Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult (14 page)

       But my self education on SB has been a long and interesting one. I found out early that men, especially gay men and those into cross-dressing were, it seems, much more inclined to talk and write about it. I learned from magazines and what were probably ghost-written letters to editors of bondage magazines the details of SB in the lives of both men and women, most of whom maintained that they were straight.

       So how is this done? How can anyone keep such a thing secret and for how long? Can people go through their whole life without ever revealing their SB practices and when they die, are they able to still hide their equipment and paraphernalia or don't they care?

       My B&D gear is stored in a large trunk in my basement. When I lived in an apartment, it was stored in suitcases. I once had a roommate who, I discovered later, tried to pick the locks on my luggage, for whatever reason I don't know, but she would have only found stuff that she already knew I used on her from time to time. So, no big deal there. Yeah, my first real bondage partner was my roommate. She was miles ahead of me and showed me many tricks. Like, for example, she had a nearly foolproof system for a timed release. I had heard and seen the ice cube and candle methods, but she had something that was much more reliable and not as hazardous as the candle thing. We took a five-gallon bucket and filled it with water, put another empty bucket under it and then put a very small hole in the side or bottom of the first bucket. Unless I wanted to turn over the bucket and get the whole room soaked, I had to wait until it drained before I could get the release keys. This worked well for us when we did our mutual SB thing.       Until I met her, I had never thought about this kind of session. All it means is that two partners tie themselves and each other in such a way that they can do either their own thing while enjoying, watching or feeling the other or they are bound together in an erotically productive fashion. We did both. Our favorite was the 69 position with a double-ended dildo in each mouth. I don't have to explain how that worked, do I? The bondage simply added to the process, making us much hornier and more excited. One position was with our hands tied behind the other's back and our knees and ankles tied and wrapped around the other's head. We sometimes used bungee cord or rubber straps on our knees, so that there was a bit more flex available and the tension of the rubber tended to force the attached dildoe into the right place and the head back where it was supposed to be. Hooded and gagged with the back end of the fat rubber pricks, it was really wild to be driving the other end deep inside the partner and responding to her response. We went crazy doing this. It became a habit. It was addictive. We'd get home from work and get right to it. No dinner, no fun and games. No preface. Whoever got home first would set up the session and got to pick the devices. We had a drawer full of dildoes, some attached to a head harness and others that went on the waist/crotch belt. Whatever the first one picked out was the gear for the night. We actually slept with these things inside us, either in 69 or face to face with one big, fat dong going from her cunt to mine and thick straps around our waists and thighs. Getting set up for this sort of an evening was no big deal, but we usually showered first, then hopped into bed or onto the carpeted floor and went at it like crazed rabbits. The next day, we would both get odd looks from co-workers, (we worked in different places, thank God).

       These experiences cultivated my own deeper needs. When I saw a Japanese video in which the woman was suspended from the ceiling with a vibrator up her pussy and another up her ass, a gag in her mouth and her head pulled back by a rope in her hair, I desperately wanted to be in that situation. But there was no one to help me do this, so I started working on a plan to do this myself, no matter how long or hard it might be. This is the basic story of how this desire came to fruition.

       My first concern was how to get myself up in the air, four or five feet off the concrete basement floor and stay there. Hemp rope, like that in the video, was available from several vendors on the internet and I stocked up on it, spending several hundred dollars on nothing but the rope. This put a dent in my vacation savings, but I finally decided that if I did this right and it all came about, it would be a vacation I would never forget, so I spent the money. Selecting the heaviest and strongest beams in the basement ceiling, I drilled holes and fit heavy duty cross bolts and eyebolts at various locations, testing with dead weight and making sure that it would hold my mere 124 pounds, even bound in rope or chain.

