Lycra Prisoner bondage story | women tied, burqua

I enjoyed reading this interesting tale involving bondage, role playing and domination where the psychological element is at least as important as the bondage itself. Please take note that Michael's and Michele's play is wholly consensual, even if it does not always appear that way and each participant still retains the right to opt out at any time if the play becomes too rough or they have had enough.

“Given the current news, we should keep our role-playing in theme”, suggested Michele. The United States had just begun bombing Afghanistan and Osama's Taliban friends back to the Stone Age again. Our TV looked like a video game while bombs and missles flattened Kabul. A wicked glint in her eye told me what to expect....

“Oh, yes?” I asked with an ever hopeful expectation of yet another creative bondage session.

“How about you are a captured US pilot and I am your beautiful Afghanistani carer who must comfort and look after you while the evil Taliban tortures you to get the secrets behind the American campaign?” she replied.

“You realise that means you must wear full burqua. That means heavy cloth from head to toe and even your eyes covered at all times!” I replied.

“Fine, but you will be a prisoner, and I mean it. Unless you safe-word out, you will be a helpless prisoner of a couple of friends and myself for a week.”

“What?”

“I can’t keep you busy 24 hours a day with interrogation without help. Remember you will be a captive pilot. That means we are trying to break your spirit. Sleep deprivation would be a big part of that.”

I gulped nervously at what she was getting at, but nodded my agreement. During the next week, I sourced three burqua’s for Michele and her three girlfriends and watched while Michele disappeared into our dungeon to make her arrangements.

Come the next Friday, I dressed myself up in a flight suit I had borrowed and started running across a field in a remote farm at the appointed time. Michele was a real stickler for realism in our role-playing scenarios.

Three guys dressed in army uniforms appeared from behind bushes and roughly threw me to the ground. They handcuffed me and hobbled my ankles. Their final act was to pull a tight Lycra bag over my head.

Sudden total darkness and the horrible feeling of breathing back in most of the air I had just exhaled out made me feel overwhelmingly claustrophobic. My enemies spun me ten times in different directions to confuse me and led me off to my fate.

Nobody would speak to me and I complained in futility as the hobbles made my ankles throb with every step. I felt myself being thrown into the back of a van and the doors slam behind me. Michele had really outdone herself this time!

Some time later, my captors dragged me out of the van and I felt myself being led into a room. Rough hands grabbed my handcuffs and pulled my arms high above my head. I was stripped and left standing naked.

Suddenly girls’ voices erupted in laughter and I felt a slim female hand take hold of my cock.

“What the hell is this, a long wart?” said a strange female voice.

“This isn’t a male, it’s a woman with a long pimple. Someone get a magnifying glass,” another strange voice said.

Under my mask, my face was bright red. Several strange women were examining my most important male attributes and questioning my manhood with great glee. Even though I knew it was pretend, I found it impossible not to take it seriously.

A sudden cold agony informed me that a packet of frozen peas or something like that had been pressed against my genitals. Several minutes later, I knew that my manhood would have shrunk to a terrible size.

The girls then really made fun of my cock, and then I felt a slippery sensation as nylon women’s knickers were pulled over my legs. “Might as well dress correctly sister,” one of the women jeered.

They grabbed my nose and forced me to swallow a couple of pills. Slowly over the next few minutes, I felt sleep overcoming me. Totally against my will, I lost consciousness.

Gradually feeling returned to my body. How long I had slept was impossible to say, but I knew the sleeping tablets would have knocked me out for at least 12 hours or more. I tried to move my arm and found it stopped after about 1 inch.

My eyes shot open and to my surprise found I could see, and what a sight. My body was encased tightly in black Lycra. A tight Lycra hood was over my head, but I could see dim shadows through the material.

I frantically struggled against the bag, but the seams and material were strong enough to hold me helpless. Webbing straps across my ankles, thighs, waist and chest held me helpless. My cock was the only thing emerging from the bag via a small hole at my waist.

The sight of this pale white worm laying on the black Lycra made me feel completely inadequate and as embarrassed as I could ever remember being. A tender female hand tied a pink ribbon tightly around the head of my cock and attached it to a weight hanging from a pulley on the roof.

