Another week, another Monday, another play with “Master Dice”. I do as always, packing my bag of tricks and treats while naked, making me feel a bit naughty. Today’s load, decided by “Master Dice”, is the now regular lube for dildos and plugs and two pairs of hinged metal police cuffs with keys, followed by the spiky ball (60 mm, soft spiky dental dog ball) for stuffing my pussy, anal beads (5 x 40 mm black silicon balls) for stuffing my anal, the mean and scratchy sisal rope (4 m, 8 mm sisal hemp) for fashioning a crotch harness, cinching my waist and being pulled tight between my labia and ass cheeks, more sisal rope (2 x 3.6 m, 8 mm sisal hemp) for tying my breasts tight around their bases, and pet rubber bands (3 pairs, small for coat styling) for tying and tormenting my nipples.
My outfit and styling for today is ordered to be red cotton panties, which may later become a mouth gag, yellow as base clothing color, a T-shirt, hairdo with free hair and a heavy makeup. I use what freedom is left to me to add a bra, stockings and high heel pumps with ankle straps, a tight skirt almost down to my knees with a wide black belt as an accent, and a short raincoat. Save for the color, this is not one of my more extreme outfits, so I will survive the trip to work and my day in it.
After work, I as usual retreated to our basement storage room, where the real fun began. According to the adjustments to the game last week, I stripped naked, save for my shoes and stockings, and then “Master Dice” ordered me to add the spiky ball shoved into my pussy, the sisal rope tight between my labia and ass cheeks, both securing the ball inside me and keeping me aware of its presence by rubbing, chafing and roughing up my most sensitive parts with every step, 3 pet rubber bands on each nipple, doubled to make them extra tight and strong, and turning my nipples into some mushroom-like, aching and very sensitive appearance, and finally my worn panties stuffed into my mouth, invisible from the outside but very humiliating and reminding me of how juicy my pussy became during the day in anticipation of this.
Before heading home, “Master Dice” ordered me to shuffle around naked, with wrists cuffed back and ankles hobbled, using the hinged metal police cuffs, for 10 minutes, while teasing any erogenous areas I could reach, but not to orgasm. Again, humiliation at its finest, making me feel very silly and ridiculous at first, but after 10 minutes of playing with what was accessible around the crotch rope, of my anal sphincter, perineum, vaginal opening, and teasing what I could reach of my breasts and nipples, the humiliation, shifting of the ball in my vagina, rubbing from the crotch rope and teasing from my fingers and hands, had gotten me pretty hot. When free again, “Master Dice” ordered me to stay naked with just my coat as a cover, and to go home by bus, usually meaning crowding with a lot of people at that time. Having people rubbing up against me while I’m very aware of what I (don’t) have under my coat will be real embarrassing and make me feel pretty slutty.
I got home without any incidents, save for some very hot cheeks from embarrassment and from trying to remain calm while pussy ball, crotch rope and tightly tied, rock hard, aching and very sensitive nipples being rubbed by the coat with every move were doing their best to drive me totally insane. Also, my pussy was pretty raw from the rough rope, even after just the short walks to and from the bus. After stripping naked inside, just saving my shoes and stockings, “Master Dice” had me replace the soaked panties in my mouth with a ring gag, forcing my mouth wide open, and a wooden tongue clamp, being both arousingly uncomfortable and making me drool and slobber all over myself, a wide black leather collar, forcing my chin up and restricting movement of my head, 5 wooden clothespins with 100 g weights on each outer labia, providing an actually rather stimulating and arousing pinch and pull on the sensitive folds, a urethra catheter, inflated once I had manage to insert it and injected a 300 ml bladder fill, making me feel an instant and strong urge to relieve myself, but plugged so that feeling and humiliation would remain for the duration of the session.
The actual tie was to be performed using the mean and chafing sisal ropes (again 8 mm sisal hemp) for 2.5 hours, and kneeling on my lovely, black, spiked, hard, plastic turf floor mat so the sharp spikes would dig painfully into the upper side of my feet, my shins and my knees, with a shoulder harness fashioned from the ropes, my calves tied to my thighs in a tight frogtie, a tie around my waist fastened down to metal eye in the middle of the mat, forcing me in place, and my hands tied high up back to the shoulder harness. I arranged the timer with the key for a big padlock which would cinch and secure the final tie around my wrists and to the shoulder harness, sent the usual safety text to my informed friend, “Busy until 21:30”, so she know I needed rescue if he hadn’t heard from me before then.