       I was having thoughts about the bondage medium, rope or chain, even though the bucks were already spent on the rope. But I thought that if it worked out, in the end, sooner or later, I could experiment with both and discover which worked better and why. So, while gathering other necessary items, I started collecting chain, handcuffs and other related metal restraints. I was especially fond of wide steel collars that opened with a hinge in the back and locked tightly around my neck. One such collar I bought had four heavy D rings welded around the outside. This appealed to my sense of symmetry and I figured that a chain from each ring would definitely hold my head in place. But I'm getting ahead of myself.

       With the sturdy supports overhead, I needed to find a way to do several things that, from past SB experience, I knew were pretty near impossible. First, I wanted to be completely bound for the suspension. That in itself is always a challenge. Do I tie myself so that I simply cannot ever get out, or do I build in a safety that will release me after a certain period of time or do I come up with some sort of magical escape mechanism that will release me when I want it to?

       The first option made no sense, so I considered the other two. I omitted the possibility of having someone else come and free me, even though it had strong appeal to my sense of self-preservation. Back to this dilemma in a moment.

       The second necessity, if I was going to emulate the suspension in the video, was finding a way to hoist myself up off the ground while totally bound. Both of these problems needed solving, and I turned to several sources on line, asking how one might remotely control a lift capable of holding  my small weight, keep it raised and be able to release it when needed, all without touching the controls or the power winches involved. All sorts of suggestions came to me. It was clear that once tied, I could operate a remote control that would raise and lower the suspension ropes using one or more overhead electric winches. Well, that was no big discovery. I had already thought about that. My question really was how many winches did I want or need and how could I do this safely? Did I want a wired control or wireless? Did I need to come up with a back-up that would lock the winch's brake so that if the power failed, I would not be dropped to the floor below?

       Meanwhile, I worked on the actual suspension configuration. I was easily able to get my hands behind me with forearms parallel. I even figured out how to get ropes tight around my chest, holding my upper arms tight against my ribs. Doing my legs was a no-brainer. My only problem with tying my legs back to my thighs was that when I did this, I sometimes got terrible cramps in my legs and needed to release the bindings quickly. Using this hemp rope, I practiced tying ankles to thighs, keeping my legs apart in a V. It did not take long to establish the right amount of tension on the leg ropes so that I was less likely to get cramps and circulation would not be seriously effected unless I stayed there for a long time. My plan included a suspension period of several hours, but that was still not decided.

       Practicing the chest and arm bondage was more difficult. I had to make rope loops exactly the right size so that once I put them in place around my chest, I could slide my arms into the loops and tighten them just enough to hold me immobilized. Easier said than done, I discovered. Finding a way to cinch these around the torso ropes was an even greater challenge and I had to settle for thick rubber bands made from inner tubes. These, when applied to the ropes, gave a bit to allow me to place my arms into the ropes and then the elastic pulled them tight. I also figured out that as I was raised upwards, I could have ropes attached to weights or rings in the floor. These ropes would tighten as I went higher. This was a great idea and I worked out the exact lengths of rope needed to pull everything tight when I was, for example, four feet off the floor. If I needed more tension, I could raise myself a few inches or even a foot higher. The gag and internal vibrators were no problem and I elected to control the winches, two of them, with a pair of remotes, which I taped to my hands. The twin winches lifted one set of ropes on my waist and legs and the other lifted my upper body and waist. With this arrangement, I would not rotate once the winches engaged. Slowly spinning in the suspension appealed to me, but once again, I thought that I could adapt for this later if I wanted to.

       Finally, after three months work, I was ready for my vacation. I made sure that everyone I knew was aware that I was going away for a few weeks. I told them the destination was a secret, but gave letters to my two closest friends and told them that if they didn't hear from me in ten days to open the envelope and they would then have information on where I was and how to reach me. I think that both women assumed I was going away with some guy, so it was a great sport kidding me about who and what this was all about. The day came when I shut the house up, canceled mail and newspapers, made sure all my bills were paid up and disappeared out the front door with empty luggage. I made sure one neighbor, who was much too nosey, saw me leave and waved to him. I took my car to the airport, then took a cab back into town where I checked my empty bags with a hotel holding service, then waited in a nearby bar until it was dark. I walked to my house, making sure that I was not seen or noticed, entered the basement through a window I left open and set to work.

