Padlocks on Gromet's Plaza Archive

Dungeon Museum

Sun, 24 May 2020 00:00:00 +0000

Continues from part two

Part 3

I hung from my wrists in the darkness as my legs just couldn’t support me. My body felt completely drained and for the first time I shivered; not from fear or excitement but because I was actually cold.

My body was soaked with sweat which had beaded and was now running down my body, it tickled a little bit as it ran down between my shoulder blades; made even more enjoyable by the fact that there was nothing I could do to stop it. My front was even wetter because of the drool from my tortured mouth. The bridle kept my jaw in a constant state of discomfort but what was worse was this unending stream of drool running down my chest, over my stomach and pussy, before finally dripping off and mixing with the puddle between my legs.

A Water Illusion?

Sat, 20 Jul 2019 00:00:00 +0000

My life partner, Angie, pointed it out to me; I would have missed it, because it was in part of the paper I do not read. “What do you reckon to this?” she said as she handed the paper to me and tapped the page in the area she thought might be of interest. “You are always saying you a looking for a challenge.” I focused on the page I had been handed and quickly found the item Angie was bringing to my attention. The small ad read, ‘John Franklin challenges any aspiring escapologists to escape from the ‘Death Cage’ in under five minutes. Successful challengers will receive £1000.’ And a contact phone number. Naturally, I was intrigued, so I rang the number and left a message. That evening I received an email in response, which was odd as I had only left my name, phone number and the fact that I was interested in the ‘Death Cage’ challenge. I opened the attached documentation and discovered the nature of the challenge and the safety procedures that were being put in place. The final paragraph seemed a bit odd. It simply stated, ‘If you succeed you get £1000; if you fail you get to experience magic and what your companion has experienced throughout the challenge.’ I showed the pdf to Angie to ask what she reckoned. Her assessment was, “Handcuffs behind your back, 20 seconds, no 30 seconds, because you’ll need to release both hands; neck shackle, another twenty seconds; two sets of leg shackles, 40 seconds and the cage’s padlock another thirty seconds. I make that 2 minutes. Add that on again for being underwater makes 4 minutes; so five minutes sounds do-able. Admittedly, you can only hold your breath for 3 minutes, but they’ll be providing an air-hose, so that shouldn’t be a big deal. I reckon, if you can handle the pressure of doing this for a live audience and this John Franklin character, you should go for it.” Between us we agreed that it was worth taking this challenge to the next stage, which was emailing for further details and contracts. The next evening these details arrived, but I had spent most of the day in the tank in the summer house in the garden practicing getting out of handcuffs behind my back underwater. I had even improvised an arrangement so that it would be more like the planned arrangement for the ‘Death Cage’ The details confirmed the details of the escape and the safety arrangements and the contractual obligations on both me and the John Franklin’s people. Their obligations seemed to be to provide all the equipment required at the appointed time and place, to have all the safety arrangements in place and to provide the payment if I succeed or get me out if I fail. My obligations seemed to be to turn up at the appointed place and time (at their expense), try my best to succeed at the challenge and to bring a companion with me to see fair play. There were two things that gave me slight concern; the first was they said they would be offering more challenge on the day, for more reward; and the second was they insisted I name my companion and that they sign the contract with me. The contract made clear that the extra part to the challenge was entirely optional, I guessed this would allow them to add some element of drama into the stunt; not only would I succeed or not, but would I be up for the extra challenge? I assumed the bit about naming my companion was so that they could prepare the extra paperwork, but it turned out to be more than that. After careful consideration, we signed contracts and began negotiations about times and places. We even researched who John Franklin was; it turned out that he was a small-time magician who had landed himself a series of six half hour programs and hoped to use these as stepping stones in his magical career, but he was not being entirely selfish, because he was allocating a small amount of time on each show to a specialist performer to show their stuff. I was soon booked as the specialist performer, with Angie as my companion, for his first recording, which by this stage was six weeks away. Those six weeks were a blur; when I was not working my day job or sleeping, I was in the tank practicing with the specified hand-cuffs and padlocks. The practice was paying off, I had the handcuffs, neck-shackle and leg restraints off in under three and a half minutes and the padlock to the lid of the cage should be no trouble.

