I wasn’t very keen on the idea, and I tried to give the reasons to my “spare key” friend, but she didn’t really seem to listen. I suspected that she either was a bit tickled by the idea herself, or that her boyfriend was leaning on her, or both. She first tried to give me some pretty lame excuses, but eventually she told me that it had been kind of a kick when she and her boyfriend had sneaked by to check on me when I had tied myself up outdoors, “inspiring” her boyfriend quite some, no doubt letting her have the benefit of it, even if she didn’t say so directly.
I had met her boyfriend a few times socially, even before he saw me in a pretty hard and embarrassing selftie, and he seemed a nice guy, perhaps a bit too nice for her needs, and I found him kind of cute in the way he tried to live up to his own prejudices about how a dominant man should be, which contrasted some to his actual personality. But still, I liked him, and could live with that he had seen me in my selftie, but still worried some about how an encore could affect their relationship. She laughed some at my warnings about making him expect her to do all the tying up herself so he didn’t have to sweat with it, about inspiring him to elope with me, or to turn him into a bottom if he tested some himself and found out the charm of being helplessly tied up. Once, I would probably have laughed at it as well, but experience had taught me that all those outcomes were very real possibilities.
Whatever my friend lacks in logic and rhetoric, she makes up for in quantity of words, and eventually I saw no option but giving in, to save both my ears and my mind. Her or her boyfriend’s idea was really kind of simple and shouldn’t cost me any. I was to perform a selftie, text her that it was on, as usual when I used her as my “spare key”, but instead of waiting until it was supposed to be over, and if not getting an all clear text, they would drop by to check on me while I was still tied up. Just checking, mind you, no poking or other interference, and when they had enough they’d just leave me to my own devices, unless of course there would be an actual emergency, something that had never happened under all the years she had been my “spare key”, while I had had to come rescue her 4 times during the first years, before she found her boyfriend and could leave tying herself up behind.
In all honesty I had been naive enough to think I could give up tying myself up too, after recent events reminded me of the huge difference between doing it to myself and having a willing, inventive and wicked partner doing it to me, but the result had been that my fantasies and dreams had become more and more brutal and scary, telling me that my body and parts of my mind still needed that kind of stimulation. My needs got the better of me pretty soon, so I called her during the week to ask if Saturday would work, not thinking about it being Halloween (or rather All Hallows here), since I don’t celebrate it much, and she agreed enthusiastically, commenting it would be the best trick or treat ever.
I had decided to dump “Master Dice”, the dice game I invented to tell me how to tie myself up, for now, and instead used my own imagination, perhaps not the best decision in the state three weeks without being tied up had left me. Both my body and mind craved something pretty hard, and I guess both the feeling of some safety from the presence of spectators, and the slightest touch of exhibitionism to make a good impression on those spectators, pushed me a bit further than I normally would have gone.
Saturday noon found me showered, hair done, in makeup, which I suspected would be a waste and a mess before long, high heels and nothing more.
I started with my nipples, sucking each one into erection using a suction cup, and fitting a tight hangman’s noose from 1 mm jute twine tight around its base, keeping it stiff and engorged. Next was my breasts, me tying each one tight around its base using 6 mm jute rope, so they swelled, bulged and shifted color towards purple, making the twine bite in more painfully into the nipples as the skin went taut and glistening. I tied off the rope ends securely, leaving me with about 2 meters of free rope end dangling down from the knots on top of each breast. The final addition was to tie the cord from the nipples around the free rope end close to its knot, and tighten it until it stretched each nipple some.
My clit received the same treatment as my nipples, being suctioned and noosed tight with the jute twine until it turned into a deep purple, glistening little pearl, a bit painful at first, but soon far more arousing than painful. Each outer labium was clamped and stretched by 5 strong clothespins, each with a dangling 100 g weight attached, again soon far more arousing than painful. It took some work and time to work the large silicon bardex nozzle into my ass, after first lubricating it by pushing it deep into my almost dripping pussy, and then I pumped the inner bulb until the nozzle expanded enough to be secured inside me. I then slowly pushed a huge black silicon dildo, 229×76 mm, into my pussy. Despite me being both hot and extremely wet, it took some time and pain to work it in, as it stretched my vagina hard both in width and towards the end in girth as well. I stood panting and trembling from being stretched so hard, both painfully and arousing, with just the large bottom end of the dildo partly visible between my stretched labia.
