## Spring Break Selfbondage F/Solo

Post by Devious.agent » Tue Sep 01, 2015 3:04 pm

I'm linking this story to my Deviantart profile. I'm kind of new to posting stories like this, so any feedback would be amazing. I have two stories done, but I can also re-post the entirety of the text here if people would prefer that. All the stories are pretty lengthy, which is why I was hesitant to just post it all at once.
Thanks.
http://petercopter.deviantart.com/journ ... -557108601

### Re: Spring Break Selfbondage F/Solo

Post by xtc » Tue Sep 01, 2015 3:09 pm

I suggest posting the text here.
If the story is too long, you can always post it as a series of replies but I think the limit is lower on DA than it is on here (approx. 6000 words I THINK.)
Boxer shorts are cool,
but little speedos rule!
More by the same author: viewtopic.php?f=5&t=22729

### Re: Spring Break Selfbondage F/Solo

Post by Devious.agent » Tue Sep 01, 2015 3:16 pm

Alright, here it is:
Sarah's Spring Break Selfbondage: Part One
Sarah was a high school senior from Illinois. She had attended a private school her full four years and after she turned 18, she had decided on which college she wanted to go to, and how she wanted to live out of state to explore what was beyond her familiar realm. She was 5' 9", slender but not skinny, and had ample breasts and shapely hips. She had pale, white skin and black hair that she often left straight or slightly curly and never let it go much past her shoulders. She had her share of boyfriends throughout high school, but none of them really did it for her. She was intelligent and quiet, but not shy in the slightest.
From her high school days, Sarah had been fascinated by escape artists. She read up voraciously on Harry Houdini, on how he would escape sometimes dozens of different metal restraints: handcuffs, leg irons, chains, padlocks. It was something that consumed her, but subconsciously she never found the impulse to share her special interest with anyone else, not even a best friend. It wasn't until after she left for college that it wasn't being an escape artist that she was so passionately into: it was the urge, the thrill of being tied up with heavy, inescapable restraints and being challenged to escape them.
Because Sarah would not tell a soul about her private fantasies of being left alone somewhere, chained hand and foot, she considered doing it herself. She would practice in her bedroom with a pair of those toy metal handcuffs with a safety catch, should sudden escape become necessary. The toy cuffs were small enough to conceal in any part of her room, in case her parents would wonder why a pair of handcuffs were laying out in the open. She would relish every moment of the steel bracelets holding her, every "click" of the cuffs as she closed them one at a time behind her back, or whatever position she tried. She often found her eyes rolling back into her head from the unexpected feeling of ecstasy, of losing control.
Soon, she acquired another pair of handcuffs, this time the real deal, with a push pin locking system to keep the cuffs from closing any tighter. She would wait like usual for her parents to depart for the day to handcuff herself to the metal frame of her bed. It was exhilarating, and soon she found she became wet from the feeling of being bound to her bed helplessly. She would sometimes take the real handcuffs and apply them to her ankles, tightening them as much as possible and then locking them with the push pin mechanism to keep them from damaging her tendons and ligaments.
She would steal strips of duct tape from a roll in her dad's garage and use them to cover her mouth. She muffled her bondage-induced moaning with the grey tape and even thought about buying a formal gag. It was hard to ignore seeing "light" bondage equipment like ballgags and handcuffs being portrayed in the Fifty Shades of Grey-themed ads she would stumble upon online. It was here where she typed into her search bar, "How to tie yourself up." And this is where she descended into her private realm of self-bondage.
Sarah learned about all the different techniques, like rope ties and freezing a key in a block of ice, allowing the user their freedom upon it melting. She liked the permanence and aesthetic of using metal cuffs. She marveled at the use of medieval-type restraints some models were wearing. She stuck to what she could afford, and what could be readily hidden, so she purchased a pair of police leg shackles with keys that happened to be in an antique mall case one day. "It's for a...a school play," she nervously told the clerk.