The day of the challenge dawned and we travelled to the studios where the stunt was going to be recorded and got there mid-morning; the show was going to be recorded live that evening. The remainder of the morning was spent being introduced to the crew that would be supervising my escape and checking over the equipment. Then John Franklin took us out to lunch. Once the meal was ordered, he asked, “How do you envision this escape of yours going?” Naturally, I had expected some question along those lines, so I had an answer. “I’ve practiced so that I can do it in under four minutes, but as I can see the clock from inside the tank, I’ll add to the drama, by taking my time I can be out a few seconds before the five minutes is up.” “I thought you’d say something like that, which is why we added the extra challenge option to the contract. What we want is a genuine ‘Will they make it?’ situation, rather than a ‘Can they time it right?’ one.” “I, sort of, expected that was the reasoning, but if I don’t like the extra challenge aspect, I know I don’t have to accept.” “Exactly,” he confirmed. “The paperwork says that with extra challenge comes extra reward; so make your offer and we’ll consider it.” I deliberately included Angie, because she has a better idea of what I can and cannot do, especially on top of all I was already prepared for, and also because I know she worries and it makes her feel better to have her say. “Firstly, let me say you don’t have to make a decision immediately,” he began. “We’ll show you the extra equipment this afternoon and you announce what you decide at show time.” “That’s fair.” It would have been an instant ‘No!’ if I did not get to check the equipment or I was being pressed for an instant decision. “The extra challenge comes in three parts; part one is a lid on the tank, part two is your lovely companion, Angie,” he smiled at her, “shackled to the lid on the tank and part three would be withdrawal of the air hose partway through. Part one would gain you an extra thirty seconds of performance time. Part two would gain you an extra minute, because you’d need to release Angie before you could get out. And for item three we would have to work out when to remove the hose, but on the plus side, we would supply oxygen enriched air to compensate for you not being able to hyperventilate beforehand.” “So, those are the extra challenges. And the rewards?” “Well, if you accept any part of the extras we’ll pay you your original £1000 and £1000 per part you accept, plus another grand if you accept all three and we’ll double it if you succeed. So you could make as much as 10000.” “Ok, so the rewards are not insubstantial.” At this point, his mobile phone went off. He looked apologetic, but still checked it. “I’m sorry, but I’ve got to go. A friend has arrived, late as usual, and I’ve got to teach her how to act when I pass the buzzsaw through her middle.” He rose from the table and we began to rise to follow him. “No, don’t worry, you don’t need to come; I’ll make sure your meal is paid for, while I get something to take away and I’ll get someone to send a taxi to get you back to the studio. Enjoy your meal and I’m sure you have lots to discuss.” Then he caught my eye and he said, “And remember if you fail, you’ll experience magic and what your lovely companion has experienced throughout the escape.” Immediately and without a backward glance he rushed to do what he had to do and was lost from sight. I was slightly stunned, by his last remark; I certainly was not planning on failing, possibly not succeeding in time, but not failing; and reminding one of the possibility is not what one professional does to another professional. The food arrived and we ate, but it did not get the attention it probably deserved, because we were talking about the extra challenges. To my surprise, Angie seemed in favour of the lid on the tank, because the extra time it would take was less than the extra time it gave. She even seemed to be neutral about the removal of the air hose, but most resistant to being attached to the lid of the tank, which I put down to her innate shyness, rather than any concern that I might not be able to release her in order to release myself. The entire result of our talk was we would have to inspect the extra stuff before we could make a decision. At the end of the meal we left and found a taxi waiting, which got us back to the studio about the same time the crew got back from their canteen lunch. They showed us the lid for the tank, which hinged and would be held down by three padlocks, with holes in so that the padlocks could be reached. Then they showed us how the air hose withdrawal would work; there was a remote release mechanism between the actual hose and the mouthpiece which with the addition of the pumped air would produce a dramatic flurry of extra bubbles when it broke free. And finally they showed us the bars mounted on the ends of the tank that Angie could be shackled to; she would be attached to the ends of the bars away from the access holes in the tank lid, but cuffs can easily be slid along bars allowing access through the access hole for the side padlocks (hence Houdini’s remark that sometimes the challenge is keeping the restraints on until the escape starts). When we had the privacy we agreed that the lid would be a great addition and the air hose thing would be OK, as it added drama, as long as they did not do it more than two minutes before the end. Angie was most resistant to being an extra obstacle in my release; eventually she admitted she worried when I was involved in an escape and she coped by not watching and having faith in my abilities, but this would force her to confront the process of me escaping, which she knew I delayed from suspense purposes. It took me a while, but I convinced her that being more involved was the worth the extra four thousand it would gain us; I even promised her a weekend away together with part of the extra money. Once we had decided, I went to find John Franklin to relay our decision to take on the entire extra challenge. I found him talking to a very shaken-looking woman about his age (mid-twenties), who judging by her mascara had been crying a lot. I was about to convey what we had decided, when he said, “Don’t tell me, I don’t want to know until the show, but let Ben know so he can make sure the gear is ready, then get to costume and make up so that you and Angie look the part.” It took me about ten minutes to find Ben, the floor manager, and let him know what equipment would be needed. He also gave me directions on how to get to the costume department. I went back to our dressing room and we went to costume. Costume for me was simple; a swim suit in an intense blue with a couple of black lines and a fluffy white bathrobe. Costuming Angie was not anywhere near as simple; they wanted a sexy damsel-in-distress look, but Angie’s natural modesty complicated this, along with the requirement that wrists and ankles should be free of clothes so that it was clear that she was restrained and not to get in the way of my efforts to release her. In the end, she was outfitted with a white calf-length dress with a deep neckline, short sleeves and a slit up to mid-thigh, under this was a tight body-suit, which did wonders for her waist and cleavage and finally a pair of white strappy mid-height heels. She was accessorised with a necklace of what looked like pearls and matching earrings. Then it was on to make-up, where the bare minimum was done with me; foundation, eyeliner and a whole can of hair-lacquer to hold my short hair in place. Angie got the works; her fingernails and toenails were painted, fake tan was applied to all visible areas of skin, her face was made-up to match the sexy damsel-in-distress image they seemed to have in mind for Angie, much emphasis on eyes and lips and then they added more curl to her already curly hair, primarily to make sure it did not end up with it in the way. As we were leaving for a light canteen snack before the show, the head make-up lady, told Angie not to cry, because her the eye make-up would instantly turn her into a panda. The period before the show was uneventful, although I did notice some admiring glances for Angie, which I did not mention, in case it would make her reconsider her part in the stunt. At the appointed time, we were called to the wings and watched John Franklin perform the buzzsaw illusion. The woman I had seen earlier was lain on the travelling table, on top of a piece of wood that had just been sawn to show the reality of the buzzsaw, and the table travelled under the saw with the blade splitting the wood under her and appearing to pass through her bared midriff. She seemed a lot less upset than earlier, but she still eyed the rotating blade with a nervousness, which I wondered whether showed how good an actor she was or embodied a genuine uncertainty as to the outcome of having it appear to pass through her. Naturally she survived her ordeal, but seemed awed by what had happened and relieved it was over. Now it was our turn. John Franklin introduced us as people he had known for a while (which was true if five minutes in a restaurant counted). We went on and he explained the basic concept of the escape. “We suggested some additions to this escape, did you decide to go with then?” he asked. Noting that he was being vague, I paused, to give the editors a chance to ramp up the tension, before being vague right back. “Yes, we decided that we’d go with all of them, but Angie isn’t particularly happy about her part.” “Quite understandable; being an obstacle in your partner’s escape would make anyone nervous,” he commented. Then we got down to the business at hand, while John Franklin provided commentary to cover what would be, to the observer, the dull part of the procedure. First I knelt on the grid that was the base of the cage and clamps were placed over my calves and ankles held in place with padlocks, then I bent down and a collar was put round my neck and padlocked to a short chain attached to the floor of the cage. The sides of the cage were folded up and pinned in place and the top of the cage slotted into place, hinged down and the padlock put in place. The final part of me being locked into the death cage was me putting my wrists near the lid and Ben closing the handcuffs round my wrists with the chain between over the central bar of the cage’s lid, thus holding my wrists up from my back and straining my shoulders a bit. In this cramped and uncomfortable position, I was fed the air hose while two bars were attached to the cage. Four large men took an end of a bar each and lifted the entire assembly and a young lady took charge of my air supply. As soon as I was over the tank I gave a thumbs up to indicate I was ok and ready to proceed. Carefully the men lowered me into the water, while the young lady stage hand clipped the hose into position on the hinge side of the tank. The water was icy cold, which was good, because the body’s natural reaction is to restrict blood supply to the peripheral parts of the body and so preserving more oxygen for fuelling the core bodily functions, effective lowering your metabolism; the downside being that your hands go numb before too long, which is not ideal if you require them to be dexterous and sensitive. As the air began to pump with the sweet tang of added oxygen I looked up to check I could still see the clock; I could, so I made another thumbs up gesture to show I was happy to continue. The final stages of the preparations I did not see, because my view was confined to looking through the cage and the clear Plexiglas walls of the tank at the studio floor and the legs of the crew doing their jobs. First came the rush of additional cold as they poured two buckets of additional water into the tank to convince the audience I was