Jackets bondage story | straightjacket, gag, slave, chain
I had been sitting there for what seemed a very long time wondering just how I had ever got into this mess. That statement is possibly misleading? I wasn't sitting - there or anywhere - because I was tired, enjoying some relaxation, admiring the view, watching television, eating or doing any of those things we spend so much time performing while sitting. I was sitting on the floor, and had been doing so for at least an hour, for the very-simple reason that I was unable to get up.
My legs were doubled under me with ankles strapped to my calves by a wide leather belt. They remained so strapped because my arms, and the hands that had always resided on their extremities, were confined in what I had lately learned was a straightjacket and which strapped them tightly around my body.
With each minute that I sat in that helpless condition my resentment against this erstwhile best friend had grown to the point where I would gladly have...
But wait a minute; that strange tingling feeling was making itself felt again. I moved restlessly against the confounded confining contraption then, with a sudden burst of deep anger, I strove mightily for freedom. I succeeded only in overbalancing and crashed on to my side. Furious wriggling only confirmed however that I could not escape and, with that conviction, came a sensation I had never known before. It welled up uncontrollably; at first it frightened me and then, willy-nilly, I gave way as it shuddered and thundered throughout my whole being.
Such was my introduction to orgasm. I lay there on my side sweaty, exhausted, exuberant ... and still helpless as ever in that damned jacket until a voice intervened: "You enjoyed that, sweetie? Now don't deny it."
No need to open my eyes ... it was Veronica, that treacherous so-called friend who had tricked me into this. But I did open up and I accused her in no faint tones: "You were watching me? How could you? Isn't it enough that you've got me like this?"
"No, my dear. I was NOT watching. No need; I reckon everyone within two miles must have heard you. I just came to see that you were OK. Take it as a rhetorical question."
"Well, now you've had your fun, get me out of this thing."
"You can't be tired of it already, surely? You've only just started. When yo... ".
"Ronnie," I interrupted severely, "enough. GET ME OUT OF THIS."
"But luvvy ... you've only just started the fun. And besides ... I've wanted to get you into it for such a long time ... and you look ... so ... did you know you were a great wriggler?"
"Ronnie. You're pushing our friendship. If I'd known this mean streak in you I would never have come on this holiday with you. Now, please, let me out of this thing."
"Hmm. Of course ... it's against all the rules ... and you have made your wishes quite clear ... but it IS time to start phase-two and Gerry hasn't arrived yet and ... "
"Gerry? GERRY? Who in heck is Gerry?"
"Oh, perhaps I didn't tell you. He's my brother and he's coming to join us for at least a week. I'm sure you'll like him."
"Not rolled up like a boiled pudding I won't. Ronnie ... you MUST let me go. I must look as awful as I smell."
"Nonsense, sweetie. You look simply great. Now, just you relax and try for another. This will go a long way to helping and it'll keep your mind off the arguments."
The "this" proved to be a large red ball threaded on to a leather strap. As with the straightjacket it was my first introduction to a ball-gag. Yes, I was inexperienced and naive else maybe she would never have got me into that thing so easily. But I was going to find it difficult to forgive her cavalier treatment of me; we weren't even related and she had no right to take it upon herself to educate me. But, it has to be admitted now, she did me perhaps the greatest favour of my life.
My home life was never a happy one and I was glad to get away to college. There my roommate, Veronica, took me under her wing and opened my eyes to many things. It was sometime before I realised that she was well and truly heeled; on the death of her parents she had been left well provided for and she had invited me to spend the summer recess with her at their beach house. But, until the incident with the straightjacket, I had never heard of a brother.
That day had started well with a beautiful sunny morning which had tempted me into a walk along the beach. Ronnie had declined the exercise and, on my return, I had found her apparently doing some repair work on a coat of some kind. She was having some difficulty which I didn't understand, being not into needlework of any sort, but she asked if I would mind modelling it for her. Like a sweet little innocent I walked right into her trap.
