Tracy`s Weekend


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I had always been interested in bondage, ever since I had been a child, and had many experiences with various partners throughout the years. But recently I had been in a dry spell, and I was getting itchy.

I am a professional woman in my early thirties, and I work in a respectable office downtown. When land prices were low a few years back, I took the opportunity to buy a house out in the suburbs, and it was at the end of a cul-de-sac. Behind the house was a woods, still untainted by the touch of man, although I'm sure it's only a matter of time before some developer comes in and makes a killing, literally, by knocking all the trees and putting up a bunch of new houses. But for now, I can enjoy the woods.

I left the sliding back door to my house unlocked, walked through the gate in the chain link fence, leaving it open, and carried my bag of goodies and a long pole into the woods. It was a warm weekend day, near the end of summer, and I often take a stroll in the woods, so I didn't expect anyone to think anything unusual, unless you count the three foot pole. In any case, I'd never run into any of my neighbors in the woods before, so it would be suitable for my adventures.

I wanted to make my adventure a good one, so I walked for about half an hour before deciding to stop and start the fun. A good thing too because I was already getting really horny, and it was all I could do to stop from touching myself. The worst thing about self-bondage is when you make it too easy on yourself, and you end up with nothing but embarrassment and a bunch of embarrassing marks that are hard to explain the next day.

In any case, I decided to stop here, so I unloaded the contents of my bag, and stripped completely naked, and put my clothes in the bag. I would leave it here and come pick it up later on, after the adventure was over. Then I put on the main costume for the day, which was essentially a white one-piece bathing suit with fur trim around the leg holes and around my breasts and up the shoulder straps. It had a big puffy white ball on the back, which was going to be my "tail". Next came a head harness, which had a white rubber ball-gag, and big bunny ears to complete the bunny costume.

I really love the feeling of being gagged, of my mouth being totally filled with this foreign invader, unable to repel it or even close. I then locked cuffs around my wrists and ankles, and waist belt, although none of them were connected yet. Then a big heavy collar with rings on it. I thought the dark black of the leather would make a stark contrast to the white of the rest of my outfit, but I didn't have a mirror here so I just had to imagine it. The very thought of how sexy I must look made me start rubbing my crotch area and my nipples, which had already become hard, and I had to catch myself -- I didn't want to ruin the fun by coming too soon. Then I thought that the next step would be even better if I could bring myself as close to orgasm as I could without coming, and the frustration of being so close but unable to go over the edge would be deliciously intense. Yes, that was the way. So I spent the next few minutes thoroughly enjoying myself, panting heavily through the gag, until I could feel the familiar swelling coming on and I had to use all my will-power to stop.

Reluctantly, I continued on with the preparations. First, some white knee-pads, because I knew the trip back was going to be hard on my knees. Then, I took a six-inch chain, and locked it to my ankle cuffs, first threading it through a ring at the end of the long pole. There was another ring near the middle which I locked to the waist belt, and the ring at the far end locked to the collar. The effect of all this was that I could no longer stand up, I had to get onto all fours. Then I took two shorter poles, attached one end of each pole to the collar. And then the moment of truth -- the best part of self-bondage. The instant when you lock your hands and are irrevocably stuck in your self-made predicament until you get out.

Before I could do anything sensible like stop there and try to get out while I still had freedom of my hands, I quickly locked one wrist to the end of each pole, effectively forcing my arms out straight. Immediately I panicked, thinking that I've really gotten myself into trouble this time, but it was too late. My hands weren't going anywhere. My mouth was similarly useless, I could only make quiet grunts which wouldn't attact anyone's attention, this far out. I tried to stand up, but the long pole did it's work; it was too short for me to extend my legs straight. I tried to kneel up, but even that was no good; about halfway up, the pole was blocked by my crotch and I was stymied even there.