One thing that captured her attention was the idea of breathplay, of adding another element of suspense to her bondage. It was thrilling enough avoiding exposure and being caught, especially by her parents, but it was even more intriguing making it a race against time before your air supply ran out. She found articles about nooses and plastic bags and even a small niche of underwater bondage, all tantalizing but impractical for what she was trying to accomplish, and conceal from her parents. She kept those thoughts in the back of her mind for a later day, when discovery would not be as much of an issue.
Sarah liked the sensation she felt from the cold metal cuffs encircling her bare ankles. Sometimes, she would do normal house chores wearing the leg shackles while there was no one else in the house. As she sat on her white carpeted floor in her ankle cuffs and white shorts that barely covered her buttocks, she drew one of her cuffed ankles toward her and held that cuff in her right hand. She gave a wry smile and wondered how helpless she could make herself if she was creative enough.
Removing her shirt and leaving her in just her short shorts and a white bra, she lay down on the floor on her stomach, her bare feet outstretched behind her. She leaned up and reached onto her bed and felt for her handcuffs, the real ones. She slid them from off the top of her bed and used her thumb to push the ratchet through and around, opening one of the cuffs. She cuffed her left wrist and then swung her arm around her back, grabbing a hold of the other cuff with her right hand.
She exhaled, knowing exactly what she was going to do. She withdrew her legs so her heels touched her buttocks, and grabbed the chain linking her ankle cuffs together. She felt wet with anticipation. Sarah pulled on the chain and took the open cuff with her right hand, twisting it around the ankle cuffs chain. She took a deep breath before pushing the ratchet of the right cuff around and maneuvering her right wrist to fit inside it. She grabbed a hold of the right cuff with her left hand and started applying pressure to the ratchet.
Click...click...click...click. She slowly pushed the ratchet in, making its grip around her wrist tighter and tighter. A few more clicks and she had achieved what she had wanted: a handcuff hogtie, or hogcuff. Sarah let her leg muscles relax and suddenly the weight and movement of her legs attempting to straighten pulled her arms back and her chest up off the ground. She gasped, then smiled and laughed at the realization that she was really tied up tight.
She would relax one leg, causing it to pull on the long chain and bring her other leg up to her buttocks. She would alternate like this for a couple minutes and then grabbed both of her cuffed ankles with her fingers, feeling her bare feet and exposed toes.
I wonder what they could make for those? she thought as she flexed her toes whose nails she had just painted a bright red. It was something to consider for another day when if her stash got discovered by her parents, she at least would not have to explain a smaller set of cuffs meant for fingers or toes.
Her parents. The thought flashed through her mind. She looked up at her alarm clock and realized she would have about an hour before they would get home from work. Her eyes widened as she realized she forgot to grab the key before putting herself in this predicament. She remembered where the keys were: right above her on the top of the bed. Or at least she hoped. So she grabbed the comforter draped over the side of her bed and began pulling as hard as she could. In a few seconds, which felt like an eternity for the young Sarah, she felt the keys landing on her bare back. She frantically grabbed for them and within about 30 seconds, she had freed her hands from the bonds and, rolling over onto her back and sitting up, quickly worked to get the cuffs off her ankles, which had become tender and red from the shackles pulling on her delicate, pale skin. She attempted to rub out the indentations, but found it more practical to grab a pair of ankle-high socks from a drawer and slip them on. She slipped on a college-branded t-shirt, almost forgetting she was half-naked.
Still sitting on the floor, she heard the sound of a car door slam quickly followed by her mother opening the front door downstairs. Sarah saw the restraints to her right and quickly slid all of them under her bed and covering the gap with the comforter. I was just making my bed and doing my chores, she would say if her mom got suspicious. Impulsively, Sarah looked behind her and lifted up her left foot, just to make sure she had not left her ankles cuffed, a habit and feeling she had become so accustomed to that she often forgot she was wearing them.
As she made her bed, she glanced down at the spot where the cuffs once rested. She wet her lips.
Someday, she thought, I'll do this for real. The thought passed through her mind as her mom opened her bedroom door and asked how her day at school went.
