound helplessly to buy him some time. She is left behind, the abandoned refuse of a dark night’s work. Her hands were unknowingly kneading her nipples as the story developed and she came to from her reverie and bolted for her bedroom. Sarah hit the ground, sliding on her knees, and reached under her bed for the latest addition to her toy pile. She had recently picked up a nice 100’ coil of soft hemp rope at a hardware store and cut it into various lengths. She spent one evening after work a few weeks ago measuring the pieces and applying black electrical tape to the ends to prevent unraveling and to the center of each piece so she could quickly find the center and make a bend there without a lot of fuss. Tonight it would pay off. Sarah plunked the coils of rope on the bed and made for the dark corner of her closet. She emerged with her toy box in hand, and placed it on the bed to pick her goodies for tonight. From the box, she extracted the handcuffs, her harness gag and the cuff keys. She rifled around the box for whatever else might make the cut and her hand landed on the clover clamps. Her mind wandered back to her harrowing night in the shower, and her nearly final imprisonment, and she thought twice. “I’ll enjoy these again when someone else slips them on,” she thought. She picked up the dildo and her butt plug and considered them as well. “Would a burglar take the time to force these in her to leave here there alone? He’d more likely fill me himself," she snarked. “But maybe they’d keep me passive and busy while he turns the place over.” She debated the perverse sexual tendencies of the fictitious robber in her head and the crueler he got, the more she liked him. She wanted to linger while bound and helpless, and a vibrator would just pop the cork too soon. But the butt plug would be nice and frustrating. She bit her lower lip, and grabbing the black plug and her small bottle of lube, she placed the cuff keys on her nightstand (having to retrieve them would be all the more fun). With restraints in hand, she headed for the living room. Sarah stopped in front of the hall mirror and gave herself a quick glance. The sight of her naked form, hands clutching her tools, and the thought of her smooth skin and soft curves suffering the bite of the new ropes was enticing. She wanted to get down to business before the flip-flops in her stomach drove her to drop everything and just relieve her tension right there. She rested everything on the floor and got down onto her knees. Her hand scooped up the plug and lube and she quickly coated the black latex with the slick clear gel. Once slippery in her hands, she rested her head and shoulders on the floor, forcing her ass higher into the air. Her hands were cold and slick with lube as she probed her loins and stretched her reach until she could feel the tight pucker of her ass with the tips of her fingers. Switching her weight to her right shoulder, Sarah swung her left arm over her back and let the goo from her fingers caress the soft skin between her buttocks, making little forays in her sphincter with the tips, driving some lube within her to ease the passage. With the plug in her right hand, she met her left hand in a pain inducing stretch and started to aim the tip of the black latex into the tender opening. She could not imagine the contorted pose she was in and chuckled to herself a little at how silly she must have looked. “Nice to be alone”, she thought. The tip of the plug found its mark and with what extension she could muster, she pressed her finger tips against the flat “handle” of the plug and slowly started to pull it inside of her. Her arousal swelled as the tool invaded her and with each push, she felt herself gaping wider than she thought possible. Her eyes shut and her breath turned to little gasps as she savored the stretching sensation, her ass opening wider still under the force of the intruder. The plug reached the edge of the wide cone, almost 2 inches in diameter, and Sarah felt a little cramp in her stomach. The last bit was always the hardest and she fought to keep her seal from popping out. Keeping her left hand against the handle, she pulled her right arm out from under her and pushed herself back into an upright position, her thighs resting flat against her calves. She slowly leaned back and shifted her weight from her folded legs to her butt and could feel the handle of the plug touch the floor. Her hole quivered at the sensation of the large head within it and sent another shock of a cramp to her stomach. She was too far gone to stop now, and with a moment of courage, she dropped her weight against the plug. Her punished hole relented and the rest of the plug slid home, her sphincter clicking shut around the narrow neck, relaxing as a sensation of fullness became front and center in her mind. The cramps faded, but were replaced with the dull ache of constant pressure in her anal passage. Sarah leaned forward and propped herself back onto her hands and knees as she caught breath, which she realized she was hold during the last few seconds of the plug ordeal. As her breathing slowed and relaxed, she gave her hips a little twist. What were normally imperceptible parts of her body were now highlighted with every movement as she could feel the handle of the plug between her cheeks press snugly into its valley. She gave her ass a little slap and the gentle giggle revealed how much more sensitive she had become, a constant reminder of the tight enclosure she forced upon herself. It would be impossible to forget the tormentor hidden behind her, out of sight. And once she was done with her prep, impossible to remove. The butterflies fluttered, and she returned to the task at hand. She reached behind her head and scooped her hair, still damp and a little knotty from her workout and soaking, into a taut pony tail and slid the hair tie she had around her wrist, coiling it a few times around the base of the tail to keep her hair at bay. She grabbed the harness gag next, deciding from now on was the silenced time, and worked the large red ball between her teeth. Once in the right spot, her mouth closed slightly over the ball, making it feel like part of her anatomy. She pulled the harness over her head like a mask, pulling and adjusting the straps to sit comfortably over and across her nose, down her cheeks and under her chin. The fit was still good from the last time and the harness seemed to snap to the frame of her head. The two straps buckled securely under her pony tail and she tested the hold. Without hands freeing the straps, there was no way to dislodge the ball; her tongue and teeth giving