No doubt about it, I had really done myself well this time. I was going to have to crawl back to my house on all fours, to where the keys were waiting invitingly on my living room floor. There was no one to help. I was really hot, and my pussy was crying out for some stimulation to bring it over the edge, but the poles on my arms would only let my hands extend to about mid-thigh. By trying to kneel, I could press the pole into my crotch, but that only gave a very indirect pressure which wasn't enough to satisfy.

I gave my hands one last tug to verify that they wouldn't come out of the locked cuffs and tried to push the gag out with my tongue, but as expected the bondage was firm. Casting one last glance at my bag and the clothes inside it that would've been much less embarrassing than the sexy bunny outfit I had on now, but could no longer be used thanks to the bondage in the way, I set off back towards my house.

I was immediately grateful for my wisdom in choosing the knee pads, because after only a few steps (crawls?) I could tell that my knees would've been hurting badly. My arms (forelegs?) had fairly wide ranging movement, within the restriction that they had to stay fully extended. But the chain between my ankles was a little too short, and so I couldn't crawl very quickly.

The first part of the journey was flat, and then a slight uphill. I noticed that my hands and shins were getting pretty dirty pretty quickly, but I there wasn't really anything I could do about it. The ground was a little bit wet, probably because it had rained yesterday. It was a lot different on hands and knees, half naked, than walking upright with a proper pair of boots on.

As I crawled along, I reflected that it really was nice to be out with nature. I settled into a (very slow) pace and I started to notice the sounds again. The suffle of fallen leaves as I moved my arms and legs ahead. The slight breeze blowing through the trees. The raspy breathing coming from behind the large rubber gag. The birds singing away, knowing that they can fly away rather than trudge along on all fours like this foolish human.

My mind began to wander. What would happen if someone were to find me like this, trudging through the woods? Would they think some criminal had done this to me, and call the police? What if it made it into the papers? That I could live with, probably. But what if all the fuss brought out all my neighbors? Especially that sleazy Mr. Johnson who lived on the corner? He was always ogling me, and I can't imagine how invaded I'd feel if he was to get a long look of me wearing this revealing but ridiculous bunny outfit, unable to speak because of a ball gag and not even able to move my hands to cover my obviously hard nipples and the wet spot in my crotch which was staining the bright white of the bunny suit.

I looked down instinctively, but to my relief, I couldn't actually see a wet spot, although my vision was somewhat impeded by the pole. It was then that I heard a familiar buzzing in my ear. Mosquitoes. I had completely forgotten about that particular wood pest, and I usually don't notice them on my excursions into the woods. But today instead of a pair of jeans to cover my legs and a cotton shirt to cover my arms and socks and shoes to cover my feet, there was nothing. In fact, I could see one on my right arm about to have a feast on me. I tried to blow it away, but the ball gag wouldn't let any significant amount of air through. I shook my arm, but the mosquito was not particularly fazed by such minor movements as I could make. I thought about rolling onto my right side to smash it, but I decided the cost of getting wet (and cold) mud all over more than just my shins and hands wasn't worth it. I tried to brush it away with my left arm, but it was too far up my right arm for me to be able to get at it.

I gave a yelp of frustration, and I felt my pussy twitch again, asking, pleading for some help. I had nothing to offer it but some futile struggling between my flesh and a combination of leather, wood, and steel which was holding it captive. Now that I was thinking about it, I could feel bug bites all over. I saw a mosquito on my left leg and was able to brush it away, but it was only a matter of time before it landed again. Ah, this was ridiculous! I didn't want to be covered with millions of itchy mosquito bites making my life a living hell for the next couple of weeks! But there was no way out.

It had been quite a while, and I decided to take a break. Offer my crotch the minor consolation of a firmly pressed pole. I looked back and was somewhat shocked to still be able to see my bag, through the trees. It was only maybe a hundred yards back, on a generous estimate! Now I had to think. If it took me 15 minutes to get 100 yards, and it took me half an hour to walk here, and humans walk at 4 miles per hour, then I wished I'd paid more attention in elementary school when we were learning how to solve word problems. But maybe it only took 5 minutes to get here. But even so, it's going to be bad if I'm going to have to rest every 5 minutes!