-
Before long, Sarah was off to college and had just celebrated her 19th birthday in the spring. Soon, she would be home for break, which she had told her parents she would be spending it in Florida with her friends. Or so they thought. Knowing their daughter would be out of town, they decided on a vacation out west to Colorado, someplace far away from the high heat that was baking the Midwest this time of year.
Sarah stood in the doorway of her parents' two-story home and waved goodbye as they pulled their car out of the driveway and sped down the road of their subdivision. She stuck her head out and watched them round the corner and out of the neighborhood. In her eagerness, she pulled back into the house, slamming the wooden door behind her.
She tiptoed barefoot on the hardwood floors though the empty house, just to make sure there was no unexpected company. She locked all the doors and windows and closed the blinds, letting the air conditioning pick up the slack. She ran up the carpeted stairwell leading up to her room down the hallway on the second floor.
She walked into her room and approached her school backpack laying on the floor. She picked up the bag, which of course felt heavy from the plethora of textbooks she kept inside, but there was something distinctly about how it weighed this time, as if one particularly heavy item was within and not just the mass of many other items. She set the bag on her bed and opened it, peering inside and reaching in to feel around to make sure its contents were all accounted for.
Sarah made her way to her dresser and opened the second drawer from the top. Among the other athletic wear inside was a swimsuit, a black bikini. She grabbed the top and bottom of the suit and tossed them onto her bed. She checked the window to her right and walked over to shut the blinds, foiling the exploits of any peeping toms.
She unbuckled her belt and pulled down her pair of short shorts, revealing a pair of red panties. She then pulled off her t-shirt and threw it on the floor next to her shorts. She then unhooked her matching red bra and let it fall down past her shoulders, letting out her ample, perky breasts. Sarah tossed the bra on the bed behind her. She noticed her nipples pointing, either from the coolness of the air conditioning, or something more...erotic. She pulled down her panties and stepped out of them, leaving them right next to her shorts.
Sarah stood in front of her mirror and flashed a confident smile, turning around to admire her figure. She turned and reached for the bikini bottoms, which she pulled up and adjusted around her crotch and buttocks. Her bikini top followed, with her pushing her ample breasts into each cup as she adjusted it to fit her just right. She let out a deep breath of anticipation. She walked around to the side of her bed, picked up the abnormally heavy backpack, and headed out her door.
Months ago, while in college, Sarah had a one-night-stand with a guy, whom she asked to squeeze her throat during sex. The sensation she felt took hold of her, and soon after was thinking of ways to trigger that, without dying of course. She would spend nights researching ways to combine this with her self-bondage. Plastic bags were an option, but were extremely dangerous and not something that should be done without a partner. Nooses, too, were ruled out, as she did not want to risk rumors going around that a trip to a hospital was a result of something more than just a "misadventure."
Then she remembered the exploits of Harry Houdini, whom she still poked around on the internet to find articles about his amazing, albeit staged, escapes. She read about his water torture cell escape, his milk can escape, and his escape from being chained and locked inside a box that had been thrown into a river. Obviously it would be difficult explaining the presence of a milk can, let alone a big, glass box with padlocks to be filled with hundreds of gallons of water. The third option tantalized her. If she could rig something that she could escape from while also achieving restrictive bondage and the peril of running out of breath, it would be perfect.
Sarah opened the back sliding door of the house and closed it behind her. She set the backpack down on the concrete surface and sat down. She looked behind her and opened up the bag, from which she extracted her original handcuffs and leg shackles. She dangled them before her, confident that her neighbors could not see her past the seven-foot wooden fence. She set down the cuffs and pulled out one-by-one various other items from the bag: a wristband with the keys, a length of heavy chain about eight feet long, and three heavy-duty padlocks. From the bag she also pulled another pair of police-issue handcuffs and a set of thumbcuffs, both of which were acquired from a specialty store out by her college town.
