Extreme Bondage Stories

Extreme Bondage Stories




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Extreme Bondage Stories
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Before I get into this bondage story illustration business, allow me to give you some background information about myself.  Back in the days before I got into creating and producing bondage photography art, I found my release in penning erotic bondage stories.  Made quite a name for myself on IRC as a bondage story telling scribe in the imaginary world of on-line Gor.  Kajira flocked to my cyber room which pissed off more than a few "Masters", especially those of the warrior class.  Much to my delight I must add.    Pushed my belly away from the keyboard, got off my pretentious ass, (still pretentious but as least I'm not sitting on it any more) turned in my pyjamas for street clothes and put that chapter of my life far, far behind me.  My on-line nick was and still is Masato which is what the M in Uncle M stands for.  I might add that I was famous for never quite completing a story which was done on purpose to create some suspense and give my work a sort of cliff hanger twist.  "The Long Lesson"   www.boundstories.net/storieslr… part one  www.boundstories.net/storieslr… part two is no exception.  Now...onto the illustration part of this journal. I crossed paths with a like minded bondage artist here on dA who creates some pretty cool bondage drawings.  He takes the time to dream up a little story for each drawing which adds a lot of life to the drawings.  In our exchanges this artist made it known to me that he has a bit of a fetish for a certain type of footwear on a model and that bondage photos of this nature were a rare find indeed.  Simple, inexpensive, attractive, easy to find and totally in keeping with my style of photography bondage.  What the hell...lets make this guy happy I thought so I have set things up for our very next shoot.  Fair is fair, I'm dealing with a gentleman of honour and I asked that he do an illustration from one of my stories and suggested The Long Lesson.  I'll be damned...he was not only well aware of the story but had it committed to memory.  Stunned the hell out of him too when he realized that I am the author.  This artist friend of mine is   3may5sq1 3may5sq1.deviantart.com/ … his first illustration fav.me/d52bwm6 for the story is complete.  Please read my comment on this piece.  3may5sq1 has put a lot of work and effort into getting the drawings as true to life as possible.  Not a bad likeness of my wife at all.  Drop by and have a look...put this guy on your watch list if you already have not.  you are not going to want to miss his instalments.  Oh....go and read the story.  Cheers!

Good question. Unfortunately I am still not out of the woods yet with this cancer thing. I'm loath to make my personal health woes public but I let that pussy cat out of the bag awhile ago. Good news is the radiation therapy got the vast majority of a mass the size of a mans forefinger. Shows my body responds positively to treatment. Bad news is there was a bit of a tumour left over and they found more cancer. This is cancer the "magical" scanning machine apparently missed or the people reading the original scan were not paying enough attention to detail. I'm going with the latter. Not to worry, this all has been caught early enough t
Enough of this cancer talk....let's get onto something a lot more positive and fun shall we. Over the years I have gotten to know quite a few of you though our connection here on dA. A lot of good natured and fun bantering but honest and sincere at the same time. The chances of me ever meeting up with most or any of the lovelies for some bondage fun is remote at best. I get that. However, that doesn't stop me from making a bucket list does it? I'm going to share, one bucket item (NO, I don't consider anybody an "item" but this is the best descriptive word that I can come up with at the moment) my little fantasy "bondage play" scene with
Way past time for a bit of an update on myself. On a positive note, I'm not only still very much alive and kicking but on the mend albeit slowly. I successful completed my 6 weeks of treatment which was 6 weeks ago now. The thing with radiation therapy is it's accumulative and the body is still radiating itself 6 weeks after the last radiation treatment. Think of being under a heat lamp for a period of time then shutting off the lamp. What ever is under that lamp keeps on cooking. My type of cancer was painless so I was bloody lucky to have noticed something was amiss early and acted on it. My troubles or issues is dealing with all the
It's certainly been awhile since I have posted anything of significance here on dA and not without reason. I'm loath to post bad or negative news especially when the news is of a personal nature. Double if the news concerns a serious health issue. After much thought I am going to make an exception for my dA followers only. Late January I was diagnosed with cancer of an unknown origin. Picture a fire with an unknown source. Fire fighters can control the fire and eventually put it out but dammit where did it start and what caused it? Kind of important information to have if you want to ensure the fire doesn't flare up again somewhere els
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I didn't know you were into Gor. Maybe you need some kajirae photoshoots!