It took quite a bit of time, effort and struggling before I finally managed to finalize the tie by fitting the large padlock around the coil of rope I had slipped my wrists into, and also fastening it to the shoulder harness, cinching and securing the tie when the lock clicked shut. I kept thinking that there must be an easier way to tie my hands in a secure and escape-proof way with ropes, but still able to free myself when time is up. So far, I had found none though, unless I wanted to cut the ropes. It’s just that I’m actually a bit emotionally attached to many of my ropes, even besides some being ridiculously expensive, so I don’t want to destroy them, except in case of an emergency. So, struggling and some cursing was the way for now.
The tie was done, and I was helpless and more or less immobilized. The initially arousing little tortures seemed to increase and become less and less tolerable with time, the tight ties on my nipples making them ache and burn, the spikes on the ball in my pussy digging into the sensitive walls, the tight, scratchy hemp rope chafing my most sensitive spots, the large metal ring forcing my jaws so wide open that my jaw joint soon started aching, the tight wooden clamp holding my tongue securely and increasingly painful, the weighted clamps pinching and pulling my labia hard, the irritating catheter in my urethra and my filled bladder starting to feel like it was about to burst, and the sharp plastic spikes digging into my feet, shins and knees. Trying to stimulate myself by bucking my hips and make the crotch rope rub the pretty raw folds was more painful than arousing, and the same trying to clench on the large, spiked ball in my pussy. I hadn’t thought much about the fact that “Master Dice” denied me any orgasms after I was free again, but as I became more and more aware of the lack of pleasure and abundance of pain during the session, that became a real issue in my mind.
How long can 2.5 hours be? In the situation I was, it started feeling like an eternity. I wished more and more intensely I would have been permitted a vibe on my clit or to give myself at least one orgasm after the ordeal was done, but no such luck. But even despite the hopeless misery, or rather just because of the hopelessness in it, that I could do nothing about it but just try to accept and endure, both my body and my mind started tingling from it, more and more the worse the pains became, keeping me aware and reminded of that I really was just where I wanted to be, tied up tight, utterly helpless, neither able to get free nor able to stop the growing pains.
When the key finally fell, I was very relieved, that I had survived this and could now end it. It was a lot easier to fit the key and unlock the padlock than it had been locking it. I still had a lot of work left though, untying the ropes and finally removing all the tortures, in many cases more painful than it had been waiting with them “just” in place. Every torture had their own “quality” in removing, and I can’t really compare to say which was worst, but by the time I could stumble to the bathroom to remove the last, the urethra catheter and with it being able to finally relieve my desperate and painful urge to pee, I was sobbing hard and my face was streaked by tears.
While I was sitting on the WC, much longer than it took to empty my bladder, my head was spinning with thoughts. I wondered how many “dominants” that would feel comfortable pushing a partner they loved or cared about as hard as I had pushed myself today, even if I used “Master Dice” as a proxy to do it. I was sure that none of the ones I had experience from would have done it. Short, intense bursts of pain, even much worse than the levels I had endured today, yes, but letting it go on for hours, with a partner in real and very clear distress, sobbing and crying, no. Even if they rationally knew I needed and desired it, at least every now and then, they couldn’t handle it emotionally.
I guess that’s one of the few real advantages with tying myself up, that I can be really helpless for the duration, without any chance or hope to affect my partner with negotiating, pleading or showing distress, neither by words nor by body language. Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy sexual pleasure as much as anyone, and orgasms, especially “forced” ones while being tied up, are a huge bonus, but it’s not a must to make neither sex nor being tied up worthwhile.
Finally done, both with my physical needs and my thoughts, I started filling the bath tub, feeling I at least needed the comfort and pleasure of relaxing in a warm bath for a while, even if it was late, and then went to clean up the mess I had left in the play room. The bath was heaven, and I soon felt almost as relaxed and content as if I had an orgasm or a few. I actually dozed off from the warm embrace, and it took me a while to react to a sound I heard in another room. Then it hit me, it was the text buzz on my cell phone and I had forgotten to send the OK text to my friend. I was out of the bath and dashed to the playroom where I had left the cell, not bothering to neither dry nor covering myself. Sure enough, there was the text from my friend, “U ok???” I cursed myself and felt very guilty as I texted back “Yes. Sorry!!! I was distracted.” I couldn’t help but giggle when her return text came in just a few seconds “Ok. U bad grl!” My reply “Sorry mama!” brought me a pout back.
So much for relaxing. I sighed a little as I returned to the bathroom, showered quickly, dried myself and wrapped myself in my robe before drying up the minor flooding I left on the floor during my wet dash. Despite the incident, I actually feel a bit refreshed from it. I guess I kind of needed that distraction to kick me out of the somewhat odd mood I was in after the session. Also, it means it won’t become a quite as late night as it might have been otherwise, and it is another workday tomorrow, without the distractions and ordeals from “Master Dice”.