She laid out each of the items neatly to her left. She admired her little collection of bondage gear, which she hoped to add to once she moved out of her parents' house. She then reached into her backpack and extracted the reason why it had weighed as much as it did. With both hands, she set beside her a 20 pound cement block. She scooted the block along the concrete walkway by the poolside. The block, about eight inches in height, width, and length, also featured a thick eyelet protruding from its top so that it may serve as an anchor for a small boat. She took a heavy padlock and ran the open shackle though the eyelet.
Sarah placed her hands on the ground on each side of her. She scooted herself forward and stuck her feet in the pool, kicking the water and looking at the same, red toenails. She reached for the wristband with keys and counted each key twice so that she could match each one with its corresponding lock. She also tested each one to ensure they would function properly. She put the wristband on her left wrist and scooted back so that her feet were resting on the concrete.
Now, it was bondage time. Sarah picked up a pair of the police-issue handcuffs and stretched out to reach her feet. She placed one ankle in a cuff, tightening the ratchet around it as far as it would go. Then she applied the other cuff to her free ankle. Click...click...click went the cuff as she secured her bare feet together. She then took the pair of thumbcuffs and applied them to her big toes, tightening them enough as they were meant for thumbs just as the handcuffs around her ankles were meant for wrists. No way she could move outside of scooting around.
Sarah took the eight-foot chain and secured it to the handcuffs around her ankles using the first padlock. Click. She then took that chain and secured the other pair of handcuffs to it, stringing the shackle of the second padlock through a link of chain and ensuring it would not move along its length. She was curious how her hands would be placed when they were locked in cuffs behind her. She made sure the wristband with keys was still there before placing that wrist in the handcuffs. As she closed that cuff, she looked up and around to make sure nobody was wondering why they might have heard the sound of handcuffs being used. She shrugged it off and went back to work.
She brought her cuffed ankles underneath her so that she was now in a kneeling position. She felt the handcuffs dig deep into her ankles from the weight her body was putting on them. Sarah felt herself get wet again as she gripped around the thick, shiny chain and felt for the other handcuff. She took a deep breath and, taking a second to savor each click of the handcuff, closed the last cuff tight around her wrist. She pulled her hands up behind her and felt the unforgiving tug of steel chain securing her handcuffs to the cuffs around her ankles. She also felt a good foot or so of excess chain dangling past where her handcuffs were secured.
"Alright, Sarah. You can do this," she whispered to herself. She made sure to feel one last time for the wristband with keys before going ahead with the final step with her self-bondage. Can't be too careful, right? She had read all the horror stories, of people who had died in self-bondage predicaments, no matter how secure the bondage was. She had all this in mind when she looked to her left and saw what to her was an abyss of crystal-clear water about six feet deep, just enough to go over her head a few inches. To her, it would be enough to tease her that a breath of fresh air was so close yet so far away.
She shook off the nervousness and intrusive thoughts. Sarah carefully scooted toward the cement block with the third padlock still sitting open around the eyelet. She scooted back towards it, the metal cuffs digging more into her ankles. She grabbed hold of the padlock, using the weight to balance herself as she reached down to her ankles and threaded the padlock shackle around the short chain of her ankle cuffs and through the eyelet in the weight.
Click. She felt the finality in that one, the one that meant she could not move without the keys undoing her first. The one that meant her fate was tied to her unlocking her cuffs in time or else. The one that meant no turning back. She breathed in nervously as she knew the next step of the plan was right next to her. She felt once again for her keys and found them there like she expected. She could feel her nipples protrude through the black swimsuit top, her arousal close to peaking at this moment.
Slowly, she used her whole body to turn with the weight between her feet so that her back was toward the pool. She pulled at the chains once again to make sure everything felt secure. She used her bottom to push the weight past the concrete surface and inch-by-inch hanging it precariously over the edge. She felt her eyes roll back into her head as she took a deep breath and pushed the weight all the way over. The suddenness of the weight taking down her 110 lb. frame almost took her breath away as her long hair flew up and then disappeared under the water with Sarah.
The weight took Sarah right to the bottom in a fraction of a second. She quickly straightened her body so she could stand on the weight for a second, then attempt to push off it with her feet. She was immediately held down by the short chain of the cuffs around her ankles and felt her heart flutter and her mind fill with the fantasy of helplessness. She twisted for a second to test her bonds, then got to work.
