Nicole Sheds Her Inhibitions - free selfbondage story


free rope bondage free selfbondage stories

Have you ever done one of those insane things, the type of thing that after you've done it you wonder what the hell you were thinking? I was seriously stuck in such a situation. Literally. Stuck. Well, handcuffed and immobilized. You know...stuck. It wasn't until I finally got home that I realized how insane a thing I had done.

It was an early Saturday morning and I was driving to Blackheart's house to put myself into bondage. Blackheart wouldn't be home when I got there. We'd worked it out so that I'd be in his house when he was away on some out-of state photography thing. Well, being in his house wasn't exactly an accurate description. I was aiming for the shed in his back yard.

So here I was in my car, happily driving myself to do something insane. It was early, the sunlight just peeking up above the mountains to the east. The air was warm, even at this time of day. Even in the springtime, I can't get used to the heat in Arizona, though I've lived here going on three years.

I was nervous and excited too. I had gotten up really early so I wouldn't disturb Alexia and have to answer a pile of her questions. Truth to tell, I think she would have wanted to come along with me. Today my plans were for my own pleasure.

I'd fixed my hair and makeup like I was going out. I wanted to look my best for my “date”. Instead of dressing up, I put on only a plain, thin white cotton tee. Just enough cloth between me and a casual glance from anyone else who might drive by and to keep from getting arrested. I wore no bra, no underwear, no shoes. Nothing. Well, I also wore a red leather collar, locked at the back of my neck. And I had matching red leather cuffs on my wrists and ankles, all locked. They had O rings on them which tinkled every time I moved my head, arms or legs. The matching leather set had arrived at my front door this past week after ordering them online. Somehow I had left the key to the locks at my apartment.

I enjoyed the feeling of being nearly naked as I headed toward Blackheart's. I even rolled down the window to let the warm air blow into the car. It whipped my hair around and made my tee flutter across my breasts, and occasionally lifting up at the bottom to reveal my clean-shaved pussy. If there had been more cars on the road, I might have felt more exposed, but I felt strangely liberated, even wearing leather restraints.

Arriving at Blackheart's I scanned around the neighborhood before I got out of my car. He lived in a fairly nice neighborhood and I didn't want to surprise any of the neighbors. As I got out of the car, I hauled an ice chest out of the back seat. It contained all the rest of the items I would need for my stay in Blackheart's shed. The sun had just risen up above the horizon. The air warmed up a bit. I hurried to the gate to the back yard before anyone spotted me.

The shed was located on the opposite side of the house as the gate. Before I headed to it, I took a moment to luxuriate in Blackheart's back yard. He had a pool and large areas of grass with lots of trees. I'd been here before, once as a bondage model for Blackheart. But in the still of the morning and being all alone, the experience was different. Peaceful. I wished I could take a dip in the pool but decided that I didn't want to ruin my new collar and cuffs by getting them wet. It was a shame. I stripped off my shirt and spent quite a bit of the morning sun bathing on one of the pool chairs, no need to hurry now that I was here. By the time I roused myself, the day had grown fairly hot. My skin beneath the leather grew sweaty. I certainly didn't want tan lines on my neck, wrists and ankles! I decided to leave my tee shirt on the chair. I would retrieve it after my ordeal.



I made my way to the shed at the side of the house. Blackheart hadn't built the shed with the idea of storing anything in it. Well, not for the usual things. He had designed it as another dungeon of sorts – different from some of the rooms in his house. It was a sturdy wood framed building with insulation and aluminum siding. The door could lock from the outside. But it was what was inside that I wanted and looked forward to.

Stepping inside, I set down the cooler and surveyed the mini-dungeon. The walls, ceiling and floor had rings in various places. The floor was unfinished wood. There were several pieces of “furniture,” though they would never fit in anyone's living room. Well, maybe they'd fit in Blackheart's.

There were several different frames attached to the walls, floor to ceiling, made of metal pipe. Seeing them, they made me feel intimidated but excited. There were two wooden pieces, the largest, a wooden post set on a thick base in the very center of the shed, probably to use for whipping disobedient slaves. There was a wooden sawhorse topped with a heavy triangle of wood. I realized with a start that someone, most definitely bound and gagged, was to sit on top of this. It looked quite painful. I carefully straddled it. I had to stand on tip toe to clear the top edge. The sensation as I carefully sat down was not what I expected. Yes, it was painful, but the sensation was electric, the bite of the wood into the most tender section of my crotch, added to the pressure of it pushing against my thighs, holding my legs apart. I lifted my feet off the floor for a moment. The pressure would be overwhelming. I decided that I would have to come back and ask Blackheart to let me try it out properly. What a trip that would be!