it their best. Sarah sat up straight while still on her knees and turned to ogle the gagged girl in the lower half of the hall mirror. She loved that she was the sexy silent girl staring back at her, and her right hand gave her clit hood a little swirl while her left gave her nipple a pinch. She gave off a satisfied moan into the gag, reveling in the muffled sound. The girl in the mirror reached her arms over her head and folded them at the elbow, crossing her wrists under her pony tail in an “invisible” tie. She twisted her hips with a jerk and let her tits jiggle, slowly swaying to a stop, voluptuous in their fullness and curves. Her nipples stiffened and her hands dropped down unbidden to give them a generous pinch. “God, gagged mirror girl looks fucking hot”, Sarah thought to herself, suddenly a little embarrassed at her own smugness, “but she needs something else.” Without looking, she reached over to the pile of neatly prepped rope coils and plucked the top one off. Her hands slid along the length of the rope until she found the center marker, and folded the rope in half there, forming a bend, and let the rest drop to the floor. She grabbed the doubled rope under the bend with both hands and slowly slid them apart, forming a length of two cords while keeping them taut. She brought both hands behind her and passed the ends of the rope through the bend, taking up the slack and sliding the new belt around her waist to center the bend behind her. This rope burned a little more than she expected as it slid over her soft flesh versus the old cord she normally used, and the jury was out as to whether it was better or worse. Maintaining good tension, she pulled the ends of the rope down hard, letting the coil pull tight against itself and her. She passed the ends from one hand to the other between her legs and up and under the front of the belt. She pulled out the slack to let the new truss press firmly against the pink delicate flesh of her pussy and the solid unmoving latex of the plug. With two fingers, she parted her labia slightly and the two cords slipped firmly into their embrace. With a final hard tug down on the front of the waist belt, the ropes bit into her tender skin, and pressed the plug even harder into her, though she swore it couldn’t possibly go any deeper. The tight, sealed sensation she was feeling in her ass just moments ago jumped to a new scale, and she arched her back as if to pull away from the relentless insertion. Sarah’s imagination took over as the force mounted, and her mind’s eye could see the masked robber behind her, pulling on her crotch rope mercilessly while worrying the plug deeper into her ass. The assembly was tight, almost painful, and with no relief to be had, she submitted to the ropes and her anal seal. Her hands split the ends and ran the ropes several times around the crotch line, creating a braided effect down the front of her mound. With about six inches left in each hand, she tied the ends into a strict granny knot right above her clit hood. She started to sit down on her haunches to take a little break, but the move made the ropes dig even tighter as she leaned into her crotch harness. She bolted back upright on her knees with a start, coming to full attention as the cords burned against her skin. She realized the trouble she was in for and got to work before her resolve ebbed. Sarah pivoted on her knees and returned to the mirror with the attractive woman, now sporting a painfully tight looking crotch rope in addition to her gag. The woman cupped her full breasts and gave them a squeeze. Sarah’s breasts responded, feeling soft and delicate. Her nipples softened a little, and she returned them to attention with swirls of her fingers around the aureole. The skin wrinkled and her pert tips came back to life. She gave them a firm pinch and leaned her head back to enjoy the ache. Her hand fell on to the pile of rope and plucked another loop from the collection. As with the crotch rope, the found the center and bent a loop into the cord to double it over. Her hands met behind her back and passed the loose ends through the bend and pulled the slack tight, making a constricting pair of cords that formed an alluring border under her breasts. Each new application of rope was a fresh experience as the snug coil seemed to light her skin afire as it slid around to center the knot in the middle of her back. The ends were brought together and passed around her body in the other direction, tension kept at a maximum, until they came again to the loops behind her and were pulled through to finish the top half of the rope frame around her tits. Pulled tight, the pair was separated, each cord run over her shoulders and brought together again to run under the pairs of ropes crossing her upper torso. Keeping the rigging taut with one hand, she wrapped the rope twice more around cord pairs, forming a cinch between her breasts and pulled the whole thing snugly. The cinch pulled the upper and lower ropes together, forming a tight constriction around her sensuous orbs that made them bulge and go taut. Her tits were full and engorged as she ran the separate ends once more around the back of her neck and tied them with a nasty square knot. The last tie behind her neck forced the tight ligatures to give her breasts some support and lift. Her tits thrust out before her, full and solid, a twist of her hips giving them just the slightest jiggle that the ropes quickly brought under control. She ran her hands over her costume and studied the effect in the mirror, the ropes encasing her soft skin and delicate features. Her bondage bikini was complete, an assembly of unforgiving cord that felt like she was at least dressed in something skimpy, yet revealed everything; surely the sadistic vision of her captor. She stood up and glared at the slowly evolving victim in the mirror, catching herself about a half a dozen times as the rope reminded her repeatedly, above and below, of how constricted she already was, and yet she could still walk about and do whatever she wanted with her hands as if she was clad simply in underwear. This would have to be addressed right away. “Time to get this little bitch under control”, she thought. Sarah slipped her hand under the front of the crotch rope and gave it a hard yank. The tight rigging snapped back to position as the plug in her ass forced a gasp from her that couldn’t quite escape her throat. It was a brutal reminder of who was in charge and the robber appeared behind her again, arm around her body, hand under the belt. He gave it another yank, “Get down on your hands and knees, slut.” A series of short