truly submerged, this was accompanied by some muted thuds as the other two crewmen fitted and closed the tank’s lid, then the air-hose lady attached the padlocks to hold it down. More water-muffled knocks and bangs followed telling me that Angie was being shackled to the bars on top of the tank. I spent this time to remember my planned sequence of escape and generally calm my nerves, by breathing deeply to increase the oxygen in my system. A tap on the end of the tank told me that all was ready and as I wanted to get on with it I made the agreed double thumbs up to show I was ready. I glimpsed Ben’s face and then his hand holding out three fingers; the countdown had begun and I was already moving my lockpicking tool from where I had it palmed to the tips of my fingers. One of Ben’s fingers folded away, then another and finally the entire hand was taken out of my sight; the escape had begun. To aid my concentration I closed my eyes and took a moment to concentrate on the planned sequence of the escape, then I began the dramatic thrashing about; given my constrained position it was not much, but is served to cover the fact I was using the pick to release the handcuffs. Ten seconds can seem like an eternity, but it took me that long to find the key hole in my cuff, partly because Ben had put the cuffs on my wrists so that the hole I was looking for was on the wrong side. A quick check confirmed it would be easier to transfer the pick and release the other wrist first so that’s what I did. With one cuff released, I opened my eyes to check the time on the clock, while I transferred the pick back to the now uncuffed hand; forty-three seconds; where has all that time gone, I am usually out of the first cuff in about twenty five seconds. I put it down to the minor problem with the orientation of the cuff and possibly nerves, and took another deep breathe from the air hose. I closed my eyes again and tackled the other cuff. With the picking hand free it is not to long before the second hand is free. Another time check, One minute nineteen seconds; I think I must have missed something, but I still had a little over five minutes for eight padlocks and four more sets of cuffs, but now I could work with both hands and the strain between my shoulder blades had eased. I moved to start on the neck shackle, but noticed a camera through the glass of the tank and paused to give a smile, which I hoped said, ‘I am doing ok, but not as ok as I had hoped,’ and a brief thumbs up, before continuing to release myself from the bottom of the cage. I grabbed the padlock holding the neck shackle to the chain in my left hand and fitted the pick into the keyhole. A few jiggles and it was open but I bumped my elbow on the side of the tank and accidentally snapped it back shut. Rats! A little more circumspectly, I released the neck padlock again. The original plan had been to remove the collar once it was released, despite this seeming to be unnecessary, but it would fill time to make the escape seem more life and death at the end without me floating about doing nothing. I decided with the two mistakes that had already been made that it would be a waste of time, so I just skooched back a bit to get easier access to the last four padlocks holding me to the cage. While I reached for the first of these I looked at the time again. Two minutes and thirteen seconds! I knew I had lost a bit of time but that seemed a lot. Was I missing something? Was there too much added oxygen? I’d heard that an excess of added oxygen can impair your faculties, like being drunk, but surely they would not do that. ‘Concentrate!’ I told myself. I went to work on the padlocks holding my legs to floor of the cage. I soon had both my calves free and the shackles open so I could sit back even further to make it easier to reach the ankle shackles. I decided on another time check in the hope that I could calm myself a bit by seeing that I had made back some of the time I had lost. As I looked up the clock ticked over to three minutes; good, but not great, I had not lost any further time, but not gained any either. As I leaned back and worked on my ankle restraints, I closed my eyes once more. Another bump of an elbow on the side of the cage reminded me that I should be more careful to avoid needing to pick these locks twice. The first padlock fell away, so onto the second, but where was it? A feel about told me that in my thrashing about it had changed position and was jammed under my buttock. I changed position and repositioned the lock so that I could pick it. Once I had it in my grasp it fell away with a few deft movements of the pick I still had in my hand. ‘Stay calm!’ only four locks on the lids and the cuffs restraining Angie to go. Another look at the time, which I was rapidly feeling was becoming the enemy. Three minutes fifty-two seconds! ‘Surely it can’t have taken that long.’ I felt the edge of panic, so I paused to just breathe the enriched air which I knew I would be losing in another minute. I turned on my side and felt the hinge of the neck shackle catch on one of the bars of the cage; maybe not removing it had been a bad idea after all. I looked towards the audience, feeling certain that they could see me; I could not see them, or even the cameras, because it seemed my movements had splashed water through the holes in the lid and water was running down the outside of the tank. I looked up and saw that the skirt of Angie’s dress was soaked and the added weight had pulled on the rest it opening up the slit to show more leg than she would be comfortable with. ‘I bet she looks good,’ I thought. ‘Don’t get distracted!’ I admonished myself, ‘Focus!’ My hand found the padlock securing the cage shut and it was soon open and removed to join the other five padlocks on the tank floor. Another change of position and I could reach through the access hole in the lid of the tank between Angie’s ankles. Reaching through, I snagged the lock and positioned it so I could quickly have it undone once I had changed hands. As I changed hands the neck shackle once again bumped against the cage’s bars, causing a small loss of precious momentum. Nonetheless, I reached through and the lock fell open at my touch and I unhooked it and tossed it away. I took another look at the timer to find out how soon I was going to lose my air supply; I did not want to be surprised by the sudden flurry of bubbles when the air hose broke away at the agreed time of five minutes and three seconds. The clock showed four minutes and fifty-five. While I reached for the second lid padlock I counted in my head to be ready; I had reached six when I felt the change in the texture of the water and shortly after a light thump on my back as the air-hose snaked its way out of the tank. I spat out the now useless mouth piece and grimaced for the camera I knew would be watching for a reaction. I had hoped to already be releasing Angie at this point. The second padlock was soon thrown away and I was reaching for the third; the one between Angie’s restrained wrists. This was positioned and unlocked in a matter of another ten seconds. Time was getting tight. I had just over a minute to release four cuffs and get out of the tank. I considered changing the plan again; the fine print said I had to release Angie’s wrists before her ankles, so she could not get off the tank lid and open it for me before she was properly released. I was thinking about unlocking her ankles first and taking whatever penalty was due, but Angie already had slid one wrist to where I could get to it. I decided that rather than cause Angie more concern by changing the plan, I would have to proceed as planned. Angie was shaking with nerves which made the fiddly job of releasing the first cuff a little trickier, but it was soon done and another wrist presented. While I was liberating Angie’s other wrist, I saw something happening out of the corner of my eye. Between us and the cameras John Franklin and Ben were holding up a deep red cloth. Even before I had finished the cuff I was working on I had a last glimpse of the timer; it showed six minute and two seconds. Then as the cuff opened, the cloth settled over the tank; I was now in darkness. I mentally cursed John Franklin and crew for cheating as I turned inside the cage to release Angie’s ankles which I knew she would have in position for me, despite the added distraction. I reached through and instantly found the cuff on her left ankle. I began to hear, muffled by the water the beeps that indicated the last ten seconds. Then I dropped my pick; the coldness of the water had taken its toll at last. As I heard the electronic beeps countdown the final seconds of the challenge, I was groping for the dropped picking-tool. I was resigned to failing the challenge, but there would be very little to do to rescue me, just finish releasing Angie’s legs and open the lids. I would have acquitted myself well and if it had not been for several avoidable mistakes I could well have succeeded. The final beep seemed so much louder than the previous nine. I realised my head had gone swimmy for a moment. Things were different from what they were a moment ago; I was out of the water, but still under the cloth. Instinct told me that I was now on the lid of the tank and that I should get off. I rolled off onto the floor in the direction of the audience; there was a hush that seemed to ask, ‘What is going to happen now?’ I struggled from the folds of the cloth to see what was going on. And was greeted with a small cheer, which suddenly stopped as they noticed something that I had not yet. I turned and looked at the tank, expecting to see both lids open, but they were both shut. How had I got out without opening the lids? Then I noticed the lids were once again padlocked. Then the key thing I had missed hit me; inside the cage in the tank full of water was Angie, shackled exactly as I had been. “Get her out of there!” I yelled, but the crew were already rushing toward the tank, with keys and lifting bars in hand. I felt the urge to rush forward and help, but realised that I would only be in the way; I felt so helpless. Angie was desperately trying to move to release herself, but all these constrained movements contrived to do was cause her hair and skirt to float about her. As the padlocks holding the lid of the tank were released, I was hoping Angie had not breathed in any water when she unexpectedly found herself underwater. I hoped she was not drowning while I watched totally impotent to help her in any way. Much to my relief, the lid slammed open and the four men who had lowered me into that tank of cold water, began to attach the bars to the lid of the cage. At this point I suddenly wished that the lid was locked, because if it was loose the whole cage would jam in the tank and delay the time when my Angie would be able to breathe again. I took half a step toward the tank, thinking I would check, but then John Franklin took hold of me and said, “There’s nothing you can do, rely on them to do their jobs and don’t interfere.” It took a huge effort of will to take that totally correct advice. When the men had hoisted the cage from the tank, I took what I realised was the first breathe since my yell, my head seemed to have a dull ache. As the cage touched the floor, John Franklin let go of my arm and I rushed to see that Angie was alright. She was breathing heavily with her hair plastered to her face and the skirt clinging to her legs. It took the crew nearly a minute to release Angie and she stumbled into my arms; during this time I took a little time to bless the foresight of the costume department for making Angie wear the body suit under the dress or she would have been rather more exposed than she thought. The air hose lady came up with two white fluffy dressing gowns and we were bustled off stage.