My vagina was so tight on the huge dildo that the dildo didn’t move one bit even when I let go of it with my hands, wrapping another length of 6 mm jute rope doubled and several turns around my waist, before knotting it rear, pulling the free ends down between my buttocks and then very tight up front between my outer labia, straddling my tied clit and securing the two large intruders in my lower orifices. I then reached down and pumped up the silicon bardex nozzle, first the inner part until it was stretching my rectum hard, almost painfully, and creating a very uncomfortable pinch on the sensitive membrane between vagina and rectum, and then the outer bulb, pinching my sphincter between the two bulbs and creating a tight seal around the nozzle.
I climbed the ladder up to the ceiling hook, being reminded of my wicked decorations with every move, arranging a chain locked to a horizontal spreader bar with a padlock, a full 1 gallon enema bag with a long, clamped tube and a piece of jute twine tied to the clamp, and the ice timer with the keys, set to approximately 2 hours, then climbed down again, put away the ladder and put a high stool under the ceiling hook. I saw to that I had everything else I needed within reach, tucking most on my waist belt. 4 more lengths of 8 mm jute rope, another length of 1 mm jute twine, one large brass padlock, 2 clover clamps, each with a 0.5 kg weight attached, another rubber-padded clamp with a vibrator attached and a controller, a moderate-sized soft silicon dildo, 152×38 mm, and a roll of duct tape. I thought things through once more, checked the cache of stuff on my belt, and decided that was it.
I hesitated some before I sent the usual text to my “spare key” friend, “Busy until 15:00”, to let her know I was about to tie myself and when I should be free again if things worked out, then went to work on the final arrangements.
It took me several attempts before I realized there was no way for me to climb onto the stool and stand up on it. I cursed myself for not checking such a simple thing beforehand, while my sex-hazed mind was working overtime trying to find a solution. Finally I brought the ladder back, making it easy to climb up and over to the stool, before pushing the ladder away, out of reach from how I soon would be set up.
I stood balancing while I adjusted the height of the spreader bar, and connected the tubing from the enema bag to the bardex nozzle, passing them front between my thighs, not to be able to manipulate them once my hands were tied behind my back, the clamp on the tube still in place so no liquid flowing. Then I lowered myself into a squatting position, stretched the ropes from my tied breasts tightly to the ends of the spreader bar and knotted them securely to the rings there, stretching the nooses on my nipples harder but the support helping my balance some. I then tied the twine from the enema clamp tight to my waist belt, and then used one length of hemp rope to tie each calf to the corresponding thigh in a tight frogtie, making my balancing act even harder. I knotted two coils of the remaining lengths of rope, one rather tight and the other one a bit wider, with the long, free ends of the rope in a loose cinch around the middle of the coil and then hanging down as two long tails.
It was time for the finale. Normally, I just had one “evil” thing I needed to overcome while finishing my tie, but this time it was three. The first I chose was the dildo, pushing it into my mouth, tilting my head up some and relaxing my throat muscles as it slid deep into my throat, until the end plate was tight against my lips, then wrapping duct tape around the lower part of my face until the dildo was hidden, but with the contour of its bottom plate visible through the tight layers of tape, and securing the dildo deep in my throat. Next was the two weighted clover clamps on my nipples, making me whine from the pain as they bit into and tore at the tied and bulging buds. The last was the worst, as I flipped on the control to the vibrator on the remaining clamp and put it in place on my tightly tied and very sensitive clit. The sensation was overwhelming, from the intense mixture of pain from the clamp and pleasure from the vibrator.
I tried to shut down my senses while I threaded my arms into the larger coil of rope remaining, throwing the tails over my shoulders on either sides of my neck and hanging down my front, managing to get the coil up and rather tight around my upper arms just above my elbows, and then reached the tails with one hand, yanking on them to tighten the cinch until my elbows almost touched behind my back, before threading them under the crotch ropes front and tying them off around them. There was no way I could get out of the elbow tie as long as it was fastened like that. Next, I threaded my wrists through the smaller coil of rope, after some fumbling managing to cinch it with the large padlock and lock it around the crotch ropes back as well, so there was no way to get my hands out of the tie, or wave my hands around, any struggle just pulling the already right crotch rope even tighter into my crevice. It was done, and I was very helpless, in an almost perfect and unbearable mix of pleasure, pain and peril.