whimpers slipped past the gag as Sarah felt compelled to get down on all fours, the ropes biting her and the non-stop pressure of the plug cowing her into submission. She got down on the floor and crawled as bidden by her invisible tormentor into the center of her living room, ropes and cuffs in tow. The polished hardwood floors offered little comfort in her position and there was nothing to hide behind in the center of the room. Her bound body was exposed; ass in the air, sealed shut with the black plug, her full breasts hanging and swaying indecently as she made her crawl. The light here was different than the hallway she started in and Sarah realized her window blinds were open. She thought for just a moment about closing them, but the heavy rain outside created a shimmering sheet over the glass that blurred the world. “Why not suffer for someone else’s pleasure?”, she thought. She was pretty sure no one could see in, but maybe someone would get lucky. The thought of being spied on while tied up set her arousal level up another notch and she remained on her hands and knees in the middle of the room for a few minutes, silently waiting for her next orders, thinking about her predicament. She was already humiliated and aching, how much more could she take? The ropes, gag and plug were working almost too well and Sarah was off in dreamland, her submission to the fictitious robber nearly already total. The damp gray day was creeping into her shadowy apartment and her skin tingled with little drafts from the exposed windows. She came down from her cloud and realized she was only half done. Like an obedient victim who knew her options were limited, she swung around from her kneeling position and tentatively on her left buttock, slowly rolling into a sitting position, allowing the full weight of her body to press the plug into a constant state of maddening pressure. Her anus was screaming for relief but it was not to be. She sat silently in the middle of the room as her forced probe worked it relentless magic, the slow draw of her breaths through her nose the only sound she could perceive beyond the constant spattering of rain on the windows. She gave her nipples a nice pinch to keep the blood flowing and try to distract from the ache of the plug, but nothing could quite overwhelm the filling sensation. Her captor was quite clever to do this to her. Sarah still had a victim to finish tying; she slid her feet together and drew her feet closer, pulling her knees toward her chest. This placed nearly all of her weight on the black seal aching in its inglorious task, and she found herself questioning her methods, but only for a moment. She reached over to the pile of ropes remaining and grabbed the next coil. Doubling the ropes to form a bend, she wrapped the woven cords around her ankles, holding the bend off to the side and coiling the pair firmly around her limbs, taking care to leave about a hand’s thickness between. She made three circuits, and then pulled the ends through the bend, centered between her feet, allowing her to change the wrapping direction. She ran the loose ends around the taut coils twice, pulling the rigging into a nice cinch that took up all of the slack. The ache she felt in her ass was more than worth the sensation she experienced as the ropes pulled tight, securing her strong legs. The ropes constricting her ankles were a frame for her shapely bare feet, accentuating the delicate curves of her soles and arches; her long slender toes, dressed in her favorite clear polish, reflecting what little light was coming in and she took a moment to admire them and her work. She lamented, for a moment, the lack of barefoot opportunities day to day in the city. Even today, with its torrent washing away the grime, the oily rainbow puddles were probably not fit for naked skin. Several coils of unused rope still lay next to her and she grabbed the next one and performed her ankle binding ritual, in kind, right below her knees, taking care to run the loops deep into her knee pits. The cinch between her knees pulled everything tight and caused the ropes to form like a cuff around her upper calves, adding more frame to her curvy legs. Her lower body was quite immobile, but she wasn’t quite done yet. Another skein of rope from the pile coiled like a snake around her mid thighs. With the rest of her legs already welded shut, pulling the cinches through was more work, but the pull compressed the loops and tight straps formed around her thighs. Sarah sat upright and stretched her legs out in front of her, admiring her sexy limbs as a new single unit. The bondage changed her position a bit and the plug continued to harry her. She gave her work a few tests as she twisted and strained from her groin to separate her legs, of course to no avail. Her robber, lurking in the back of her mind, always just out of sight, admired his handiwork. A few coils of rope still remained and she stared at them, ruminating about where they might be added. She grabbed another coil and performed her doubled-over wrap around her stomach, leaving the coils rather slack. She snatched up her handcuffs and slid the bracelets up under the crotch belt behind her back, the chain straddling the tight “Y” shape that emerged from her ass. The cuffs slapped down on her cheeks as she let go, hanging patiently for her arrival. She grabbed control of the loose coils around her stomach and slid her arms down into the wrapping. Her left arm was fairly easy, but she gave herself not quite enough slack to force her right arm in. With a few grunts and twists, the belly rope soon contained both of her arms, pressing them snugly to her sides. Sarah was rather impressed, thinking she couldn’t have tied that better if she measured it. With a little rubbing and burning, she brought her arms a little closer together behind her back and scooped the cuffs up into her hands. Here she was alone, naked, the outside world a distant memory as she faced her assailant, the masked sadist who prepped her stay in helpless isolation to aid his escape with her precious belongings. His business was the anonymous exchange of others peoples’ property, and business was good. He wasn’t going to leave his calling card for the police to find and lose such a sweet gig by ravaging his unfortunate victim, the single young woman who came home just a few minutes too early. For fear of her safety, Sarah acquiesced to his demands and allowed herself to be tied and left alone so long as he left quickly. The turns of his rope rigging now dug into her tender flesh, the gag kept her silent and compliant. But the plug, that was his cruelest