       My special area of the basement was secluded and in the center of the house. There were no windows in the room that had previously been used as a work out and weight room. It was perfect. The bright and shiny suspension fittings on the ceiling beckoned me and the new and tested winches seemed to be inviting me to let them lift me up.

       From the rafter fixtures, I had suspended an aluminum I beam with two winches that could move along its length. From each winch hung a single chain with a large hook. When lowered to nearly floor level, where I lay wrapped in a web of rope, the hooks were easy to attach to the web. Pushing the "up" button on the remote started me towards the ceiling. The ropes pulled on my body in several places, forcing me to remain stretched out with legs apart, the multiple strands of hemp rope cutting into my sex, clutching my waist and slicing across my breasts. My arms were well secured and only my hands had any motion remaining. As the rope web stressed under my weight, the wrist ropes pulled tighter. I moaned into the gag and settled in for what I knew would be a long night.

       Another variation of this same suspension involves using chains instead of rope, but the technique is the same. Wrapped in yards of locked, medium steel chain, I lie on the floor, gagged and, in this case, hooded. My upper arms are cuffed and chained and when the lifting begins, the chain between my arms pulls up and the elbows come nicely together. As with the rope, I cheat by joining the wrist cuffs with snap hooks instead of locks, but the effect is more than acceptable.

Chapter Thirteen

This session is a how-to for making

and using spreader bars and related gear.

Alexis - Spreader bars

       For me, having my legs and arms held wide apart has always had tremendous appeal. I got my first spreader bar while I was still living at home. It was in fact an expandable, spring-loaded bar that was intended to be used as a chinning bar, placed in a doorway. I drilled out the hollow metal tube at both ends and linked handcuffs to the ends with split rings. Once I was in the cuffs, there was really no way out. That in itself was a tremendous rush. With two of these bars, one on my feet and the other on my wrists, I was helpless. I really loved it.

       But you are going to ask how could I get out of this self-imposed restraint? What was my secret? Here's how I escaped: First, I always made sure there were several keys in the area where I was playing. I was naked and gagged, but I could see the keys. The problem was to get a key in one hand and then reach the other hand two or three feet away, clamped to the other end of the spreader bar. The secret was that the bar was spring-loaded. Under normal conditions, its spring pushed the ends outward, stretching my arms and keeping me locked up tight while I struggled. But, if I put my weight on the bar, it compressed just enough for me to get the long cuff key into the opposite wrist. Setting this up took time and patience, but isn't that what self-bondage is all about? If you do it impulsively, without a plan, you are going to get into trouble.

       On one occasion, when I was still essentially testing this method, I extended the bar too far so that no matter how much I leaned on it with all my weight and strength, I could not reach my other wrist cuff. The saving solution to this desperate situation came in the form of a longer cuff key. It was only perhaps an inch longer, but that length made the critical difference and with a lot of sweat and cursing into my gag, I got free. Lessons learned: Keep a variety of escape devices close by and test, test, test each time before you close the last lock.

       A different version of spreader bar is much simpler and doesn't take an engineering degree to create. I use dowels of various lengths and thickness and attach leather cuffs to the ends with ordinary wood screws and washers to hold the cuffs in place. The cuffs have two buckles on each one and the trick is not only to get out, but to get into them in the first place. By carefully measuring, testing and adjusting the leather cuffs beforehand, I can set them up so that with considerable effort I can just barely slide my hands into them and play for a long time, struggling as I will, without my hands coming out. When its time to escape, I use an aerosol can of cooking spray, like PAM, to coat my wrist and hands and then they slip out quite easily. Of course, I can always cut the leather, but that would ruin the set up and I'd have to rebuild it again.