Once in our dressing room, I had time to consider what had occurred. While I felt my failure to escape in the allotted time was my fault, Angie ending up lock and shackled in the cage underwater was entirely down to John Franklin and his team and all the worse for not let us know it was a possible scenario. I was becoming angry, but could not think what to do about it. Eventually, getting dry and changing into our own clothes became the priority. Finally I asked Angie, “What happened?” “I don’t quite know. I saw you drop the pick in the dim light under the cloth they flung over us as the beeping from the timer started, I was about to reach forward and put it in your hand, when just before the final beep, I took a very deep breath and was suddenly in the water with my neck and shins shackled to the base of the cage. I’ve never been so frightened. At least I had the presence of mind to hold my breath until they rescued me; I never realised it was so hard.” “Me?” I said, “I’ve never felt so helpless; wanting to help you, but being totally unable to, in fact if I had got any closer I would probably have delayed them getting you out, which feels doubly helpless.” “That’s kind of how I feel, every time you are doing any remotely dangerous escape. You know, trying to help would probably worse than standing back and hoping.” “I guess that’s what Franklin meant when he said something about me feeling what you feel while I escape. And if you believe in magic that swimmy feeling in my head when it happen must have been it. I guess we were kind of warned, but very obliquely. He’d better have a good explanation or I’ll not be answerable for my actions. Make that a very, verrrry good explanation.” We sat and wondered if we could get a cup of tea, while the adrenalin subsided. About ten minutes later. John Franklin knock on the door and entered. Before he could open his mouth, I said, “This had better be good, because we are not happy and if we don’t leave happy, we’ll be suing you for breach of contract for as much as we can get.” His smile faltered for maybe half a second, while considered what line would best keep him and his reputation from being dragging through the mud. “What a performance! You certainly earned your ten grand.” For a moment, I wondered what he was talking about, so I asked aggressively. “You were marvellous,” he said. “I auditioned some professionals, but they had nothing on you. They were too smooth to make the illusion look credible. But you with the couple of fumbles made it look truly death-defying and you were incredibly fast; if we hadn’t tweaked the timer to run fifty percent faster, you’d have been out long before the time limit and the magic couldn’t have happened.” For a moment part of my brain did the maths. I had got to the point I had got to in a few seconds over four minutes even with all the extra obstacles and recovering the pick and undoing the last of Angie’s shackles would not have taken the whole of the final minute of the original challenge. I was mentally patting myself on the back, when another part of my mind reminded me that my failure to finish in the allotted time was not my beef with Mr Franklin, but the fact he had tried to drown Angie. “Now I understand why you say I earned the money, but what about what happened next? Angie was completely unprepared for her dunking, possibly near drowning.” I looked at Angie for confirmation and support; she looked sheepish instead. “I wasn’t totally unprepared, but I had been warned I would end up in the water.” “When?” I challenged. “When I rang my cousin John to congratulate him on getting his TV deal. I wished him well and expressed some disappointment that I was failing to let you know how stressful your ‘hobby’ was for me. He suggested that he could help, if I was prepared to seem in danger and arrange that you get involved. He called the illusion ‘The Drowning Pool’; it took me some time to find it, ‘coz there’s a band called the same thing that gets the top hits when I searched on YouTube, but once I understood the concept it seemed like the only way to make you see how bad it makes me feel to be helpless while you escape.” “You’re right!” I admitted, “I’ve been selfish in not considering how you feel when I do my thing. I’ll give it up, if you ask me to.” “Before today I’d have said, ‘Yes, please give up escapology.’ But having been in the spotlight and properly the centre of attention, rather than just someone who came along with you. I have some idea of the buzz you get from it. I want to join you in escaping; you can train me. I’ll probably never be as good as you, but together we could be better than anyone.” John interjected, “You are the best amateur I have ever seen.” “Do you really mean that?” I asked looking at Angie, she nodded. “You know I love you?” She nodded again; she seemed almost at the point of tears. “Angie, will you marry me?” She closed the two paces between us, said, “Of course, I will, Brenda!” and we hugged until we were out of breath.