Genre:

Erotica / Fantasy



Author:
Steve_Spandex




Rating:


5.0
1 review



Age Rating:
18+



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A collection of 'Damsel-in-Distress' short stories. 'A Few Short Tales of Trapped Females' is a compendium of 'Damsel-in-Distress' short stories focusing primarily on bondage/peril scenarios. Most are one part stories, complete within themselves, although a few are in two parts where noted as such. This is an on-going project which will be updated and added to with new stories from time to time.
Suzy pulled on the tight fitting cat-suit with a rising sense of anticipation. The shiny metallic black outfit glistened in the morning sunlight that streamed in through her bedroom window as she slowly eased the skin-tight fabric up legs already sheathed in black tights; smoothing out any wrinkles as she proceeded up over her thighs and hips to her waist, then onwards over her bare breasts and shoulders, slipping her arms into the waiting sleeves before finally reaching her throat. Dexterously reaching behind her back, she pulled the zipper upwards to her neck. She was now encased from ankle to neck in the figure hugging suit; the stirrups under her feet ensuring that the legs wouldn’t ride up. Turning to admire herself in the full length mirror, the image that stared back at her was of a slim young woman in a second skin of shining spandex that produced a faint swishing sound as she sashayed across the room. Suzy always deliberately purchased her cat-suits – of which she had many – a size too small. That way she ensured that there were no folds, creases or wrinkles; just one smooth layer that clung to her skin over every square millimetre of her beautiful young figure.
The clear blue sky presaged a day of warmth and sunshine; a perfect early spring day to be out in the open air. But Suzy had other plans for this Friday. Indeed, she’d taken the day off work for one reason and one reason only; so that she could tie herself up. For not only did Suzy love the feeling of ultra tight clothing, she also had a passion for being bound and gagged as securely as possible. And that was how she envisaged spending most of today; in a self induced state that was as near to inescapable as safety would allow. Being a solo endeavour, of course, she knew that she could never attain that longed for state of complete helplessness that she one day hoped to experience. Being too embarrassed to broach the subject with any of her friends, no one else in the world knew of her kidnap and bondage fantasies, so to date she had never had the pleasure of being inescapably bound by a third party. Self bondage, however, was the next best thing and as close as she could get to this ultimate goal for now.
Suzy tied her long brown hair back into a ponytail and began preparing for the day ahead. Firstly, she positioned the sturdy upright chair that was to be her binding point in the centre of the room, close to the foot of the bed. Next she opened the bag that contained all her bondage equipment: the ropes, straps, tape, gags, handcuffs etc, which she’d acquired over the past few years. Laying out what she needed on the floor, she sat down on the carpet, took the first length of rope and bound her ankles together as tightly as she could. Cinching the rope so that she would be unable to wriggle free, she knotted this first bond and tested its efficiency by pulling and wrenching with all her strength. Satisfied that no amount of struggling would in any way cause the rope to loosen, she took the next rope and performed an identical procedure just below her knees. Two more bonds - one just above her knees, the other around her thighs – completed the immobilisation of her legs. Holding onto the chair, she stood up and checked her appearance in the mirror; the clean, bright whiteness of the rope contracting starkly with her shiny black cat-suit and panty-hosed feet.
Placing the rest of the items needed to complete her captivity on the bed, Suzy sat herself down on the chair and picked up the next length of rope. Attaching one end of this to the already secured ankle bond, she bent her legs up under the seat of the chair as high as they would go, pulled the rope upwards behind her as tightly as she could, then wound it around the back of the chair several times, before bringing the ends back down to her ankles. This manoeuvre proved extremely difficult as, with her feet now incapable of reaching the floor, she had to lean precariously to one side and stretch underneath the seat to secure the knot at her ankles. The chair was, however, manufactured from strong metal, extremely heavy and almost impossible to knock over. Once complete, Suzy sat upright again and tried to lower her feet to the floor. She found, as she had hoped, that this was now impossible; her feet instead being suspended in thin air six inches or so above the carpet.
More bonds soon followed, each aimed at ensuring that she had no way of moving away from the chair. First, a length of rope that encompassed both the seat and her thighs, which prevented her from attempting to lift her upper legs up off the chair. Secondly, a length of rope that she wound several times tightly around both her waist and the back of the chair, cinched this between the small of her back and the lower struts, then brought the ends around to the front and secured them with a firm knot on her stomach. Next, a rope harness that she commenced behind her neck, pulled down under her armpits, brought around to the front and criss-crossed her breasts, then continued over her shoulders back to its starting point, before repeating the process a further four times. Each circuit, of course, also encompassed the vertical metal struts on the back of the chair, so that once she had sealed the final knot just beneath her breasts, she found that she could no longer lean forward more than a fraction of an inch; her entire torso being lashed securely to her makeshift mooring post.
Although Suzy was now well and truly trapped on the chair, she still had one or two more items to secure in place before she was satisfied with her handiwork. Firstly, she took a black leather collar and tied one end of a short length of rope to the attached D ring. Putting the collar on, she secured the buckle at her throat, with the rope dangling at the rear of her neck. Reaching around, she sightlessly grabbed the free end of the rope, swiftly wound this around the top horizontal bar of the chair-back, pulled it taut so that her neck was forced backwards, then secured a knot which prevented her moving her head forwards again.
