The combination of some wet dreams and knowing Monday is “Master Dice” day made me hope for a hard session, where especially my tingling pussy and soft breasts needed some intense and brutal attention. “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 hard dildo (152×40 mm golden plastic) for stuffing my vagina, anal beads (5 x 40 mm black silicon balls) for filling my ass, a latex hose (4 m, 10 mm) for binding through my cleft, flag rope (2 x 7.2 m, 5 mm white polyester) for tying my breasts, and pet rubber bands (3 pairs, small black for coat styling) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black polyester panties, that might literally fill in as a provisory gag later, T-shirt, and a let down 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 hard dildo pushed into my craving pussy, the used and soiled panties humiliatingly shoved into my mouth, the pet rubber bands torturing my nipples, the anal beads shoved into my tight rectum, and the latex hose splitting my crevice uncomfortably tight but arousing. 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 hard dildo as it moved in my vagina with every step, the arousing feeling from the anal beads in my anal, the slight pinch on the membrane between my two lower stuffings, the lustful and soon slick rubbing through my crotch by the latex hose, the pet rubber bands keeping my nipples rock hard and sensitive 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 almost pure pleasure.
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 a bullet vibrator taped to my clit on low intensity. For the final tie, “He” had me use metal (police-cuffs and chains with padlocks) after arranging a 2.5 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 kneeling tied on my bed with a shoulder harness, my legs frogtied 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. When I had freed my hands, but everything else was still in place, “He” ordered me to masturbate to 1 orgasm. It was desired, after I had been kept so hot for so long. 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.