But no, it wasn't that bad. Once I'd managed to get used to the constant distraction of mosquitoes, the insistent buzz from down below, the six inch chain between my ankles and the pole which forced me to stay on all fours, I was able to make a fairly steady pace. Not bad for a woman who can hold own her own house by 30 years old! Still, you had to wonder, how could I be so successful, and yet so stupid as to do things like this at the same time?

Anyway, after a while, maybe it was an hour, I came to an unexpected obstacle. There was a small stream, maybe two feet wide, which needed to be crossed. I'd just jumped over it on the trip out, and hadn't given it a second thought at the time. But here it was serious obstacle, especially since the bank on the opposite side looked steep.

But, it didn't seem so steep that I couldn't manage it in this state. And, there was really no choice but to cross the stream somewhere. It might as well be here. So, I crawled into the stream, and the water was pretty cold, but I managed to crawl across and plant my hands on the opposite bank. The water seeped in between my knee pads, but it was a warm day and I knew it would dry out soon enough. I advanced up the bank, but when I brought my second knee out of the water onto the bank, somehow I started slipping or losing my balance or something. Before I knew it I was lying on my back in the stream.

It took me a couple of tries to right myself, but by then I was completely drenched. The cotton bunny outfit had just sponged the water right up, and was really cold now. It had also turned transparent in most places. I thought it would dry because it was a warm day, but for the moment, I was cold. If there were something I could do to wring it out, that would help a lot, but my bondage prevented that.

I got out of the stream, and mused about how I was going to get past it now. I decided the only thing I could do would be to crawl along it until the opposite bank was easier to climb. As I crawled along, I was starting to shiver from the cold, and also my arms, knees, and jaw were starting to get sore. As I walked along, the suit started riding up into my butt, causing yet another annoying sensation. I tried to fix it, but my hands couldn't reach any actual fabric. I tried rubbing my arm along the side of my leg to try to pull it out, but the high-cut legs meant that I only rubbed actual skin.

I eventually found a place to cross the stream safely, and this brought me to an unfamiliar part of the woods. I could have crawled back along the stream until I was back in familiar territory, but I was rapidly growing tired of this adventure, and I knew roughly the right direction back to home, so I figured I'd save some travel time by going that way.

Big mistake. After I'd crawled along a ways, I realized I was actually lost. This really wasn't what I needed, and I was starting to despair. I struggled with my bonds, trying to stand up, or extend my legs, or spread my legs, or bend my arms or even just get rid of that stupid ball gag, but nothing helped. I started to cry.

Imagine the headlines: "Successful Woman, Dies in Forest, in Bizarre Sexual Circumstances". But, I thought, crying isn't going to help. I'm a successful woman, I've overcome lots of obstacles before, and I can overcome this one. It may be one of my own doing, but that doesn't change the fact that I have to get over it. I thought for a minute about changing tactics. Instead of crawling along as normal, I looked around for a stick or a rock which I might use to cut the leather cuffs holding my wrists. If that worked, it'd be relatively easy to undo the rest of my bonds and walk like a normal person, either back to my clothes or back home, or somewhere, but at least at a normal speed. Rocks were in short supply, but I found a promising-looking stick, and started rubbing the sharpest looking point against one of the wrist cuffs. But, since everything was wet, the stick was a little bit soft, and after only a little rubbing, the sharp bit had gotten completely mashed into a smooth surface with little obvious effect on the cuff. A few more minutes of similar activity left me as firmly bound as before, so I decided that crawling was a better option.

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I noticed the sun break through the trees, and it was looking like mid afternoon, and I knew I'd been out here a lot longer than I'd realized, and started to panic again. But then I remembered that the woods was to the south of my house, and since the sun set to the west, I had a rough general direction to walk.