idea, and it was working like a charm. With little finesse, he forced this intruder inside of her, held in place by the seemingly rigid crotch rope that grew damper and more irritating with her every breath. The wicked plug seemed to continuously expand and fill her and the indignity of the sensation was just what he needed to keep her motionless and submissive on the floor while he finished his task. With all the knots and buckles in order, he brusquely slipped her wrists into the steel cuffs and snapped them shut, the ever tightening ratchets breaking the wordless silence of the dark room. Sarah wondered for a moment if he even kept the keys to these chains, and as they formed to her wrists, he added a little insult to her situation by clicking in the double-lock buttons. He pushed against her shoulder and she fell onto her arms folded behind her back, prostrate in a long, lithe pose; a single-limbed creature spread across the hard wood. As she lay back, the robber disappeared out of the periphery of her vision and she was again alone, staring at the white ceiling. She tugged on the cuffs now circling her wrists, and the angry response returned by the plug immediately told her to behave. She curled her legs a bit and leaned to one side to ease the quickly building discomfort in her arms. She couldn’t imagine how she was going get free, and her mind swirled with the idea of being trapped like this for a long time. Maybe she could crawl her way to the kitchen and find a knife to cut the ropes, if only she could reach the drawers. Where was her scissors? She writhed and twisted her limbs in the snug coils, relishing the sense of immobilization she had created. Her robber was quite efficient; she was sure he was a practiced hand at this, and the thought of naked women helplessly bound and abandoned in apartments across the city made her tingle. What kind of devil could avoid such temptation? Sarah managed to roll over onto her side, and then her stomach, but every move pulled at some ligature somewhere, and once on her stomach, her full bulging breasts spread out awkwardly under her. The compression made her breasts bondage dig in hard and it ached after just a minute or so. Trying to find a little comfort in her suffering, she arched her back and raised her butt into the air. All this did was put more pressure on her poor breasts and make every inch of the crotch rope dig even more, if that was even possible at this point. She stretched her legs and toes out and arched her back backwards, lifting her upper body and her roped tits off the ground for a few seconds, but this was unsustainable and she let herself flop back down, a grunt slipping out of her throat. As she landed, she could see and feel the beads of drool forming at the corners of her mouth trickle out and start to pool on the floor under her face. She didn’t want to get it all over her, and the effort to keep her head tipped back was more than she could bear after a minute. With what little movement she had in her arms, she attempted to create a little momentum and roll over onto her other side, each little sway of her arms yanking her already sore wrists, which then dug her crotch rope deeper into her pussy and against the silent menace swelling in her ass. Grunts and drool erupted from around the gag and the floor under her head became a slick little trail she tried to avoid. After a good deal of twisting, writhing and yanking on all of the worst places, Sarah managed to roll herself back over, bracing herself as best she could with what little elbow movement she had to lower herself onto her back. She found she could flatten her hands and rest fairly comfortably on the cuffs without them digging into her back too much. She let her legs stretch out, pointing her toes to try and ease a little of the ache out of them like a cat. She relaxed her shoulders and let her head touch the floor. Her breathing slowed and she found herself slipping into a calm relaxed state of mind. Her struggling had fatigued her some and now that she just accepted her situation, she found herself appreciating it more each minute. Her limbs relaxed and she could feel the ropes working against her, keeping everything in the tidy little package she put herself in, doing the work of immobilizing her instead of her fighting against the tethers. A satisfying warm tingle washed over her, not an orgasm, just a happy sense that everything was as it should be. Sarah turned her head to the left and drool oozed from the corner of her mouth, but she didn’t care. “Oh god, why can’t I just stay like this all the time?” she thought. Except for the silent rise and fall of her stomach, Sarah lay quite motionless for a while and time began to stretch and dilate. The rain continued to pelt the windows, as hard it seemed as when she first got home. Though her eyes had slowly adjusted since she began, the gray bleak day had become cloaked night and the single street light outside cast angled shapes of light and shadow through the living room, undulating through the sheets of water. A chill settled on the room, but her tight cocoon continued to arouse her, and the warm flush in her skin overcame her exposure. Relaxed and cozy in her bondage blanket, she drifted off for a bit. She awoke sometime later from restless dreams, the room even darker than before and for just a brief moment, she forgot her situation. ...

Friday evening finally arrived and Sarah couldn’t wait to slough off the stresses of the long week behind her. She looked forward to the first quiet evening alone in weeks; her friends were cast to the four winds with obligations of their own, as well as her parents, enjoying the first day of their vacation. She hadn’t had a boyfriend in some months and was getting accustomed to her sexual liberty, which is why tonight sounded like such a good idea for a little naughty play time. After a quick trip to the bathroom, Sarah peeled off her clothes and enjoyed those first seconds when her naked skin seemed to breathe easier, unconstrained by the elastic and wire of her undergarments. Her clothes lay in an unceremonious heap in front of the hamper and she ran her hands over 36D breasts and hips as if clearing away the last vestiges of the office. She wondered for a moment what her office mates would think if they saw her do what she was planning to do to herself in the next few minutes. Her stomach did a little somersault as the thought freaked her out and aroused her at the same time. Maybe she had been alone too long. Sarah decided it would prudent to make a quick circuit of her apartment and check the curtains and door locks, and of course