Silent Street

Tue, 18 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Silent Street is one of the ancient thoroughfares in the town of Ipswich in Suffolk, England. No one knows for certain how the name came about, but one theory is that, during an outbreak of plague in 1665, the death toll amongst the residents of this street was particularly high, and thereafter the area fell ‘silent’. The story below, however, gives a more modern twist as to why the name might be apt!

Dungeon Museum

Sun, 09 Jun 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part one

Part 2

My mind wandered as I knelt in my bondage; I had played with self-bondage before but never to the point where I couldn’t release myself in moment’s notice and never with any chance of been discovered. But now I had leaped without thinking into situation that I realised was ridiculously dangerous. I didn’t know Elif at all and here I was butt naked in inescapable bondage awaiting punishment. How could I be so stupid? How could I let my curiosity override my basic common sense?

Jinni’s Day of Training

Wed, 03 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Jinni had been adept in self bondage for years, enjoying her forced silence, only using the most severe gags she could find, to ensure she had her quiet time by herself. Relying either on her skill of moving her bound body to her release or on one of the several timed released methods she had come to trust. After the only time she ever had a release fail completely and had to be saved by her downstairs neighbor did Jinni find out how nice it could be to have another like minded person involved in her bondage.

The New Girls Secret

Wed, 03 Apr 2019 00:00:00 +0000

Chapter 1: The New Girls Secret

My name is Amy Goodwin I am 32years old. I live in a 2 bedroom flat on top of the pub below, Granvilles. I work in an office typing up the minutes for the government. It pay’s well enough for me to live comfortably. I live a healthy lifestyle keeping myself fit. I have long brunette hair, green eyes, and have a slim but curvaceous figure with long leg’s large but firm butt and I have a 36DDbust. It was at work when I met the new girl Sarah. Sarah had just started and as we work at the same station we struck up a friendship.

Phoenix

Sun, 10 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part five

Part 6: The Birthday Treat

We drove for a while, my disorientation rendering time and distance as mere abstract concepts. Eventually the smooth road noise changed to a gravelly crunch for a while before the car drew to a stop.

It was raining even heavier, quite torrential. I felt the heavy drops hitting my rubber shell as if I were stood beneath a particularly powerful shower.

Phoenix

Sun, 10 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part four

Part 5: Objectified Slave

It was another couple of days until I heard from Anya again. But this time her minion was not the courier, but Mel from Surrender. She came to the office dressed very conservatively and business like, not a hint of her kinky side was evident. She had come under the pretence of delivering some information for a case I was working on. The receptionist pointed her in my direction and she elegantly glided over while the office Meerkats did little to disguise their admiration of her beauty, so pathetic.