Blackheart had left some bondage things arranged for me, at my suggestion. He was disappointed that I wanted to use his shed by myself. He had suggested various and ingenious ways how he might help tie me up and had implied quite provocative tortures, but I had wanted to try self torture for a long time. He finally agreed to let me play alone if I would tell the story about my adventures to him later. I guess that's what you are reading at the moment.

I closed the door behind me, metal scraping at the edges of the tightly fitted frame. Inside dimmed to near darkness. I shivered despite the growing heat. Sweat trickled from beneath my collar, down my back. The air smelled slightly of stale paint and sawdust.

A pipe frame was attached to a wall, a length of pipe sticking straight out from it. This was the setup Blackheart had created just for me. Another pipe stuck straight up from the floor directly in front. There was a box behind the frame with a motor on top. A length of steel chain hung from the ceiling directly above the frame. The effect of this hard metal was intimidating. Of course, since I would soon be attached to them, I was intimidated.

I opened and unpacked the contents of my cooler as I prepared to bind myself. Now I worked quickly, anxious to begin after a relaxed morning, getting a bit of sun by the pool. I pulled out a gallon milk jug filled with frozen water. A key was entombed at the dead center with a piece of cord connected to it and leading out the top. The jug began to perspire as soon as I lifted it from the cooler. It would last for awhile, even inside the hot shed. I tied the cord to the bottom rung of the overhead chain. I set the jug to one side.

The box had a motor on top, made from an old fan light. Instead of fan blades, each bracket had a small leather whip attached. I tested the device. As the fan sped up, the tails swung straight out to provide certain vigorous stimulation. I refrained from trying it out, since the fan was part of my future torture. I enjoyed the anticipation. The fan had a small controller at the base of the box holding it. I switched the controller on to cycle the fan on and off at various times and speeds throughout my bondage. I pushed the fan whip (whip fan?) (fanny whip?) closer to the pipe frame, it was quite heavy, to about where my butt would be in the near future.

I set the other items from the cooler by the pipe frame. I had never bound myself for such a long time before, and in what was to be a surprisingly strict position. Like I said before, sometimes we just do insane things.

I knelt within the pipe frame onto the wooden floor, facing the blank wall. I locked each ankle cuff to the frame on the floor with Master padlocks. Somehow the name seemed fitting for bondage. The key was frozen in the milk jug. My excitement grew knowing that I was now stuck for the duration. The frame held my legs spread apart. On top of the pipe jutting out of the floor, I affixed a hard, metal dildo. It screwed right into the base. Then, straightening up and making sure that the fan whip was still in the correct place, I lifted the pipe up, slowly inserting the dildo inside me. By this time I was getting wet, so the dildo slipped right in. Alternating between stretching and raising the pipe, I succeeded in impaling myself pretty good. The dildo reached all the way in, pressing deep inside me. It was pretty thick at the head, but completely inflexible and unyielding. It would prove to be a most effective and aggravating restraint.

Movement was now pretty difficult. I could barely bend at the waist and when I did, the metal dildo let me know that I wasn't going very far. I was able to just reach the remaining toys I brought. I attached clover clamps to each nipple. A chain connected the clamps at the ends. I absolutely love the sensation of having clamps on my tits. It is indescribable ecstasy. Clover clamps don't come off easily and actually pinch harder when I pull them. On the wall in front of me, slightly above my chest, was a C-shaped hook that curved toward the wall. I had to lean forward a bit to drop the chain up and over it. Pulling and bending that far sent sharp pain through my nipples that I felt as pleasure between my legs. I gritted my teeth, barely able to lift the chain over the hook. This left me in a completely awkward position I had to hold my legs and back straight, but arch my torso forward to keep the clamps from yanking my nipples off.

I was now a few inches away from the pipe jutting out of the wall. Attached to the end was a buckling penis gag. The penis itself was hard rubber and nearly two inches wide. I knew from having tried it once, that it would strain my jaw and mouth nicely. Once connected and strapped around my face, my head would be mostly unmovable, unable to turn to either side, unable to move back and forth, unable to move to reduce the strain on my back or knees. I would be impaled top to bottom.



I took the time to adjust my hips, knees and back one last time. Then, reaching, I found my blindfold and the final two locks that would ensnare me captive for the better part of the day. My hands were sweating. I found myself shaking again, despite the awful heat within the shed. I felt the overwhelming urge to make myself cum, to allow myself a small pleasure before my restraints prevented me. With my hands still free, I could have gotten myself off. Bondage, though, isn't just about great orgasms. To me, bondage is about struggling against tight bonds, the pain, the uncertain waiting, the yummy anticipation, the frustration of unfulfilled raw sexual energy.