I felt my cock being stretched uncomfortably towards the roof.

“That might help you get a real dick,” laughed one of the girls from inside her burqua.

“But it is now time to start the interrogation, infidel!” Michele’s voice came from behind her veil.

She ran her fingers up my Lycra clad soles and I screamed in laugher. Tickle torture was not something I could ever stand. Michele and her friends started to work on various parts of my body all at once.

Throughout the next two hours my world was full of embarrassing questions and tickle torment in my Lycra clad bondage.

“How many times a month do you masturbate?”

“What was your first girlfriend like?”

“Describe your first organism?”

“Would you like to wear woman’s clothes? Don’t tell me you don’t handle women’s knickers and feel the material? With a dick as small as yours you must be bi!”

“What nickname did you have at school?”

If I tried to lie or not answer, and believe me I did, they seemed to sense this and tickle me worse. At one point, I thought I would lose my mind with the constant overload, but the girls always pulled back just before I safe worded out.

In the end, I confessed on audio tape to being a bi-sexual cross dresser, who masturbated ten times a day while reading Mills and Boon romances and stole woman’s underwear off clotheslines!

None of it was true of course, but the tickling was driving me mad.

Finally, two of the girls called it a night and left one behind to keep me talking all night. If I stopped reciting an endless list of my sexual perversions, I was rolled over and caned on my ass by all three woman. The Lycra offered no protection to me and I was sure my ass would have no skin on it if I did not start my confessions again.

The next morning, I woke to find I had drifted off to sleep and one of my tormentors was lying on the bed beside me, sound asleep. She had obviously given into the need to sleep and had crawled into bed beside me.

Moving as quietly as I could, I slipped out of the bed on the other side. I hit the floor with a thud that jolted me to the bone, but I suppressed a groan. The Lycra seemed inescapable, but I wondered if I could somehow rip a seam on a sharp corner of a piece of furniture.

Wiggling my way across the floor, I found a drawer unit with a corner that seemed quite sharp. I pulled the Lycra tight and started frantically rubbing it against the corner. NO SOAP. The Lycra was just too strong for that idea. Nearly crying with frustration, I started opening drawers with my mouth. Luckily, I had been left with a small opening for my mouth after complaining of hyperventilation due to lack of oxygen in the original solid hood, and it gave me the chance to grab anything I use to escape.

The third drawer contained a pair of nail scissors, thank god! I grabbed them with my mouth and dropped them in reach of my hands. Working through the thick Lycra was difficult, but I managed to use the scissors to cut a hole big enough to grab the scissors with my fingers. Two minutes later, I ripped the last of the Lycra off my sweat soaked body. I spun round to the still sleeping woman and rammed a huge piece of wet Lycra from my crotch into her mouth. Her eyes shot wide open in surprise, but only a very muffled protest escaped her lips.

I turned her roughly on her side and her burqua helped me greatly as she found it impossible to struggle within its embrace. Thank you, I mentally said to the man (of course!) who had invented such an outfit for women to wear.

Using some more strips of Lycra from my destroyed suit, I bound her hands behind her back and pulled her towards a chair.

I decided that comfort was not a priority and tied her hands up in an inverted prayer position behind her and then tied her elbows down to the chair arms. My smile was broad indeed as I decided to tie her legs up in a crossed lotus position on her thighs, and then arranged her skirts to drape nicely over her missing legs.

She moaned under her gag as her leg muscles screamed in protest and her shoulders throbbed.

“Pay back time for the caning,” I whispered.

Moving very quietly, I wheeled her chair so she faced the door from the corner. I then hid myself behind the door on the opposite side and waited very patiently. Far more patiently than my captive who moaned and wiggled in her impossibly tight and painful bondage.

A few minutes later, her relief unlocked the door and walked in, dress rustling as she walked confidently into the room. As she stopped and took in the empty bed and her friend struggling on the chair, she gave me enough time to act.

Her surprise as I grabbed her from behind and she joined her fellow torturer in hopeless bondage was complete.

“Susan, Anna, are you alright?” came a wary Michele’s voice through the door. She kicked the door open hard in order to stun anyone hiding behind it and jumped into the room past any attacker whom she thought might be hiding there.