Phoenix

Sun, 10 Mar 2019 00:00:00 +0000

story continued from part two

Part 3: The Club

At around 10pm the taxi pulled up outside an innocuous brick building.

“Are you sure this is the right place?” I scanned the area with trepidation.

It was an old area of the city. The full moon provided just enough light to see, the elongated shadows gave the area a disconcerting feel.

“Yup, this is it”

“Will you wait a moment while I make sure?”

The Gamble

Sat, 23 Feb 2019 00:00:00 +0000

If You haven’t read the first part of The Gamble I would recommend it. The following might make more sense that way.

Part Two

I had to try to insert it three times into the padlock due to my trembling hands but it slid in easily enough and when I twisted the key I received a click and the padlock opened releasing the chain from my collar. The relief was enough for me to fall to my knees and to start crying again, but this time out of happiness.

Dungeon Museum

Mon, 17 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

A week of chaperoning a class of high school kids around a bunch of museums and art gallery in Istanbul; what could be easier.

Especially with the fact that this was a History trip and I’m a PE teacher, so all I had to do was make sure we didn’t leave any kids behind.

So, for the past 3 days all I had been doing was counting to 24, after 3 other teachers had counted to 24. I was dying of boredom and to make matters worse we were staying in a Hotel in Arnavutkoy, miles away from the centre of Istanbul. So, my evenings were filled with unruly teenagers with nothing to do and the endless droning of the history / art faculty debating some pointless topic from the day’s events. All I could think was ‘Welcome to Hell’. 3 days down 4 to go.

At the Charity Dinner

Sun, 09 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

“Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. I am your magician for the evening,” the guy on the small stage announced. “Most of the evening I shall be doing small tricks for people at their tables, but if anyone wants to see or volunteer for any of the well known stage illusions or even request something that has not been seen, you will find small note pads on your tables; just write me a note and hand it to your waitress and I’ll see if I can oblige. I hope to do two or three items of magic on this stage for all this evening.”

Cold Day Mistake

Sun, 09 Dec 2018 00:00:00 +0000

It had dropped into the twenties here in the south and to us that’s cold so I knew I would be forced to wear my thermal under wear to work something I didn’t like to do so I thought that maybe I would make it more fun by using the temperature as an excuse to add some “layers”. The idea hit me in the shower so there was no pre-planning involved thus causing what should have been my first warning sign. After drying off and getting more aroused at the idea of being encased for the day, in public, at work and really stuck in whatever I wore drove me to start out by opening the drawer that held my chastity devices. I rarely wore one of these to work because of the type of work I do, the chance to be hurt or rendered unconscious is always a possibility making me leery of being caught chastised. But this morning I thought screw it, I had done it before so again feeling daring I opted for the small steel unit and after some grunting and lotion had it locked tightly around my cock and balls.

The Gamble

Sun, 27 May 2018 00:00:00 +0000

I was walking along the dirt track in my thin cheap flip flops, wearing a short skirt that covered my chastity belt, that locked a butt-plug into my ass and rigid dildo in my pussy. Under the thin t-shirt top I wore my metal chastity bra completely covering my pert breasts. The only thing that was seen and that was a bit out of the ordinary was my stainless steel collar that fit tightly around my neck and that had a d-ring at its front. The keys to my chastity devices were at home in an envelope on my dinner table with a letter explaining were I had gone, including the GPS coordinates, and what I would do when I got there.

Hot and Cold

Sat, 27 Jan 2018 00:00:00 +0000

It’s nearly dark outside, but still very warm. It had been the perfect day, sunny and hot with low humidity, making tonight the perfect night for the predicament bondage I’ve been planning for weeks. I had turned off the air conditioner earlier, and left the windows open while I prepared, so the bedroom is nice and warm. The fans turning slowly at the top of the high, peaked ceiling and a light evening breeze coming through the windows will keep the room from becoming too uncomfortable, and the heat will provide the ideal contrast to the torment I have planned! I drink some more water because I know I will be sweating in a few minutes!

Self-bondage Adventures

Sat, 02 Dec 2017 00:00:00 +0000

Author’s Note: The following is a previous account of true events I’ve discussed as posts and comments in the Gromet’s Plaza Forum. I have attempted to edit the content slightly to make it more readable in story-form. The following story is 100% true.

Self-bondage Adventures Part 1: Keyholding

i. the background

Before I begin, I’d like to give a little background information about my self-“bondage” habits. I put bondage in quotes because I like it a little different than the ordinary. I like to put on corsets among layers of tight compression-wear, and then lock it all on with a padlock through the zipper of a unitard/catsuit.

My Scary Selfbondage Mistake

Sun, 06 Aug 2017 00:00:00 +0000

One summer night not too long ago, I endulged myself in a self bondage session in my back yard. As I do this very often, I was very experienced and had become over confident in my kinky habit. Normally I would plan my session and test that everything goes to plan, hopefully, and then proceed to actually lock myself into my predicament.

You should know, every story I post on here is 100% true unless stated otherwise. This is one of those true stories I have to tell that I almost didn’t get to tell.

The Party to Start it All

Thu, 23 Feb 2017 00:00:00 +0000

I have written a story about how my and now missus got together and how it all started for me. It is my first time writing. I hope you enjoy it.

The day had arrived. The day of my birthday. I’m going to be that big 30. My best friend (Harley, 30, blonde), arranged a little party for me. As the day approached I was told there was only one stipulation. Everyone had to fancy dress with a twist. The fancy dress had to be something of the opposite sex. So as a male, I had to fancy dress as a female.

Penny’s Chains 2

Sun, 11 Oct 2015 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Where We Left Off From Part 1…

Penny was finally able to pursue her fantasies in her own home. She had been able to purchase a condo with a basement. With no roommates to worry about, she had bound herself naked, with chains and padlocks. After all, there was no one to pull the rope around her wrists and knot it tight, so the padlocks would have to do.