The first orgasm built fast and must have hit within a minute, making me moan, pant and gasp as best as I could with my breath limited by the dildo deep down my throat, and it went on and on and on. My body shook and I squirmed hard in my precarious position balancing on the stool. The outcome was inevitable, and I barely registered how I lost my balance and fell as the stool tipped over, almost immediately stopped by a painful yank on my breasts and nipples, as both the breast ties and nipple ties were stretched taut. I tried to scream, but just a low gurgle made its way up my stuffed throat. Still, I kept screaming, from the overload of both pleasure and pain, as I hung there, squirming from the sensations and shaking from the continuing orgasm or orgasms, unable to tell if it was just one long orgasm with multiple peaks or a long series of orgasms.
My short fall had yanked the clamp of the enema tubing as well, letting the water run through the nozzle and fill my bowels, at first a thrilling and almost pleasurable feeling, but soon growing to painful cramps as the full gallon filled me up. Still, not even that added discomfort and pain was enough to stop the vibrating clamp on my clit from pushing me over the edge again and again. The sensory overload was so great that I felt my consciousness starting to blur, actually hoping for me to lose it, to get away from the unbearable sensations. There was no way distinguishing pleasure and pain but it was just too much, much more than I could handle, and still I could do absolutely nothing about it. And I never lost my conscious, at least I don’t think so.
I didn’t become aware of my visitors before they were standing in front of me, inspecting me, my “spare key” friend with wide eyes and an almost shocked facial expression, her boyfriend seemingly amazed and with a definite horny gaze, even licking his lips, and not in a theatrical way. I tried to communicate my distress and desperation to them, hoping I could make them understand I needed to get out of this now, immediately, not waiting for God knows how much longer before the ice released my keys. I tried to plead, but even I had to realize the gurgling sounds I managed past my deep throat gag were totally unintelligible.
They were commenting and discussing, probably me, but despite I heard them, standing just a couple of meters away from me, I was unable to comprehend what they said. I registered how my “spare key” stripped naked, her boyfriend handcuffing her hands back and adding moderately weighted clamps on her nipples, then guiding her to her knees, grabbing her hair, unzipping his fly, pulling his meat out and shoving it into her mouth. She started working her lips and tongue on it, seemingly eager, while one of her cuffed hands was wedged in between her buttock, from the movements apparently playing with her own anal or pussy. They had their sides to me, offering me a full view of what they were doing, both with their heads turned and ogling me. The bastards, the fucking bastards, the utterly miserable fucking bastards, they were using me and my misery as some kind of porno show, enjoying my torture from the overload of sensations while they seemed to have a real good time with nice and balanced pleasure, and perhaps the slightest of pain from the nipple clamps for my “spare key”.
The humiliation from being ogled and “used” like that really got to me, in a really odd way, making me hotter and my peaks even more intense, making my blurred mind decide if they wanted a show, I’d really give them a show. I squirmed harder, tossed my head, moaned and gurgled even louder as each peak shook my body, tried to meet their eyes, communicating my heat, showing off like a kinky total slut, enjoying my act, not really acting but just letting go totally. I enjoyed seeing how it affected them, how my “spare key’s” hand worked faster in her crotch, how her boyfriend yanked her head and mouth by her hair in a faster pace on his cock.
He cummed first, groaning loud as he pumped his load into her mouth, holding her head still as she gulped it down and started washing his cock with her tongue, her hand still working frantically between her buttocks until she cummed as well, shaking and whimpering, her eyes still locked with mine. He pulled her up by her hair to standing, turned her towards me and embraced her from behind, one hand slipping down between her thighs, rubbing her slit hard and diving deep into her orifice, while the other hand, having let go of her hair, played with her breasts and still clamped nipples, fondling, slapping, pulling and twisting.
They were both staring at me, and I continued my show, met their eyes, saw the fire grow in her eyes again as he was pushing her higher and higher with his ministrations, her eyes going wide and uncontrolled squeal from pleasure bursting from her mouth as she cummed again, shaking violently, he supporting her but continuing his play, not letting her off, forcing yet another orgasm from her body soon after, and one more, and then another one. I don’t know how many times she cummed, but eventually she was hanging limp in his arms, he just holding and gently caressing her, having been kind enough to remove the nipple clamps during her final orgasm. My own arousal faded some as well, despite the vibrating clamp and other sensations still being maddening in their intensity, and I felt both envy and pity for my “spare key”, envy because of the tender aftercare, pity because of the puny pleasure she had been permitted.