When I pushed my arms in I noticed - first - that the sleeves were too long; a lot more work yet to do on those. That they were closed at the end was the third thing I noticed because it suddenly struck me that it was being put on back-to-front! By the time I had become suspicious she already had the wide leather collar secured about my neck and was rapidly securing the waist. As she reached through my legs and grabbed the crotch strap I started my protest but I was already lost; With the straps tightened around me she had reached from behind and began to trap my arms in the front loop, then the side loops and finally engaged the buckle at the back and gave a mighty heave. By then I knew for certain that I had been tricked, was trapped... but let it be said that it was taken as a joke and I had no fears.
In fact it felt ... rather ... ?: "Veronica. What on earth is this thing? I can't move except my legs."
"That we'll soon take care of," she replied. "It's called a straightjacket. They used to use them to quell violent prisoners or people who went off their heads and became violent. Now, if you'll just kneel down a minute..."
Yet again I walked into the lion's den. She passed a long leather strap around my ankles, pushed the ends up between my thighs, took them around my hips and, with another big heave, buckled them at my back. That left me sitting permanently on my heels.
She stood back across the room to admire her handiwork. "Now THAT's what I call bondage," she said with great satisfaction. "Darling you look really great. And I've so often pictured you like that."
"You've often ... ?" I was more than a little confused. "But what's the purpose? What now?"
"Oh, nothing dear. That's it. I have you a prisoner, my prisoner; you're all mine. And I shall enjoy teaching you some things."
"No, Ronnie," I began. "This has gone far enough. Now let me out please."
But she had just turned and walked from the room.
Now she was standing in front of me, with a grin that could have swallowed the Cheshire Cat, and holding that ball thing which, I felt sure, boded anything but good. She moved behind me and, while I was twisting my neck to follow her over my left shoulder, she used her right hand to give a gentle pull on my hair. I shouldn't have responded, of course, but I did and in less time than it takes to tell, my mouth was plugged and the strap, buckled at my nape, was holding the horrid thing behind my teeth.
I was too startled by its effectiveness to be afraid; my immediate efforts at protest had become mere unintelligible moans. I looked up at Ronnie to ask her to remove it but she smiled in obvious delight as I struggled in vain. "You'll find that does wonders for the feeling of frustration. Now, I'm going to start the tea ... enjoy yourself while I'm away." And, once again, she walked out and left me.
Perhaps I would have been less cross, had I known, as I do now, that she went no further than the other side of the door. It was my first ever time with a gag and anything could have happened; Ronnie most certainly isn't the heartless and cruel captor I had so far reckoned her.
It didn't take so long that next time; my pump had been primed as it were. When I recovered I was lying on my side as before but, needless to say, still enveloped in that canvas-damned-jacket. I lay there for I don't know how long, partly resting and partly enjoying the mental re-run. Then I began to wonder what Ronnie was doing? Was she perhaps spying on me? Was she enjoying my fruitless attempts to escape? Why kind of sadistic instincts were driving her to treat me like this. Then, abruptly, I became furious again and fought desperately against my confinement. With legs doubled under me there was little that I could attempt, which doubtless was Ronnie's intention, but I remember bouncing vigorously around on the floor and, at one moment, the coffee table upset with a considerable crash.
Exhaustion quickly overcame me as my body temperature climbed and I stopped; I felt distinctly faint and likely to pass out. At that moment I can honestly say, and with total conviction, that I no longer liked my friend Veronica.
"Well, now. That was quite a show. Have you been practising long?"
The voice was male, smiling, solicitous, a trifle bantering? If it was deep and virile it was also disembodied. I twisted my head around and found a real hunk standing just inside the doors that led out to the verandah and so on to the beach. I guessed he must have entered by that route. Not difficult to guess his identity.
He bent over me and carefully removed the gag. "I suppose you are Gerry?"
"That is indeed an honour which I share not with any other. And, may I ask, who are you?"
"I'm ... er ... er ... Jan. I'm a friend of Ronnie's." Suddenly I was at a loss for words; I was most uncomfortable. My hair was plastered all over my face, stuck down with sweat. I needed, seriously needed, to run for the bathroom, I had to get cleaned up and put on something more ... er ...