Michele had been studying kick boxing lately and I knew that in a straight out fair fight, she would thrash me without mercy. I had no intention of giving Michele a fair fight as I leapt up from behind the bed and threw a sheet over her head and plunged her onto the floor. She gasped as she lost her breath in an explosive gasp and lay panting as I tied her up ruthlessly up.

A few minutes later, I had three pairs of veiled eyes begging me for mercy, as I stood naked in front of them. I grabbed my cock and waved it in front of them.

“It might be small, but it still can help me dominate three cunts!”

“Now over the next few hours, I will be getting a full confession from each of you as to how you made me confess to crimes that are not my own. Then you will all confess to being sex slaves, and sign documents that will make me your owner for the next twelve months. After that, I will then decide your punishments.”

“Lets start with a little tanning.”

One by one, I stripped my captives and staked them out in the bright summer sun. Using suntan lotion, I wrote ‘Slave’ across their foreheads and waited for the sun to burn them bright red.

They begged me to release them and cursed me as I replied, “I will show you as much mercy as you showed me during the tickling. However if you confess to being slaves and sign your slave contracts, then I will free you.”

One hour later, Susan decided slavery was better than a horrible sunburn and pledged and signed her way into slavery. She then was allowed to dress and sit quietly chained up in the shade to watch the rest of the proceedings.

The other two simply would not give in, so I decided to up the stakes. Leaving Michele to tan on for a bit longer, only this time with her ass pointed straight at the sun, I took Anna across to a nearby tree. I remembered on a bondage site the other day, I had read about a suspension technique that made women go wild. I tied her arms in a tight embrace around her neck. Her head poked out of the looped arms in a hilarious way. It looked like she was wearing a collar made out of her arms. Next I brought her left leg up as far as possible towards her right shoulder and tied it to her right leg pulled up in the other direction. Now she took on all the appearance of a ball of female flesh.

Her final scream of pain as I ran one last rope between her legs, making sure it pulled deep into her cunt and ass and lifting her off the ground, was very gratifying. Least than a minute later, she was pledging undying obedience to me and signing her slave contract.

I smiled as my two new slaves untied Michele from her bondage and led her via two nipple clamps into our dungeon. Michele begged them to show some loyalty to her.

“Come on girls, now that we are free, we could take this bastard down!”

My new slaves were by now completely loyal to me; and one of them simply slapped Michele hard on the ass and said, “Just come along quietly bitch.”

They led her into the dungeon and locked her in our strong cage, which I had built as a birthday surprise so many months ago. They ran out of the room giggling and jostling for position.

Michele stood naked in the cage examining her mild sunburn and wondering at what was going on as the girls walked back into the room carrying piles of her clothes over their arms.

I sat back and watched her surprise for a while before talking.

“I have given them all your clothes, everything - even your underwear! They will not be giving them back as for the next few months clothes will be the least of your priorities. You can wear your burqua to go shopping in later on.” I paused to listen to Michele protest that she loved some of those outfits and they could not be replaced.

“I said that clothes would be the least of your worries and I meant it. You have $25,000 in the bank, a car, and half ownership of this house. All up that is around $120,000, even if you sell all your possessions as well, to your name.”

“For the next 6 months a meal will cost you $100, oxygen and your lovely cage $300 a day, a visit to the toilet $100, and any form of entertainment such as a TV or book $50 a day.”

“That means you can be expecting to write me a cheque for $6650 per week to stay alive and you will be bankrupt about 1.5 months before your captivity ends.”

“Even with a very strict diet, no entertainment, and holding your water till you burst, you will still be around $6000 short of enough to stay alive.”

“I have arranged a work from home job for you stuffing envelopes, but at .5 cent an envelope you will have fold, lick and seal 1.2 million envelopes over the next six months to prevent starving and laying in your own shit.”

“Either that or you can beg for mercy every day and submit to strict bondage sessions without complaining. If you do that, I will give you two meals a day, toilet facilities, free room and board and a TV at night, simply for being a good girl!”

Michele nodded and took the handcuffs I offered her. She submissively locked her hands behind her back and knelt down, her head bowed in submission. I had finally broken her.

For now………