I resisted the impulse to fondle myself and, instead, placed the blindfold on, another restriction. I find blindfolds very powerful restraints. By stopping me from seeing, they force me to focus on the other senses, all of which become pretty hyper when I'm bound. I felt the trickles of sweat on my back, on my tits, on the side of my face. My pussy throbbed. The pain in my nipples was changing from a sharp to a dull, more erotic sensation. My knees were starting to feel the rough floor. My mind started to focus on my bondage, my helplessness, and my extreme pleasure.

I slowly moved my head forward to locate the gag. Finding it, I first gently licked it with my tongue, encircling it, caressing it as if trying to please a cruel Master. After I made it wet, I spread my lips to engulf it. I licked and sucked at the warm extension for awhile, imagining the pleasure that I was giving Master. But somehow he wasn't satisfied and he forced me to take all of him inside my mouth and hold it there. To ensure his pleasure, I also had to buckle him inside my mouth, tightening the straps of the buckle behind my head to their tightest notch. I wouldn't be able to pull myself away from him if I wanted to. Stuck to this cruel Master, my mouth impaled, I could hardly move at all.

My hands were still free, though. Master had to remedy that immediately so I wouldn't be able to somehow work my way out of my predicament or give in to my throbbing pussy. I was forced to lock my wrists together with the small padlock. I wouldn't be allowed to free my hands until I returned home where I'd left that particular key. I reached high above my head and, after fumbling with the remaining Master lock, I finally succeeded in snapping it shut through the rings of my restraints and on a link of chain. I was stuck.

Master laughed. He knew I had done this to myself, made myself so vulnerable and totally, completely helpless. He knew that I was his helpless slave, that I would be stuck here many hours, waiting for him. Longing for his touch, his pleasure, his release. He was a cruel Master, though and left me at that moment to suffer alone.

This was the strictest bondage I had ever tried. My mind pulled away from the fantasy world. At first I felt how uncomfortable my bondage was. I tried to shift my knees and the unyielding metal in my pussy pulled, stretched and rubbed inside me. The point created a dull ache, pressed deeply against my cervix. Sweat trickled and itched. I noticed how hot it had gotten inside the shed and wondered how I would bear it in a few hours. Any time I moved to straighten my arched back, my tits lighted with fire, pulled by the clamps. My ears drummed with hundreds of sounds that I hadn't heard until now. The chain above me clinked. My heavy and quick breaths filled the small room. The walls of the shed creaked. Birds chirped outside.

This was the worst part of bondage, noticing all the uncomfortable things while time slowly passes. I determined to relax my mind, to put my head in its slave space. I was certainly not going to be able to doze off in this stringent position. Slowly, as if falling asleep, however, the small aches and pains left and I headed deep into my mind.

Master had come back. He was not satisfied that I was securely fastened. He commanded me to try pulling my arms free. I tugged and pulled, trying to slip my hands through the restraints, but they were too tightly wrapped around my wrists. I struggled harder at the chain, trying to pull it from its secured position from the ceiling. Nothing worked. My arms were helplessly secure.

He told me to pull my legs free, but even a little movement brought pain back to my knees and only succeeding in driving the metal post deeper into me. Master laughed at that - the fact that I couldn't even struggle to try to pull my legs free from their bondage.

I tried to spit out Master's thick cock, but again found I had almost no wiggle room. My neck began to ache from the strain of holding it in one position for so long. Master demanded that I remain gagged so shamelessly.

A part of my mind heard a motor whining. I couldn't quite understand what it was when I felt the first faint tickle of a whip's strand against my right thigh and butt. I startled and jumped a bit, bring more protests from my pussy because of the blunted steel. The whip hit again, a little harder, then again, harder still. Within seconds, my exposed butt was subjected to constant flogging.

Master was relentless. He whipped my butt again and again sending shocks of pain across my exposed and helpless skin, through my hips, and directly into my pussy. There was no escape. I didn't want to escape. The pain and pleasure mixed and my mind soared to new heights. Master knew how to punish and please his slave at the same time. I sweated. I panted and mewled into my gag. Drool escaped from my lips and dripped thickly onto my breasts, coating them and my arched stomach. I desperately tried to cum, but I couldn't get enough movement or friction along the dildo. It was wonderfully frustrating.