the stove, even though she hadn’t cooked all day. It made her feel better to check. As she made her inspection, the sound of her bare feet padding along the hard wood floors echoed in her ears, raising her arousal level a touch. She despised shoes and only wore them because everyone else in the world didn’t have the common decency to just simply carpet everything. Oh well, one day they’ll all get it. She always tried to wear as little shoe as possible and would go to work in her thinnest flip-flops if she could. How else could she show off her shapely feet with the fresh pedicure, the new clear polish shining at the tips of her toes? No matter, though, as her impending imprisonment would soon deny her the comfort of clothes, let alone shoes. Tonight, Sarah decided, she would be naked, as a proper prisoner really should be. What jailer would offer criminals such pleasures as covering while enduring confinement? Surely she would not be spared. The thought got her off track and she rested a hand on the wall while she regained her balance, a little flush ran through her. If she didn’t want to pop her cork before play time, she had to get back to business. As she closed the last curtain, she caught a glimpse of pale skin in the hall mirror. Shoulder length dark, cropped hair caressed the top of her shoulders and hazel eyes glared back at her momentarily. Then her gaze dropped to take in the details of the full, supple breasts she viewed in the mirror. She looked at them as if perhaps she had stolen a glance at some other woman’s breasts and admired them lustily. She reached her arms over head and crossed her wrists behind her head, and with a sultry move, gave her hips a little twist. The movement of her body gave her gorgeous soft tits a little sway from side to side and she felt enraptured by their movements as if they had decided to try and tease her on their own. She didn’t know whether to thank Heaven, genetics or perhaps some eros-driven, lightning throwing, shadowy immortal who blessed her only to later pluck her and take her at his whim, but she had quite a voluptuous figure. Again the idea of her plans came front and center into her mind, and she fought off the butterflies. Whatever the source of her curves, she was going to punish her body for being so sexy. She took one more quick glance at her breasts, her nipples starting the harden, thinking she had special plans for those beauties. She took hard, fast steps back to the bedroom, throwing her hips to and fro, making her tits dance and bounce in all directions. She scooped up the luscious orbs in her hands and kneaded them between her fingers, wresting them under control. Her mind again envisioned the jailer, a medieval man-at-arms with crags and wrinkles in his face and rough hewn hands squeezing them mercilessly. She was to be imprisoned, and properly restrained to punish her for her crimes. From the deep, black corner of the closet came her private toy chest, a vault of naughty delights she enjoyed when the time was right. Her bondage would be simple, but restrictive, and if she wanted to escape, she would have to endure a self-imposed torture. Without a moments hesitation, the silver Fury leg shackles with the 12" chain came out of the box and were instinctively snapped around both of her delicate ankles. In fact, it was only after the second bracelet had ratcheted shut as tightly as it would go did Sarah even consider where the keys were. After a quick rummage, she plucked them from the bottom of the box and placed them on the nightstand, easy to pick up, for now, she thought. She admired her shackled feet in the cold steel, alternately pointing her toes in a hard arch and then throwing her legs as wide as she could to relish the feeling of the chain snapping her legs at a hard 12 inches. She wondered to herself why didn’t she wear these more often? Around the house, while watching TV or cleaning? Note to self for later; keep the shackles handy. After the initial rush of the ankle bondage started to wear off, she plucked a neatly wound coil of thin rope from the box. As Sarah unwound the loops, the ends of the rope made a satisfying thud against the floor. Once fully unraveled, she double the rope over evenly, making sure the ends stayed an equal length. When she was left with a small loop in her hand and a new jumble of rope at her feet, she wrapped the doubled rope around the top of her chest, pulling the long ends through the bend, twisting the loop around her body and cinching the rope until two tight cords of rope encircled her chest just above her breasts and the two long ends pulled against the bend behind her back. Keep the tension strong, she wrapped the rope in the opposite direction, running the ends through the new loop in the middle of her back and taking up the slack until two tight cords bit slightly into her skin under her breasts. Her breathing accentuated the grip of the rope-work, and she used this a gauge to keep the tightness even while she threaded the remainder of the long ends through the solid loops in the middle of her back and brought the long ends to the back of her head where she split them, one over each shoulder, and then brought them back together as she ran them under the two pairs of taught rope compressing her chest. Carefully keeping the tension, she wrapped the long ends around the two pairs and when she made one full wrap around them, Sarah pulled the rope tight. The high and low rope came together between her tits in a firm cinch that quickly made her breasts compress where they met her chest and engorge. Her tits were suddenly very full feeling and the skin pulled tight. Her nipples showed their approval. Soon enough my lovelies, she thought. The jailer was feeling particularly cruel tonight. Sarah wrapped the end of the rope a few more times around the middle of the cinch and brought the separate ends over her shoulders and around the back of her neck. She tied the ends in a simple knot and pulled, keeping the tension. Her breasts heaved up and she applied a simple bow to keep them in place. Some of her more expensive bras didn’t give the the lift and separation this simple rig did. Hmmm… how would it look under a shirt? Later, she thought. The jailer felt a crotch rope was in order. Why not watch the prisoner squirm? Sarah wondered if a dildo or one of her little vibrators would be appropriate. No, again no such pleasure for this slut. She’s probably in prison for prostitution, or adultery, why give her any satisfaction? Another coil of thin rope was taken from the box, and like the breast rope started with a doubled length of cord wrapped around her waist