He was speaking again. "I have a strong suspicion that this is not a normal activity for you? That tumble was too realistic for an old hand in bondage."
"Er ... well, yes. It's the first time I've ever tried it. Yes."
"And, unless I miss my guess, my sister Ronnie is responsible for getting you into this and she did it without your consent?"
"Isn't that a harsh judgement on your own sister?" Much though it was deserved I resented his confident put down on someone he ought to have been supporting.
He smiled gently ... and I liked it. "Oh, no," he said. "I know my sister only too well. But I admire your loyalty. This sort of prank is exactly what she delights in setting up. Don't get me wrong; she hasn't an evil thought in her body but that's the problem - she never stops to think. She doesn't mean to hurt you or even frighten you. And she knows very well what I think about her playing with my toys. That jacket is my property and, I promise you ... she is due for punishment."
"No, please," I began, "you're right, I know. Just get me loose and let me tick her off."
But his pursed lips bode ill for Ronnie as he shook his head. "Straightjackets are a fetish with me; I've several of them but this is the bottom one, the easiest one. At least she showed that much common sense. But she knows very well that you should NOT have been left alone.
"And now," he went on, stroking the hair out of my face; "Now that you're already in it ... and such a pretty picture too ... I don't think I can bring myself to let you out. I will help you, of course, but ... " and his face broke into a great beaming smile, "you can't be so cruel, surely, as to ask me to let you go when I've only just found you?"
I couldn't find any words to say. I was flabbergasted. But I was also strangely excited. I had been rescued from Ronnie's trap but now I was the captive of this gorgeous man and ... he was proposing to keep me! Strange how my attitude to straightjackets had so suddenly changed. It didn't matter now how long I was kept like that. But, as it happened, there was no need to worry. While I was thinking out all that above ... he had put the ballgag back into my mouth and was drawing up the strap ... but not so tightly as Ronnie had pulled it. Once again I had absolutely no say in the proceedings!
He left the room but was back again in a few minutes carrying a small bowl of warm water. He set me up again into the kneeling position, removed the gag and started to wash my face. That would have felt so good in any event but, to me then, it felt like heaven. Next he produced a comb and began, so very gently, to restore order to my hair. "You have lovely hair, " he complimented, " a bit sticky at the moment but I can guess what it'll be like when we get it washed."
We? Was he proposing to ... ? I was getting that feeling back between my legs. But he put the comb back in his pocket and, once again, restored the gag. Then he picked me up as though I weighed nothing at all, put me on the sofa and removed that strap that held my legs. However, he re-employed it to fasten them together and there seemed to be no end to the number of times he wound it round and around.
Finally, as I lay there, as helpless as ever but considerably more comfortable ... and not giving a damn about the comfort anyway ... he eyed me with obvious appreciation: "That's one thing for which I must thank Ronnie ... you are indeed a prime captive. Now, there's one thing that is mandatory under these circumstances; I have to say 'Now don't go away' while I go find Ronnie. She must have seen me coming and has made herself scarce. Be good." He made me a little stiff sort of bow and departed the way he had come.
As I lay there I recalled his own words: "She knows very well that you should not have been left alone." I understood his point; that ball completely blocked my mouth and it was quite possible to choke on it. On the other hand I had survived that furious struggle while it was in place whereas now I was quite comfortable; but, even so...
He popped back through the doors: "Hmm. Sorry," he began, "breaking my own rules. 'Twill never do." He swiftly removed the gag, put it to one side and leaned down: " Hope you don't mind?" and he kissed me full on the lips. Mind? He just HAD to be joking.
He hadn't been gone long when I thought I heard noises but nothing happened and I settled back again to wait. I had no other choice, of course, but then I could find nothing about which to complain. I may have dozed ... perhaps I didn't ... but I have no true idea as to how long I waited. I was called back to reality as the door from within the house opened and Gerry entered and it was in all probability the most electrifying entry that I have ever witnessed.