As my “spare key” was freed from the handcuffs, she slowly and a bit wobbly got dressed again. Both she and her boyfriend smiled at me, and she blew me a long kiss before they both disappeared and left me hanging, still convulsing from the forced orgasms, but far less strong now, and the pain becoming more and more prominent. I don’t know how long I hung there alone, but eventually I felt a thump on my shoulder as my keys fell. By now, I was composed enough to haul them home by the cord they were hanging from, find the key to the padlock on my wrist tie, trying not to stress and fumble despite the severe pain making me really want and need to get out immediately, and then get the tie off my wrists. It was surprisingly easy to untie the rope holding my elbow tie, so I could soon get out of that one as well, my shoulders and upper arms very stiff and aching from the long strained position.
I was tempted to unlock the padlock holding the spreader my breasts were tied to, letting myself crash to the floor to get out as soon as possible, but it would mean an about 1 meter drop with a good chance of really hurting myself, so I first untied my frogtied legs, still leaving my dangling feet a few decimeters off the floor, but I took that risk and unlocked the padlock, landing hard on my feet and ending up in a heap on the floor as neither balance nor muscles were in best shape. I removed the nipple clamps and nooses, then the clit clamp and noose, whining and gurgling around the dildo in my throat from the intense waves of pain. I was very grateful for the quick release on the hangman’s knot on the nooses, making them possible to just easily unwind from the swollen, hurting and very sensitive nubs. The clamps on my labia hurt too when I removed them, but not nearly as bad as the clit clamp, and my badly hurting breasts were pretty happy when I finally unwound the tight ties around their welted and chafed bases.
Unplugging was next, starting by unwrapping the duct tape around my lower face, feeling like I was yanking a lot of hair loose in the process, and carefully pulling the dildo from my throat and mouth, then untying the crotch ropes and pulling the huge dildo out of my over-stretched and aching vagina. I clamped the bardex nozzle before disconnecting it from the now empty one-gallon bag, unstrapped and kicked off my high heels before getting to my feet and waddling to the bathroom to get rid of the last plug. Sitting down on the WC, I deflated the huge bulb in my rectum and then pulled the nozzle out from my anal, trying to keep clenching not to shower my hand with the contents of my bowels. I almost managed, and once the nozzle and my hand were out of the way, I let go. It felt like I was going to be rocketed off the seat by the violent eruption splashing down into the WC. It felt like it lasted for many minutes, leaving me feeling very weak and drained in more than one way before the deluge turned into a trickle, then small squirts and finally stopped.
When I got up from the seat and stumbled the few steps to the shower, I felt liquid dripping from my crotch, buttocks and thighs, and running along my legs and feet, so I started by showering the floor, trying not to see or smell the brownish stains, before I rinsed myself. It was tempting to continue with a warm bath, but I would no doubt lose consciousness in it, at best having the US cavalry, i.e. my “spare key” and her boyfriend, coming back for lack of an all clear text, at worst drowning, so I refrained from it, wrapped myself in my soft bath robe and instead went back to the mess I left behind in my playroom, sent a brief text before my totally fucked brain forgot it “Free now. Bastards!”
The answer came before I even had put the phone. “Ur wellcum. Gr8 show. Ur a real pro”. I didn’t miss the no doubt deliberate misspelling, made a grimace and refrained from replying, instead using the adrenalin to clean up the mess, sort some things into my toy chest, others for cleaning in the bathroom, and some for recycling. I was in an odd state, not really drained as I would have expected after the intense session, but feeling like I hadn’t quite landed yet. Thinking back on what I had experienced was enough to make my aching pussy clench lustfully and me feel a small flash of arousal through my body and mind. Still, I was very satisfied, and this session was one of the hottest I had ever experienced at my own mercy.
The guest starring of my “spare key” and her boyfriend definitely worked out better than I had expected. They had kept with our agreement of no interference, and even if I had cursed that some at the time, wishing for both freedom or a few helping hands, the way it had played out left me with a lot fewer complications to worry about. The hardest part had been being forced to watch their play and especially the tender aftercare, while I was left alone, but at the same time, the humiliation of being left out like that, at least up until the aftercare, had actually added quite a bit to my heat. I don’t think I’d want that as a regular element in my selftying sessions, but as a spice every now and then, I think it would be OK, at least if it works like today.