Sure enough, after what must've been another hour, I reached the edge of the woods. I was around to a different part of my neighborhood, but I knew how to get back from here. Staying within the cover of the trees, I crawled around the perimeter of the neighborhood until I was just outside my backyard. I would've dashed as quickly as I could've to get in except for the problem that my next door neighbors were having a barbeque. In an emergency, I could go out and be helped by them, but in this state, it seemed like it would be much better to just stay in the cover of the woods until they were done, annoying though that was.

Being so close to my goal, and safe again, my spirits recovered. With my spirits, my libido came back to life, reminding me that we still had unfinished business. I was very apologetic, but my loins were still very insistent. The helplessness of the bondage and the helplessness of not being able to go in the house despite being so close were driving me wild. All the things I couldn't do; unwedge the bunny suit from my crotch, dislodge the ball gag, cover myself, swat the mosquitoes, and most of all, stroke my pussy; were conspiring to bring me to sensory overload. This to me, is one of the fine points of bondage, the assault of sensations which demand a reaction, but which such reaction is impossible.

With nothing to do but wait, I was driven more and more to try to fill my need. I know some people have been able to orgasm without actually touching their clit, but I've never been able to do it. I was began writhing around, pressing the pole into my clit, rolling onto either side, making ineffectual moans into the gag, but the storm would neither ebb away nor break. Finally, with a last whimper of frustration, I forced myself to sit still.

I just sat still with all my might and just enjoyed the sensation of my pussy throbbing. After a while, the barbeque ended, and it was starting to get quite dark out. So I decided that the neighbors were done in their backyard for the moment, and I scurried for the safety of home. But, when I got to my back yard, I discovered to my horror that the gate was closed and latched. I stared disbelieving at it for a whole minute before trying an experimental head-butt into the gate to see if it would open. Of course it didn't. I started to head towards my front door, thinking I would be well illuminated by the street lamp in the cul-de-sac, but that I didn't have any other way in. But I stopped halfway there when I realized the door would be closed, and just as difficult, if not more, to open.

Now I was stuck with another quandry. Should I go bang my head into one the neighbor's door? They'd never be able to look at me the same way again, but I suppose that'd be better than dying. Staying out here indefinitely waiting for something good to happen certainly wasn't going to help.

But then I had a good idea, for once. If I got a branch, I could use it to poke open the latch and push open the gate. So I went back into the woods, which was very difficult to see in since it was so dark, but I was able to find a stick in short order. I crawled back over to the fence, and with only a couple of misses, got the latch open. I pushed the gate open, and when it creaked I thought it would wake the world.

But fortunately nobody came out to see the interesting sight in my back yard. I ascended the three steps into my house without too much difficulty and I pretty much collapsed there on my warm kitchen floor.

And I do mean collapsed, because I must have dozed off. When I came to, it was pitch black outside, and the only light in the room was from the various electrical appliances I had around. There was a slightly cool breeze coming in from the still-open sliding door, so the first thing I did was close that, which warmed things up considerably.

Then I crawled over to my living room floor, and procured the waiting key. Only now did I realize the final obstacle, which is that the locks on my wrists had accumulated a lot of mud, which had dried in the hole. I was also leaving a huge mud trail on the floor, but there wasn't much I could do about that right now.

I surveyed my options. I could try to get some sort of implement to clear out the dried mud, try to wash it out, or try to cut off the cuffs. In the end, I decided to go for the last option. The knives in the kitchen were on the counter and probably unreachable, but I knew I had a pair of scissors in the dresser in the living room. I went and got those, and cut free one of my hands, which went straight to my crotch for some serious stroking. In a matter of seconds I climaxed into a gigantic orgasm which left me flat on the floor for a few minutes.

As I recovered from bliss, I decided that I didn't want to quit self-bondage after all, and so I wanted to keep as many of my cuffs as possible. I crawled into the bathroom, and, despite making a bit of a mess on the floor, was able to wash out the mud from the holes in the locks, and free the rest of my bonds. I drew up a nice hot bath, and went to bed and slept peacefully, leaving the clean up for a later day.

Maybe I'll play the "bound maid" tomorrow...




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