In his left hand he held the end of a small chain and, as I watched, he gave it a none-too-gentle tug. Then, on the other end of that chain, I beheld Ronnie; despite my recent experience, my heart went out to her. She was in .. it was undoubtedly ... a straightjacket - I could see her arms wrapped about her body ... but it extended from the high collar around her neck, to which the chain was attached, to below her knees so that she was forced to shuffle along with very short steps. The collar was diabolical ... I know now that it is called a posture collar; to turn her head she was obliged to navigate her whole body around and it was there that the hobble performed its devastating work. She was gagged with what looked exactly like a horse's bridle with a big black bit jammed between her teeth and strapped back behind her head. Each end of that bit terminated in a large brass ring to which was attached what could only be described as reins.
I watched aghast as he led her across the room to stand by my side. Gerry reached down to put a finger across my lips: "Not a word," he said and the sound of his voice made something curl inside me. "Open that pretty mouth and I'll put the ball back in."
He pressed on Ronnie's shoulder and made her kneel; then he did something with her gag harness and allowed the bit to hang down from one side of her mouth. He nodded in my direction.
"Jan," she began and I was surprised at how steady her voice sounded; I expected at least a touch of hysterics. "I'm truly sorry for the way I treated you. Gerry's right; I never thought of the effect it might have on you. It must have been awful for someone who knew nothing of bondage. Forgive me, Jan, please."
"Why ... of course. It wasn't such a big deal after all and ... to a certain degree at any rate ... I enjoyed some of it."
"You've always been such a sweetie. Now this is my punishment. For the next week while Gerry is with us ... I am to be your personal slave. When he takes off this jacket he'll put me in chains. I'll do whatever you ask, any time of the day or night, just ask."
"Ask? ", queried Gerry.
"No, " she hastened to amend. "A mistress commands her slave."
"Even if I were to agree to this - which I certainly don't - how can you possibly serve anyone without the use of your arms and hands?"
"Fear not, " she said, with a distinct twinkle in her eye. "Gerry will take care of that item very soon because he wants dinner." Then it came to me that, despite the severity of her bondage, Ronnie was enjoying herself. These two did this sort of thing all the time!
"You should be OK there for a short while ?" Gerry said, "just while I get this hussy started on dinner." He shook her chain: "It had better be a good dinner, at that."
As she turned I got another shock. All down the back of her jacket Ronnie was sporting a whole line of brass padlocks, one on every buckle. She was to be my slave, maybe, but plainly I was not to be able to free her! It brought home to me a whole new concept of the idea of slave and owner; I was to own her but ... if I was not to have the right to free her as I wished then ... who was to own me?
Oh! Goody, goody.
I was left alone for some long while and, eventually, the room became invaded by cooking smells. I hadn't realised how hungry I was getting. Finally came Gerry but, instead of releasing me as I expected, he put me over his shoulder and carried me into the dining room where he sat me in a chair. In front of me, on the table, was a broad canvas strip which straps off each end and he used this to secure me into the chair. There wasn't any chance whatever that I could escape and so his concern must have been that I shouldn't roll off the chair? But how was I supposed to eat?
He sat himself at the head of the table and rang a little bell that was beside his plate; only then did I realise the table was set for two. It was answered by Veronica who proceeded to set dishes which she fetched from a serving hatch. Yet again I was flabbergasted; these two were determined, it seemed, to introduce me to the world of bondage ... as I now appreciate, that should be the world of Bondage Games.
Ronnie was no longer confined in that horrendous straightjacket; indeed her attire represented rather the reverse. She was all but stark naked. Her entire head was encased in a leather hood, laced tightly down the back with only eye holes and a breathing hole for her nostrils. Below her nose there showed a round area which suggested to me that a plug of some sort was in her mouth. No wonder she would not be dining with us.
Below, the hood finished with - and I think was locked by - a narrow bright steel collar which sprouted rings at intervals all around it. Lower down still her breasts were covered by what looked like similar-metallic cups and I could only assume that they were glued on. From where her nipples should have been a thin chain depended and, from each point of attachment, dangled - and dingled - a little bell.
