After a night of wet dreams, I was hot and ready for a day at the control of “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. “He” made me strip naked, pack my bag with lube for dildos and plugs, two pairs of hinged metal police-cuffs, a bottle brush (120×60 mm blue polyester bristles) for stuffing my pussy, an inflatable anal plug (152×38-102 mm black latex) for impaling my rectum, a crotch harness (20 mm wide, sturdy black leather) for tying through my cleft, sisal rope (2 x 7.2 m, 8 mm brown sisal hemp) for binding my tits, and tweezer clamps (1 pair, metal and plastic, adjustable) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with red cotton panties, that might be used as a makeshift gag later, yellow as clothing color, T-shirt, and a high ponytail hairdo.
“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 used and soiled panties humiliatingly pushed into my mouth, the crotch harness splitting my crotch, the sisal ropes binding my boobs tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the inflatable anal plug shoved into my tight ass, and the tweezer clamps tormenting my nipples. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed but without my panties, hiding my adornments, by crowded bus. On my way home, the uncomfortably stretched feeling from the inflatable anal plug in my anal, the interesting rubbing through my crotch by the crotch harness, the rough but exciting sisal 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, the tweezer clamps pinching my nipples hard while nudged by the clothes, 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 harness ball gag, adding a wide black leather collar, and 5 wooden clothespins with 100 g weights on each outer labia. For the final tie, “He” had me use leather (cuffs and straps with padlocks) after arranging a 1.0 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 hogtied on belly on my bed with a shoulder harness, my feet tied together with a tie up to the shoulder harness, 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.
Eventually, my time was done, and I went for my release. When I had freed and relieved myself entirely, “He” ordered me to masturbate to 1 orgasm. I really needed that, for several different reasons. 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.