and threaded through the bend. The rope burned a little as she pulled it tighter and tighter while centering the bend over the top of her ass. She didn’t get to see as much of her ass as her sexy twins, but she admired its fullness just the same and gave herself a firm whack on the right buttock. She was rewarded with a tasty little delayed sting in her cheek and the pleasure of a titillating jiggle that gave her pussy just a little play. No more of that if I want to get this going, she thought. Again keeping the tension with one hand against the bend in the rope, she reach between her legs and snagged the two dangling ends with two fingers. Once in hand, she pulled the two ends up and under the pair of tight cords just above her mound and took up the slack. She gave each butt cheek a little adjustment to let the rope slide right up into the crack of her ass. With a little more pulling, she could feel rough hemp twine she was using slip in between her pussy lips. Her pussy moistened just a little against the dry rope and it felt as if her labia were gripping the rope themselves. With another tug to give everything a frustrating tightness, she pulled down on the ends of the rope in front of her, pulling her sinister belt into an alluring V-shape, like a bikini. Every little movement was reminder not to move. Catching her breath, Sarah sent the two long ends of the rope back between her legs and scooped them up behind her. Keeping the tightness at cruel levels, she passed the two ends of the rope, one to each hand, around the back of her legs, just under her buttocks and wrapped the single lengths around the tops of her thighs, creating tight loops that gave her ass the same bulging taught sensation as her breasts. Sarah only wrapped the rope once to let the cord bite into her. Pulling the ends tight, she wrapped the ends around to the front and tied the remainder of the ends into a tight knot joining the intersection of her rope bikini. The ends hung down and brushed against her thighs, almost annoying. Good. An involuntary little gasp erupted from Sarah’s throat and it actually startled her a bit. Time to fix that, she thought. Another reach into the box produced a web of thin leather straps with a red rubber ball secured amongst them. As if ordered, Sarah slipped the ball between her lips and forced it between her teeth. As her jaw relaxed into position, she felt how her mouth closed very little and the ball filled the gape of jaw quite tightly. The straps were pulled over her hair and she laughed a little to herself as she realized how the head harness was already well fitted from her last foray. She buckled the strap at the back of her head and pulled the chin straps a notch tighter. The ball suddenly felt as much a part of her head as her tongue or her nose, over which a tight strap met with a single ring that pulled another strap tightly down on her head. She groaned into the gag, as if ordering it to leave, but little more that a grunt at the back of her throat could be heard. And by whom? The gag remained, unrelenting, and no one else would hear her cries. A pair of Fury handcuffs emerged from the box, a matched set to the restraints clinking on her ankles, and Sarah carefully hung them around the intersection the crotch rope made over her ass. The cuffs were pulled up under her waist rope and on either side of the rope emerging from her ass, placed so they could not be pulled one way or the other (unless she wanted cut herself in half. The rope felt like it was half way there already). She sidled her hips from side to side, the crotch rope digging and stroking with each twist. Her breasts shimmied very little this time as the rope that enveloped them pulled them tight and immobile. Her chained feet took tentative steps, each one accompanied by the bite of rope and a tingle of excitement. The handcuffs hanging on her ass bounced and jingled with a little slap with each step she took. The two final items she plucked from the box were a small Velcro cable strap with a plastic loop and a favorite little jewel that she had forsaken for quite some time. Sarah had experimented with and enjoyed, to varying degrees, all sorts of nipple clamps. But hands down, the clover clamps were her favorite. And tonight she would reintroduce herself to them in grand style. They were to be the centerpiece of her bondage, the linchpin from which, if she could not escape, she would be helpless for a long time. She had, during previous self-imposed predicaments, fastened her limbs to various immovable, ensnaring anchor points. But tonight, the jailer was feeling particularly clever and sadistic. She stepped slowly into her bathroom, the final stretch toward her prison. She caught a sudden glance of herself in the mirror. Not at once did she think this silly or dangerous. She felt incredibly aroused, and every curve she relished earlier in the hallway mirror was infinitely more sexy wrapped in tight rope or ringed with metal shackles. Sarah’s heart and stomach were in full flutter, and the bathroom mirror got a full show as she gave all of her trussing a good test to see how well it was enveloping her soft delicate flesh. Her tits barely moved and her crotch rope seemed to find new uncharted depths. The whole rig was maddening, and all Sarah wanted to do was reach under the crotch rope and break the tension, but alas it was too late. Her sentenced had been handed down, the jailer had prepped her incarceration and no governor was calling to grant her a stay of “execution.” She turned and faced her cell, the slim unimposing shower stall that had greeted her first thing every morning. For all the showers she had taken in there, she could never full understand what the little bar embedded in the shower wall was for. Chest height, only an inch or so of clearance from the wall. It was convenient to hang onto for balance occasionally and before she switched to a bath sponge, was suitable for her washcloth. The frosted glass door was a nice touch, and it always closed with a satisfying click. Tonight, that would be the sound of her cage door. Sarah stepped over the threshold of the shower door, and her feet immediately found the cold remnants of her wash this morning. Little puddles all over the floor made her prison that much less inviting (or more?) and the chain of her shackles clacked loudly against the hard plastic of the stall floor. The sound was a constant reminder of her restraints, and the thought that others outside of her cell might hear the noise unsettled her. Again, no matter, there was nothing she could do about it. And what if a fellow apartment dweller came to