About each wrist was locked another bright steel cuff and they were joined by a thin chain about nine inches long; this was repeated both at knee level and at her ankles. Altogether her every movement was signalled by a constant jingling sound.
I started to protest but Gerry raised a hand to silence me. "She can't serve us in a straightjacket. We've enough trouble with one girl confined that way. Of course, if you would prefer it, I could swap you over? When she stops making herself useful she will return to the jacket; would you still wish for the swap?"
"You're impossible," I gasped. "And if you intend to keep me like this ... how am I going to eat?"
"You have a slave?"
"But ... ?"
"I can see that you are not used to Life's little luxuries. But, don't worry about it; I will teach you."
I shook my head in bewilderment: "You simply can't do this. We are neither of us..."
"My dear girl, think a moment. Who is going to stop me? Now, shall we eat? Slave Veronica ... don't just stand around there while it all gets cold. Look lively girl."
That was surely the most traumatic meal I had ever experienced and, for that matter, it still remains so. It took me several days to comes to terms with such behaviour and Gerry had the wisdom not to let me out of my straightjacket until I did so. Ronnie spent the evening on the floor of the lounge chained hand and foot; I presume that Gerry removed the mask and gag to let her eat and also gave her a loo break but, with those two ... who is to know.
That night I crept into Ronnie's bedroom and found her strapped and locked back into that full-length jacket. Confined in my own jacket I couldn't help her no matter how much I wished to but in a whisper, she did her best to reassure me. "It's only a game, Jan. Do I look as though I am suffering. That's why I treated you so roughly. It's all normal to me; I'm enjoying the feeling of helplessness. I feel all wrapped up and that's somehow very safe - comforting? But Gerry is right ... I should have realised."
I stayed in Gerry's bondage for four whole days, day and night, and not once was I able to do anything for myself because he added padlocks to my jacket fastenings. In all that time I was wholly dependent on my appointed personal "slave". And, of course, on the fabulous Gerry himself. Perhaps it was the attention he paid to me in person that made me so acquiescent. I never had the slightest doubts about "belonging" to him, of being entirely under his control - his command. Each period of waiting was a period of pleasure that would lead to his return. Boy, did that shower feel good when finally I regained freedom but it was tinged with sadness in that my special status had evaporated.
It doesn't seem possible that my introduction to their crazy world was all of three years ago. The things he practices on us now make that week look like a brownie's picnic. I frequently find myself struggling around the house under what seems half a ton of cuffs and chains. If I have a complaint at all it is just that, once my husband starts a bondage session, he often seems to forget that there is a need to terminate it.
Without doubt his favourite toys are his straightjackets and I have been in all of them. My first furious reaction, when Ronnie tricked me into such captivity, has now turned into a love affair although I don't know how much that has to do with my total love of Gerry himself. At this moment, as I write this on my computer, I am spending my third day in a short one - no lower than the crotchstrap. He will eventually let me out, of course, if only because he will tire of doing all the chores himself; the shopping, cooking, washing - being ENTIRELY at my beck and call. You can get extremely adept at creating little emergencies!
Yes. I know. How can I type into a computer with my arms wrapped around me in a straightjacket? He is very inventive. This ball, which is living in my mouth, has been drilled and fitted with a nine-inch rod that pokes straight out in front of me. All I have to do is nod my head so that it jabs the keys. Well, all right, it is time-consuming and requires a certain amount of dedication but then, I've had a lot of time on my hands lately.
Maybe our bondage circle will be a foursome soon because Ronnie has begun to "walk out". And, although I've yet to tell anyone, he will soon have to go easy on his treatment of my good self because we are to become a threesome in our own right. I just can't wait to see his face when I tell him and yet... I keep hanging on to MY little secret.
Oh-oh; he's getting up from that armchair which means he is about to make a hot drink. He'll replace my typing rod with the drinking tube and then take off the restraints which hold me to this chair and desk, he'll take me upstairs over his shoulder, take off my diaper patch ... for the most obvious reason ... and then he'll take me to bed. Last of all - he is guaranteed to take the most diabolical liberties with poor little helpless me.
I had better close this down and click on SA ..