Penny’s Chains

Fri, 21 Aug 2015 00:00:00 +0000

Box Load of Padlocks, Just What This Girl Needs

Penny thought to herself, “I must get these” as she looked over a box of high quality padlocks at an estate sale. All the locks had been set to open with the same key. The original owner had rescued those locks from the factory where he worked, and now they were sitting in his garage, waiting for the right buyer to come along. She had gone to this estate sale on a lark. It was a warm Saturday morning, and it seemed like it would be good entertainment.

Laura’s Awakening

Sun, 21 Dec 2014 00:00:00 +0000

For a while now I had been seeing a girl who was it has to be said a bit dull. No real sex drive to speak about, and certainly no inclination for anything to do with bondage. This had caused the whole relationship to end up in a right pickle. No matter what people say if you have a kink, then no matter how hard you try eventually it will always come to the surface, and let’s face it who wants to live with regrets of not trying something? Not me for sure.

Moving Stuff

Wed, 05 Nov 2014 00:00:00 +0000

What started as a boring day took an interesting twist. Having bought yet more equipment we were forced to take a bigger storage locker at the big yellow self store. It’s all well and good having all the kit but storage is a problem especially for some of the larger pieces!

I had telephoned and arranged to take a unit four times the size, we currently had a small 5ft x 5ft locker which was packed to the top with stuff. Straitjackets, boxes of cuff’s and shackles, you know the usual stuff one stores at these centers ;-)

Got Toys? Don't Leave Home Without Them!

Fri, 03 Oct 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Harry had somewhat reluctantly agreed to participate in his wife’s insistence on another beach vacation. “Seen one beach, you’ve seen them all,” he admonished her during the early planning stages. “Look, honey, Mexico’s got some really great deals at all-inclusive resorts. We’ll all be pampered to death, isn’t that exciting?” she responded.

And so it began. The couple’s teenage daughters enthusiastically joined in the frenzy of anticipation of massages, poolside socializing, free night club entry, & an assortment of restaurants to explore at the expansive resort property. Harry acquiesced, although he was really more of a mountain hiker kind of guy than a pool or beachside lounger. Snorkeling adventures were an option he could enjoy, however, he figured.

The Jacket

Mon, 08 Sep 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Some time ago my partner Vicki had bought us an all leather strait-jacket. It was custom made in Pakistan and we had now been waited a few weeks for its delivery. We had asked for a few extras such as replacement of the standard lining with a high quality leather. Additional straps down the arms both above the elbow and at the wrist, all the buckles were locking so they looked like a normal roller buckle but had a little eye at the end of the prong that once fastened would accept a padlock so the jacket could be locked on.

Caged Self Bondage

Thu, 07 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

This story is true. A friend whom I met on the plaza forum and I are involved and well understand each other’s situation and have great rapport. Here’s our story.

Hey Metal. Glad to be able to submit (pun intended) this description of how we play the game. My partner Jack lives far away so real life meetings are few. Therefore when we need a bit of bondage, we have to coordinate carefully. But if no contact is possible, any keys to freedom are locked in a box with a combo lock under the popular program Timelock for some random period of time.

Thanks a Lot eBay!

Sat, 02 Aug 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Sitting at my desk bored at work, I should explain before I go any further that I own the company so basically I can do what I want! I decided to kill a few hours on eBay to see what exciting things are being traded. I love nothing more than to find a bargain, and today must have been my lucky day! After no more than twenty minutes I came across an auction that intrigued me and perked my kinky interests. There were no pictures, and only a brief description which read:

It's Fricken Freezing in Here Mr. Bigglesworth

Sun, 11 May 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Part I

A Sirius and Tonya Adventure

“Hey! Guess what?” Tonya was talking before she was in the room. “Guess, guess, guess!”

“No” Sirius was not amused.

“No? …. You have to guess.” She was beginning to get pouty.

“You want to adventure” Sirius flatly replied.

“No silly. I want to … heeeyyy. You weren’t supposed to know.” She sounded genuinely disappointed and got a little poutier.

“You always want to adventure, what else is new?” Sirius had a wry smile behind her monotone response. She knew Tonya always wanted an adventure, but this time, Sirius had a different plan. “So kiddo, what’s your crazy idea this time?”

The Longest Restraint 3: Prisoner in my Own Home

Fri, 07 Feb 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Part 3: Prisoner in my Own Home

I was woken from my sleep by a knock on the door, laying there I stretched out my arms above me and found myself laying in my bed in one of my satin naughties with the covers draped over me, was I dreaming about the night before? About calling a man I barely knew Master? About being taken so forcefully and loving every second of it? I started to look around for signs and there it was again, that knock on the door. I got up out of my bed and went down the stairs. After opening the door I was pleasantly surprised to see a delivery boy there holding a bunch of flowers.

The Longest Restraint 2: My Hooded Claw

Sat, 01 Feb 2014 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part one

Part 2: My Hooded Claw

The alarm went off bang on nine and I lay there looking at it dazed. I didn’t need to get up as it was my day off but I remembered that I have dinner date to get ready for, as I moved I realised that I was still gagged tightly, my wrists still bound behind me, the collar still locked securely around my neck and my ankles chained together and locked to the foot board of the bed. I could feel the vibrating egg inside me, the batteries must have died out as there was no buzzing or feeling of vibration.

The Longest Restraint

Sun, 19 Jan 2014 00:00:00 +0000

Part 1

It was a normal day off from my activities of work. I couldn’t call upon my friends as they had all gone away for the week to Amsterdam to sample some of the illegal ’legals’ that couldn’t be obtained over in England without arrest and a court hearing. I was supposed to be going, but my passport ran out shortly before, so I was well and truly gutted.

The Fetish Party

Sun, 04 Aug 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Tonight it was time again. The monthly fetish party. I had just gotten back home from work when the phone rang. It was Shannon, a close friend not only in life but in the fetish scene as well. She just wanted to know when she could come over and get dressed for tonight’s venture. The reason for this was that she still lived at home with her parents and that they didn’t quite accept her lifestyle when it came to “dressing up like a hooker in public” as they put it. I had always had open minded parents so I had no problem with this and the fact that I had gotten an apartment of my own just amplified the reason for dressing up at my place.