investigate the sound? What would they find? Sarah suddenly wished she knew her neighbors a little better. The door closed behind her with that satisfying click, as if the door seal that kept water from leaking out of the shower was also sealing her in. Her breath was long and heavy through her nose and the tight coils around her chest continued to constrict. Sarah took the short Velcro cable strap and caught the chain of the clamps within it and then wrapped it around the short bar embedded in the stall wall. The strap ran through the plastic loop on one end and then doubled over on itself to form a strong, tight ring around the bar. She gave the clamps a firm tug and realized how strong Velcro was, the strap did not move. Taking a moment to work a little courage, Sarah centered the the clamps between the strap. With a trembling hand, she leaned in close to the wall and slipped her right nipple between the open jaw of the clamp. She gently released the mechanism and the clamp went from closing around her nipple to squeezing to trying to make the two halves of the jaw touch. God these things are tight, she thought. She made quick work of her left nipple before she chickened out, and with a gentle hand, gave both short chains a quick pull to seal the deal. The clamps dug in and the direct connection she imagined she had from her nipples to her clit kicked in. A dampness was definitely forming between her legs, and a raw sensation against the crotch rope was quickly becoming noticeable. The rush of the pressure on her delicate tips forced a gasp in her throat, and she put her hands against the wall to steady herself. A few tears ran from her eyes as the sexy rush became the sharp ache she was looking for. She came back to earth and realized how close she would have to stand to the wall, even her toes were practically touching the wall. This was going to be precarious. The jailer was growing impatient. The prisoner was nearly fully restrained and ready for her stay. With inelegant gruffness, Sarah’s wrists were swung behind her back, forced into the cuffs, and the cold steel ratchets were clasped shut around them. She gave the the cuffs a test and the pull against her pussy felt very sure. Sarah considered what she just did. The key to those cuffs was a room away, close enough. All she had to do was free herself from the clamps, whose continuous pressure on her nipples seemed to grow more intense every second. A little wave of fear ran through her and she instinctively tried to reach around to free herself from the wall. Her rope work was solid and she rewarded herself with another hard dig against her pussy. A gasp tried to escape through her gag and for the first time tonight, the “mmmph” it created scared her. No one would hear her cries. And no one was coming to rescue her. If Sarah was going to escape, she was going to have endure the torture she imagined for herself. She would have to pull her nipples out of the clamps that tightened the more she pulled or she would be trapped; naked, bound and helpless. ...

continues from part one Part Two The last orgasm took it’s toll and Sarah slumped forward against the wall, mashing her bound breasts against the wall, her nipples still throbbing. As the the waves ebbed, she tried again to grind her pussy into submission and pique its interest, but exhaustion was setting in too quickly and her head became dizzy. Without opening her eyes, she did her best to plant the balls of her feet into a position that would support her while leaning without a lot of effort, but the floor of the shower stall was now quick slick, and her momentary toe holds would quickly give out as her feet would start to slide slowly out from under her. It was becoming an exercise just to keep her legs under her. She had often masturbated right before bed and found a quick rub to be the thing to get her tired and off to dreamland. Now, Sarah had just experienced her third orgasm in succession, and the fatigue that was setting in was overwhelming. She felt as if she would black out. Her knees began to tremble and the power to hold herself against the wall was quickly flowing away. She had to act. With one defiant try, she arched her back slightly and rocked herself away from the cold plastic. Her sway back was abruptly stopped as her tits reached full extension and the chain of the clamps snapped taut. The sensation she experienced with that move was far worse than anything she felt prior to her ecstasy as the surge of adrenaline and dopamine had since subsided. The sudden jolt brought Sarah out of her stupor and an involuntary scream died as a grunt in her throat as the gag continued to keep her silent. The bite of the clamps seemed to escalate with each muffled breath as the pain in her nipples reached heretofore unknown levels. The coils of rope began to rub her raw above and below, as did the cuffs on her wrists and ankles, but the clamps delivered agony an order of magnitude beyond these as the sensation wavered between a fiery sting and a constant, intense ache. She instinctively attempted to bring her arms to the front again and slip the cursed things off, but her wrists, now overly sensitive as they pressed against their snug metal rings, reminder her that there was a specific order to be followed here. Sarah glanced down again at her little captors and fresh warm saliva spilled onto her tits; the lusty, animalistic rush the drooling gave her earlier quickly becoming a humiliating mess she wished she could stop. The clamps stared back at her with a shining silvery wink, unmoved at all from their starting position, as dug in as before. Any remnant of the pleasure she felt a few minutes before was gone, and the real pain she was feeling in her limbs and her stomach, the sticky cold sensation of her natural dew drying on her skin, capped with the sight and agony of her nipples inextricably sealed in the clamps came to a head, and big tears welled up in Sarah’s eyes as sobs arrived uncontrollably in her throat, the sound of them muffled by the gag wedged in her aching jaw only making her feel worse. The tears ran down her cheeks and quickly mingled with the damp glaze on her tits. She leaned forward, resting her forehead against the wall, again assuming the balancing dance that the lean incurred. Her chest throbbed and heaved with stuttered gasps as she cried harder, tears streaming from her cheeks directly to the shower floor, landing with hollow little thuds in the silence, broken only by her whimpering. Her watery eyes peered down at her nipples, and the fluttering in her stomach that powered her arousal earlier had returned, accompanied