Suzy’s bondage was now almost complete. First, however, she slipped long black spandex gloves over each hand and pulled them up as high as they would stretch, which was just above her elbows. Next she took two pairs of tights, which she had previously rolled up into one tight ball, and pushed this into her mouth. The ball was too large, once wedged behind her teeth, to allow her to completely close her jaw. Nor would it be particularly easy to spit out. Not easy, but not impossible however. And for this reason Suzy knew that if this gag was going to effectively silence her, then she had to take action to prevent this being a viable option. To this end, she picked up a roll of grey duct tape off the bed, placed one end over her mouth and proceeded to wrap the instantly bonding tape around her face and lower head. Several circumnavigations later, each of which had been strategically placed either slightly higher or lower than the one before, her face, from chin to just below her nose, was smothered in a mass of tape, with the rolled up tights now sealed beneath.
Almost finished now, Suzy picked up her prized possession, a set of metal handcuffs that still had the key protruding from the lock on one of the bracelets. Testing the key in both locks to ensure that the release mechanisms still functioned correctly, she removed the key and placed it on her lap. Reaching around behind her, she looped one bracelet through the rope at her waist just behind the struts on the chair-back.
At this point she had originally intended to use the two remaining items on the bed – a leather sleep mask and a spandex hood that matched both her cat-suit and the gloves. However, from where she had positioned the chair, she realised that she could view herself in the full length mirror, and the thought of being able to watch herself struggling and writhing for the duration of her bondage game now appealed to her more than the option of being sightless. For once, she decided, she would forego the blindfold and hood, at least for the time being anyway. Later, if she got the urge, she could always unlock the handcuffs momentarily and add these to her vast array of bonds, then cuff herself again. With this decision made Suzy placed both arms behind the chair. Encircling her left wrist in the waiting manacle was easy enough, as she could use her right hand to help the process along. The sound of the ratchets slowly clicking, together with a tightening of the metal bracelet, soon informed her that this part of the exercise had been successfully accomplished and that her hand could not now be removed.
Picking up the key from her lap, Suzy transferred this to her already shackled hand then tried to wriggle her right wrist into the still vacant cuff. This was a far more difficult feat, however, and it took at least two minutes before she finally had her wrist in the correct position. Pushing the cuff closed was also far from straight forward, as she didn’t dare use her left hand, for fear of dropping the key. However, pushing her wrist against the back of the chair, she managed to get the two arms of the cuff to converge, and the first click of the ratchet informed her that she was nearly there. Now, slowly and with great care, she transferred the key from her left to her right hand then used the left to complete her bondage. Click...click...click...she felt the bracelet tighten to the extent that she now knew that her hand could not be prized out of the encircling steel.
For an hour or two – it was easy to quickly lose track of time during these wonderful bondage sessions – Suzy luxuriated in her helplessness. She had, since she was young, always fantasized about being kidnapped and held for long periods of time in extreme and inescapable bondage, and the fact that she could view her mirror image wriggling and squirming in a mock battle to escape, proved an exhilarating experience. With her feet pulled up beneath her, her thighs and torso lashed securely to the chair, and the tethered collar restricting the movement of her head, Suzy could hardly move at all. Added to this was the fact that the handcuffs had been looped within the strict rope around her waist, which meant that she couldn’t move her hands away from the back of the chair. The only parts of her with any freedom at all, in fact, were her elbows and upper arms. It wasn’t that she had neglected or forgotten to attempt immobilisation of this part of her anatomy; far from it, in fact. In the past, she had experimented with elbow ties on many occasions. But she had discovered that it was almost impossible to create tight, authentic self bondage in this area and so she had given up. Better not to bother, she had decided, than to have her whole bondage session ruined by some loose, ineffective rope-work that fell away at the slightest movement of her arms. Someday, she hoped, she would be able to experience the sensation of having her upper arms pulled back behind her and securely trussed together. At the moment, however, she had no idea when that time might arrive.
Time moved on, with Suzy having no desire to end her bondage session. She was enjoying the delights that the sensation of inescapable ropes produced so much that she could, she thought, quite happily remain this way for the rest of the day. This carefree attitude to her situation was clouded only be one small nagging worry. What if she dropped the key? Although if this occurred it would only fall a couple of feet to the bedroom floor, it would be impossible, in her present state, to reach down and retrieve it. For this reason, she kept the hand that held the key clenched in a tight fist at all times; only occasionally transferring it from one hand to another, in order to stretch and exercise her fingers.
It must have been getting on for midday, when Suzy was suddenly awakened from her bondage fantasies by the sound of someone knocking on the door of her flat. Who could that be? She certainly wasn’t expecting anyone. At this point she was not concerned however. Give whoever it was a minute or two and they’d go away assuming that she was not at home. At least that was how she guessed things would turn out. So it was with great surprise, not to mention dismay, when she heard the familiar sound of the door opening. Damn it! She cursed herself for not locking the door.
This was the unmistakable voice of her friend Megan, and it was soon clear, from a second voice that quickly followed, that she was not on her own.
“Suzy....where are you? You left the door unlocked”
This voice was also instantly recognisable as Julia, another of her closest friends. Suzy cursed herself again, this time for letting her friends know that she’d taken the day off work. If she’d kept quiet, they wouldn’t be here now.
What should she do? Should she kee
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