Another Thursday, another desired bout with “Master Dice”. “Master Dice” is the silly little self-tie dice game I made not to have lack of partner or inspiration keeping me from my sometimes much needed and desired being tied up. Nowadays, “Master Dice” is actually an interactive web-page that both translates virtual dice rolls into clear-text instructions and at the same time generates the bulk of the reports, courtesy of a kind hacker friend of mine, saving me the efforts of both keeping track of a growing bunch of cheat sheets as the game evolves and of spending a lot of time writing these reports from scratch, which was becoming a growing distraction from the actual experience. This time, “He” made me strip naked, pack my bag with lube for dildos and plugs, two pairs of hinged metal police-cuffs, a huge dildo (203×64 mm skin-colored silicon) for impaling my pussy, a huge anal cone (178×76 mm black TPE) for filling my ass, a sisal rope (4 m, 8 mm brown sisal hemp) for splitting my crevice, zipties (2 pairs, 450×4.8 mm black nylon) for tying my boobs, and pet rubber bands (3 pairs, small black for coat styling) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black nylon panties, that might literally fill in as a provisory gag later, yellow as clothing color, T-shirt, and heavy makeup.
“He” had me spend some of my lunch break in a toilet, again stripped naked, standing with ankles cuffed and hands cuffed back with the police-cuffs, trying to pet myself towards a pretty awkward orgasm. I had to stop just short of cumming, and “He” then denied me cumming, leaving me very hot and frustrated. After freeing myself, I used the toilet, but was not permitted to wipe myself, to really soil my panties, got dressed and returned to my desk, eating in front of my laptop and trying to get my focus back on work.
After work, “He” had me go down to a storage room in the basement, again strip naked and adorn myself with the pet rubber bands torturing my nipples. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed but without my panties, hiding my adornment, by crowded bus. On my way home, the pet rubber bands keeping my nipples rock hard and sensitive while nudged by the clothes, was making the trip a bit interesting and mostly pleasure.
When I came home, “He” had me strip naked again, but keeping my adornments, then gagging myself with a harness panel gag with penis plug, adding 5 wooden clothespins with 100 g weights on each outer labia, and a bullet vibrator taped to my clit on high intensity. For the final tie, “He” had me use duct tape (50 mm wide silver tape, with police-cuffs to secure the wrists) after arranging a 0.5 hour ice timer for my release, with the necessary keys and cutter, plus my usual backup of a text with an estimated time I was to be free and texting again to an informed friend. “He” had me arrange myself balancing on a stool under a ceiling hook, with a shoulder harness, my ankles bound tight together, my neck noosed and stretched up taut by an easy slipknot to a safety fastening on the ceiling hook, an execution hood over my head, and my hands tied high up my back to the shoulder harness (the timer dropped the keys on the floor so I had to step off the stool, the safety fastening letting me dangle by my neck for a few seconds before it broke and dropped me to the floor where I could search for and retrieve the keys).
When I was done, I was thoroughly thrilled and excited by my helplessness, and the discomforts I was forced to accept and endure because of it. My only way out was the ice timer holding my release, way out of reach up under the ceiling, or if that failed, my backup that hopefully eventually would come to check up why I had not texted her again, using her spare key to let herself in and find me. I tested my ties, happy and aroused to find them tight and secure, just the way I desired them. As almost always, my imagination kicked in, building fantasies of me being found and caught, used and abused, a helpless sex-toy played with in every way imaginable and perhaps a few ways unimaginable as well, teased and tormented much harder than I was now, taken away and kept, or abandoned and left without hope or release, making a mixture of arousal, panic and agony whirl through my mind. The vibrator on my clit kept buzzing, forcing me to more and more painful and maddening orgasms as my battered clit grew more and more sore from the intense vibrations.
Eventually, my time was done, and I went for my release. After having recovered some, I texted my informed friend that I was free, sanitized myself, cleaned up the mess I left when I freed myself and then wrote this report.