by the sense of hopelessness that drove her fantasy. But this time it came from a feeling of panic and dread. What was she going to do? Even if Sarah had any courage left to pull against her restraints (which was long gone), it didn’t matter if they would not budge from their duty. These clamps seemed as inescapable as her handcuffs or shackles; unyielding, permanent without their keys. The last thought made her stomach do a full flip-flop and the queasy sensation only added to her helplessness. Her eyes welled up again, and just when she thought it couldn’t get any worse, a new realization dawned on her. The intense force of her orgasms had been replaced by a slowly building pressure in her bladder. Sarah had to pee. At first, it didn’t seem to be imminent, but her deep sobs had pushed her closer to the edge and the urge to relieve herself, while not immediate, was now constant. She told herself she would not think about it, but that soon became an exercise in futility. The harder she though about it, the more acute the sensation became. She even gave the nipple clamps a good yank to try and distract herself. The shock of pain helped momentarily, but the gasp she produced only added another notch on the pressure gauge. She wondered if she could somehow break or shred her crotch rope with the handcuff chain to try and give herself more movement, but she quickly realized that everything was well beyond that point; her wrists were too far chapped to struggle with, the crotch rope was too soaked through with sweat to tear and shred and if she pulled on it anymore, she would probably just squeeze the urine right out of her. She began to moderate her breathing, slowing it down to try and relax. The clamps kept challenging her calm and any zen she tried to attain met with some distraction. She shifted her weight and brought her feet together, hoping to somehow reinforce the dam. The metal shackles on her ankles clanked against each other and she stood stone still, focusing all of her effort. But her new stance proved flawed as she found she lost her balance faster, and it was only with a quick shift of her feet to a wider stance that she was able to head off the imminent nipple yanking. The chain snapped taut, but only just as she just caught herself, and a high pitched squeak bounced off of the inside of her gag. Legs again spread for balance, Sarah marked time by how much everything hurt now as opposed to some time ago. She had no idea what time it was nor how long she stood in her self-imposed prison. She wondered how much more she could take of this, but quickly shook the thought off as it raised her panic level. There was no end here. She couldn’t imagine dying like this, but how could she go on? This was torture, slow and methodical, and she realized she would probably go crazy before anything else. The thought lingered in her head a moment and the wave of hopelessness she batted down before swelled back up in full force, and tears ran down her cheeks and tits as sobs once again caused her body to convulse uncontrollably. Her stomach had a full stone it it and the movement only highlighted the tenderness of the skin under her bondage. Worse yet, this round of sobs finally force the bladder issue front and center and Sarah felt as if she would burst if she didn’t let it go. Despite every indignity she forced upon herself this night, she winced at the thought of relieving herself in this manner. She never dared considered urinating a part of her sex life, it was something you did after sex, after the knots came loose and the gag popped out, part of the pleasure of release. She could never have imagined being trapped in her own bondage rigging, desperate to relieve herself. But then again she never imagined being trapped quite like this before. Her head turned slightly from side to side and she realized she WAS in a shower, a room with a dedicated floor drain. Where else would a civilized person do such a thing? Then again, what civilized person would be naked, bound, chained, gagged and clamped of their own accord? She pushed these quandaries out of her head and slowed her breathing. She relaxed as much as she could. The stream would simply hit the wall and flow down into the drain, simple. Once she got passed this little obstacle, she could get on with the real problems at hand. Her body relaxed and the first trickle dripped forth. Within a few moments, the trickle became a torrent. But the neat little stream she imagined didn’t take into account the tight cords of rope wrapped around her cunt and legs, forming a web that stood directly in the path of the flow. Urine surged out, sputtering and splattering against the crotch rope, and a spray of warm, acrid secretion gushed out in all directions like a fire sprinkler. A deluge of hot liquid streamed down her legs and pooled around her shackled feet, now covered in a fine mist. Sarah shouted into her gag, as if ordering her bladder to stop out loud. She tried to hold it in and stop the flow, but the urge was too great and she found herself out of control of yet another part of her body. For a moment, the indignity was outmatched by the warm, tingly sense of relief that she so desperately sought and a satisfied hum formed in her throat. The stream seemed to flow for minutes and the bottom of the shower was awash in a pale yellow film that seeped its way to the drain. But the damage was done, and she snapped back to reality as she realized she was soaked from crotch to toe, her legs raw and wet, small drops of urine rolled down her ankles sneaking past the shackles. In fact, she realized, she was soaked top to bottom, her hair was damp with sweat, her face and chest coated in tears and saliva, lubricant and urine from the waist down. She was a mess and her degradation and despair hit a new low. The shower floor was slick and her various effluence commingled into a slimy, unavoidable puddle under her bare feet. She was standing in a toilet and it started to smell that way too. While trying to ease the pressure on her wrists, it occurred to Sarah that to get the key to release herself, she would have to track the “milk” of her travails across her floors and carpets into the bedroom to the nightstand. The thought made her a little angry and she wondered for a moment if she could shower herself off while still bound, another first. While considering the options, her right foot slipped a little from its purchase and she found herself growling into her gag once again, tears flowing from the corners of her clenched eyes, as the clamps, still firmly gripping her tender skin, applied their talents as she slipped down. ...