First, she felt for the handcuff key and unlocked one cuff, then wrestled away the other one. The cuffs sank down to the bottom of the pool along with the length of chain. Sarah then squatted down and reached around to take off the thumbcuffs around her toes. She wanted to save the actual saving act for last so that she may add tension and perhaps intensity to her orgasm. The thumbcuffs, as finicky and stubborn as they could be, managed to open. She straightened her body dropped them right in front of her.
Last were the ankle cuffs, which were biting into her tendons. Should have double-locked them, damn it! she thought. She squatted down again and there felt the first pain of oxygen deprivation, of her lungs screaming for a breath. No, no! Not now! she thought. She was athletic enough but not exactly ready for an extended breath hold. She held up her keys and looked for the one to unlock her ankle cuffs. What she realized suddenly was she had just bought those cuffs and had not yet included the key for them in the key ring. Fuck! she screamed in her mind. She pulled on the ratchet of each cuff but they would not budge. Fuck, fuck, fuck! She looked up above and saw sunlight penetrating through the water's surface, reflecting prisms on the bottom of the pool. She wondered if this would be the last thing she would ever see.
Then it hit her. She still possessed the key to unlock the padlock securing her ankle cuffs to the weight below her. She grabbed the lock and tested each padlock key one by one. The last key inserted smoothly and she turned it, releasing the shackle and freeing her cuffed feet from the eyelet. She immediately floated to the surface and her head broke through the water. She took the most relieved, satisfying breath as she swam with her arms to stay afloat. She was still cuffed at the ankle and was borderline hyperventilating. She was panicked, but alive.
Suddenly, she heard the familiar noise of a car door slamming shut.
"Oh, my God," she said in a hushed voice. She looked below her and at her cuffed ankles. She knew it was her parents. She knew they were oblivious to her bondage interests. She knew if they caught her like this in the pool, even with just the handcuffs around her ankles, they would suspect something. And that would be enough to end it all. She used her upper body strength to lift herself out of the pool, then onto the concrete so she could turn around and face the pool. At least she could keep her cuffed feet in the water to try and hide them.
But what if they needed her for something? Her eyes widened as she grabbed for her backpack, spilling out a small cardboard box belonging to the cuffs around her ankles. She picked it up and felt something slide inside. She opened the box and pulled out the two keys that came with the cuffs. She turned back around and pulled her feet toward her, her hands shaking as she grabbed the cuffs and nervously inserted the key into the slot. She turned it, and off came one cuff. She looked up as if to thank God before unlocking the final cuff. She then tossed the keys and the cuffs into the pool, then hurried to put the handcuff box back in her backpack, along with any other bondage gear that was laying out.
She shoved the bag to the side, out of a direct line of sight from the sliding door. She then crawled backward on her knees and slid back into the pool right as her dad opened the back door and saw her with her arms resting on the side of the pool. He smiled.
"You couldn't wait to get in there!" he said.
"Yeah, it's kinda hot," replied Sarah.
"Alright, just remember to always keep the house locked up while you're back here. Just forgot my phone and had to come back to get it."
"Ah, yeah. That would be bad."
He smiled back at her before turning back toward the door.
"Have fun," he said, before shutting the door and walking away.
Sarah faced the door as long as she felt it was necessary so if her father came back, he wouldn't see her fishing something out of the pool. She looked down at the bottom of the pool and saw the weight, the chains, the cuffs all strewn about. It was a miracle such shiny things didn't grab anyone's attention. She sighed, then it all came back to her. The thrill, the emotion, the ecstasy.
The next thing she knew she was up in her bedroom, laying wet (and in more than one way) on her bed and soaking her sheets. She cared not that the door was open. She could not wait. She reached down the front of her bikini bottoms and pleasured herself into the most explosive climax she had ever felt.
It was only Monday, she knew, and spring break ran through the weekend. She had other ideas in store.