Once more, my personal self-tie trainer “Master Dice” had a go at me. “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 tug ball (60 mm hard blue rubber bumped dog ball with cord) for stuffing my vagina, a huge anal cone (178×76 mm black TPE) for filling my anal, a crotch harness (20 mm wide, sturdy black leather) for splitting my crevice, flag rope (2 x 3.6 m, 5 mm white polyester) for tying my boobs, and mouse traps (1 pair, wooden, nice) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black polyester panties, that might be used as a provisory gag later, short skirt, and tied blouse.
“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 ordered me to cum twice, leaving me feeling thoroughly fucked and drained. 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 huge anal cone shoved into my tight anal, the used and soiled panties humiliatingly shoved into my mouth, the tug ball shoved into my wet pussy, the crotch harness bound through my crevice, and the flag ropes binding my tits tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed but without my panties, hiding my adornments, by crowded bus. On my way home, the stimulation from the tug ball as it shifted in my vagina with every step, the overfilled feeling from the huge anal cone in my anal, the painful pinch on the membrane between my two nether fillings, the interesting rubbing through my cleft by the crotch harness, the tight but comfortable flag ropes constricting the base of my breasts and keeping them swollen with a throbbing ache and with the purplish and glistening skin taut and sensitive to the rubbing from the clothes when I moved, and the soiled panties humiliatingly stuffed and hidden in my mouth but still arousing me and the taste of myself reminding me how hot these games make me, was making the trip rather interesting and comfortable.
When I came home, “He” had me strip naked again, but keeping my adornments, then gagging myself with a ring gag with wooden tongue clamp, adding nooses with 500 g weights on each nipple, and a bullet vibrator taped to my clit on low intensity. For the final tie, “He” had me use sisal ropes (8 mm sisal hemp, with a big padlock to cinch the wrist tie) after arranging a 2.0 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 barefoot, standing with a shoulder harness and sharp thumbtacks taped to my breasts (over my nipples and areolas), my buttocks (sit area), the front of my knees, the sides of my hips, the sides of my upper arms, the soles of my feet (the foot arch), each length of duct tape with 7 thumbtacks in a loose flower shape, my feet tied together with a tie up to the shoulder harness, forcing me to crouch, and my hands tied high up my back to the shoulder harness, being set up in another room than the release timer, requiring me to move to the next room for my release.
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, slowly building and maintaining my pleasure, pushing me over the edge a few times from the moderate 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.