Suddenly, the strength of the whipping stopped. Master struck me a few more times, gentler each time, then stopped altogether. My pleasure/pain had been too brief and I hungered for more. My frustration grew and I became impatient for my next whipping.

The time slipped by while I remained in this state. The whippings continued, slapping one side or another. I could feel my skin prickle and burn every time Master stopped. I knew that I would have bruises when I was finally allowed release.

I found it hard to focus on any one thing after a time. At one point, my arms started shaking from the strain of being stretched up above my head for so long. I constantly had to shift the position of my wrists to change the pressure points on them. I was doing something of a dance between the pressure on my knees balanced against the pain and tension inside of my pussy. I'd pull myself up a bit to help release the pressure below for awhile, but my arms quickly tired and I would have to try and gently lower myself back onto my impalement. My nipples burned every time I lifted up or down to change the pressure on my wrists or in my tortured pussy. My jaws hurt from being held wide for so long. Every muscle ached, including my back, in between my shoulder blades where I had arched it for hours. I juggled trying to straighten out my back while ignore the fire that encased my tits when I pulled against the clamps.

After a time, my pain became too much and I was jolted out of my slave state. I was shaking all over now and my body was covered with sweat and slimy drool. I started desperately to pull up the length of chain below my wrists, then hauled on the cord attached to the key and my escape. I could feel the weight of the ice, floating free in a jug of water, but still too large to remove.

Tears came to my eyes. I was crying. The pain and sensations were merciless. Crying only succeeded in getting my blindfold wet with tears to mingle with the sweat.

Master circled me, enjoying the distress I felt. “This is for your own good, you know,” he said. “You have been such a disobedient slave that you need to be taught the true meaning of your servitude.” I whimpered into the leather surrounding Master's cock, unable to make any coherent sound at all. He whipped me again for the hundredth time, faster, then slower, stopping for short periods, then starting again with the other side. My ass itched and burned.

Minutes passed. Hours passed. I had no concept of time. I shook. I begged Master. I fought. I finally grew too weak to fight any longer. All the strictness, the pain, the frustration became the only existence I knew.

Master spoke one last time, then. “I will let you go when you have learned complete obedience, when you are completely my slave”. I began to repeat his words, over and over: “I am your slave. I am your shameless slut. You may do with me as you wish. I am your slave....”

Master smiled at me. “You have become my true slave and you will do all that I wish. You may now release yourself from your bondage.”

Trembling. Afraid to try again, I lifted the chain, then the cord connected to my escape. The key came free! Barely able to move my fingers, I unlocked the padlock holding my wrists. The shock of pain from my shoulders and back almost made me fall over and tears came to my eyes again. As quickly as I dared, I reversed the process of my bondage. Master withdrew his thick cock, thanking me for my hours of attentive ministrations. The nipples were the worst. I had thought that during my ordeal my nipples hurt, but releasing the clamps made me gasp at the shock. I gently pulled the dildo from my pussy, lowering the pipe that held it in place. More pain in my back. Raw knees. I couldn't straighten my legs. I was finally free. Only my leather restraints and collar remained. My wrists were also still locked together. All awaited the keys that I had left behind at my apartment.

I lay gasping on the hard wood floor. Slowly my senses returned. I was covered in sweat and spit. I took great long drinks from the water jug. My nipples were tender and swollen red. My pussy was swollen and felt like I had been fucked all night, even though I was still hot and horny. I reached down to finger myself and found my pussy too tender to make the attempt. I would have to wait longer to release my sexual tension.

I must have rested there for ten minutes until I had the strength to move outside to the relative cool. (It was still pretty hot.) Finding my way to a pool chair under the porch, I lay down and promptly fell asleep. I awoke in the early evening completely stiff and sore and decided I had better head back to my apartment to the remaining key and a cool shower.

It was only after I reached for my my tee shirt that I realized that I had no way of getting my arms back into the sleeves with my wrists locked as they were! I didn't have the strength to rip it. Completely embarrassed at how stupid I'd been, the only thing I could think of was to wait until late night and hope I could hide most of me under the shirt while I drove home. It would certainly be another adventure.

Note by Blackheart: It's a shame I had to go out of town on a photo shoot when Nicole decided to brave the bondage furniture in my shed. I would very much liked to have been there to see her distress. She's such a pretty, petite, but athletic blonde and an impressive sub. But then again, if I'd been there, this would have been a different kind of story. I've had to content myself with having her sit down and tell me all about it. Her experience did give me an idea for a self-bondage machine, a large one, perhaps with a post. Computer controlled. Something like that would have to be called The Beast....




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