Caught & Punished

Thu, 04 Jul 2013 00:00:00 +0000

“What the hell do you think………..what!”

There, laying, no struggling, on the bed was a bundle of shiny black, with what looked like chains and padlocks, glinting, rattling, and incomprehensible grunting, almost sobbing, coming from within.

She moved closer, she grabbed a length of chain and pulled, the struggling froze, “Is that you in there?”

The blubbering and sobbing continued with a ‘double grunt’ as confirmation, “Well well well, lets take a look”.

The Release Part 3

Thu, 13 Jun 2013 00:00:00 +0000

story continues from part two

Part 3

I have to just calm down and prepare for my day at work. I won’t be able to concentrate and I am already developing a headache from the frustration and tears. I haven’t even left for work yet. I drag my body upstairs and get dressed. I feel wore out already. I go back to the kitchen and take the metal container and put it in a cup with warm water. It may be able to melt by the time I get home.

Going Home 2: Patience is the Key

Thu, 09 May 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Please visit my blog for Amanda’s Information/CG representation (under adult fiction) or to get the latest information about the new collectible card game Solo Bound Female at http://madhatter815.blogspot.com. Thank you. Continued from part one

Part 2: Patience is the Key

When last we left Amanda, she was naked with her wrists cuffed behind her back and her ankles similarly locked together. She recently discovered that her keys were outside; they were in her skirt pocket and now her skirt was drying in the warm summer breeze. To make matters worse, her spare keys were still in the trunk of her car which was inconveniently parked out in front of the house. What’s a girl to do?

Going Home 1: Rude Awakening

Thu, 07 Mar 2013 00:00:00 +0000

Please visit my blog for more story details or to get the latest information about the new collectible card game Solo Bound Female at http://madhatter815.blogspot.com. Thank you.

Part 1: Rude Awakening

Amanda hadn’t moved far from home since graduating college. Why would she? She could visit her parent’s townhouse whenever she liked whether it was just to say hi or to mooch off her mom with her home cooking. Either way, her childhood home easily trumped the tiny little studio she was renting right now.

The Party

Mon, 24 Dec 2012 00:00:00 +0000

You look back at your clunker of a car, mentally kicking yourself for not agreeing to the lift you were offered before you left. Now here you are, dressed for a night on the town, not for a walk in the country in the pre dawn.

It started like a normal evening. The invite to the vicar’s and tarts party had arrived last week and you had barely been able to contain yourself with anticipation. Your partner had elected to remain at home (never one for socialising at the best of times, let alone in fancy dress) so you had busied yourself getting the perfect outfit together. Never being one who was shy of your figure, most of your outfits were quite revealing but nothing seemed to set the right tone. However, while shopping, you had come across the perfect dress. Black leather, halter necked, scoping between your breasts and ending no more than an inch below your bottom. Not something to be worn to a meeting with the boss, but for a party where everyone was going to be looking like a tart (or a vicar) perfect.

Eileen’s Woodland Story

Sat, 08 Sep 2012 00:00:00 +0000

I’ve had a lot of memorable adventures. I’m an avid crossdresser, so being bound while wearing at least hosiery and leotards is natural for me, affording me the most eroticism and intense sensations. One time, I dressed up wearing black Lycra tights and a black short-sleeved Lycra leotard. Underneath the leotards, I had on a pair of old tights, with the crotch-lining cut out for my head to pass through. This way my arms were covered, and my hands were covered like thumbless mittens, making finger dexterity difficult. To complete the ensemble, I wore black 4 inch heeled shoes. This made walking interesting, especially on a surface I planned to be on.

The Week At Home

Fri, 26 Aug 2005 00:00:00 +0000

Don had to go to Hong Kong to see a client, so early that morning I had driven him to the airport to catch his plane. As so often happens there was a delay and we had to hang about the terminal until after lunch. As a result it was the middle of the afternoon before I got home. I still had the bed to make, house to tidy, the ironing to do and generally to get organised for starting another week’s work in the morning. Oh how I hate Mondays!

My Thing

Tue, 16 Dec 2003 00:00:00 +0000

True - Real Life - My “Thing” I have been hooked on Self Bondage from my early teens. To this day I have never shared my fantasies with anyone. I am a single thirty-two years old female with a catalogue of bad relationships behind me. Through out the years my self-bondage activities have been a constant source of stress relief and fulfilment for me. I have always been careful when planning a scene for myself but despite this have had some scary moments. I have found methods of self-inflecting forced orgasms, Climax delay and frustration, which has lasted up to 48 hours. One method I use a lot in public goes as follows. I start the day before by skipping lunch and supper. I drink only high-energy drinks and lots of water. Early next morning I empty my bowels and about two hours later have an enema to flush out as much material as possible. An hour later I use the bathroom again and then am ready to go. The equipment I use is very basic. Butt plug, 3 feet of heavy chain, 6 inches of light chain, padlocks and a pair of tight Levi jeans. I lube the plug fully and also squeeze some into my butt hole as the plug is going to inside me for some time. I put on my jeans; this takes a while, as they are so tight. I have to use a wire coat hanger through the zip to pull it up and also use a hanger through the button hole to help close it. Many times I have almost given up in exhaustion trying to get the button closed. The feeling of the plug and the tight jeans almost make me cum every time.

Putting my Toys Away

Wed, 22 May 2002 00:00:00 +0000

A few days ago my roommate was telling me how he wished I could leave him for a long-term session. Now little did he know that I was listening to him. My roommate is six foot three and little over two hundred pounds where as I’m only five foot six and just around one hundred twenty-five pounds. I help him play his game and in return I get the house, video game and lots of peace in quiet. This is a true story I’m writing as it happens to him.