Mondays and Thursdays, I often try to spice things up some by bringing my kinky hobby to work. The reason for those particular weekdays is because they seem convenient to me and usually without anything scheduled after work. I try to do it every week, but sometimes reality and biology doesn’t permit. “Master Dice” is in charge as usual, but with a few variations to when I just tie myself up at home.
Before I dress in the morning, I let “Master Dice” decide what to bring to work, to let anticipation build some during the day and for a teaser starting right after work before really tying myself up when I get home. Today, I pack my bag of tricks and treats with clover clamps for my nipples, flag ropes (5 mm polyester, 2 lengths of 7.2 m, length also decided by “Master Dice”) to tie my breasts up around their bases to make them swell and bulge obscenely, a huge anal cone (178 x 76 mm black TPE) for my poor anal, a moderate sized but uncomfortably hard dildo (152 x 40 mm plastic), a scratchy sisal hemp rope to tie around my waist and through my crotch, both to rub and chafe my sensitive parts and to hold any stuffing in my lower orifices securely in.
“Master Dice” also decides for me to wear black cotton panties to work, which may later become the soiled stuffing of my mouth gag, and otherwise red as the theme of todays work outfit and my hair done in a high ponytail.
My awareness of the end of the day nearing and the options when I go home has kept me a bit tingling during much of my workday. But it’s not until just before I go home that “Master Dice” lets me know what to actually put on. I do this in a storage room in our office building, rarely visited by anyone, even less so late in the afternoon.
Here, “Master Dice” tells me to use all the things I brought from home, so I’ll be going home with my used panties stuffed in my mouth, nipple clamps, tied breasts, my anal filled and stretched painfully hard, and my pussy stuffed, teased and tormented by a rough rope. Soon, my tightly tied up and bulging breasts are throbbing, aching and starting to turn purple from the tight tie I managed thanks to the long and compliant ropes. I love both the sensations in my swelling breasts and the look of it. Like for most women, my breasts are a bit asymmetrical, the right one being a bit larger than the left one, but by starting tying the left one, it gets a head start in “sucking up” skin and tissue, making my breasts almost identically sized and shaped twins when I’m done tying. The tight tie and the resulting lift and swelling also bring back some of the firmness that age and gravity has otherwise deprived them of.
The huge anal cone is the worst today, taking 15-20 minutes and a lot of lube to soften up my rear sphincter enough for it to finally accept the oversized intruder and being permitted to close some around its slightly less thick neck, still leaving my sphincter painfully stretched though.
For the trip home, “Master Dice” decides it’s enough to go home without just the panties, which are otherwise occupied stuffed into my mouth, invisible from the outside, but keeping me very aware how hot and juicy the anticipation of this afternoon’s and evening’s ordeal has made me. However, my way of getting home will be by walking through a park area, mostly frequented by joggers and dog owners at this time of day, and to stop 6 times on the way to rub my clit to orgasm. That will be hard with all the people passing and the fact that neither the heels I chose for work this morning, nor walking barefoot among a lot of broken glass, dog poop and other goodies, encourages me to go far from the paved and frequented path.
Still, I have managed to get home, fulfilling the orders from “Master Dice”, although a few times very embarrassed from people passing much too close for my taste while I was standing gasping, moaning and orgasming. The experience has also left me with a very sensitive pussy, both from the rough sisal hemp rope rubbing and chafing, and from the series of orgasms.
At home, I have stripped naked, save for my high heels, and “Master Dice” has ordered me to change my gag for a lockable harness ball gag, add a wide, black leather collar, nooses with 500 h weights to each already abused and hurting nipple, a vibrating egg on high intensity taped to my already sensitive and sore clit, leather cuffs for wrists and ankles, leather straps as a shoulder harness, to pin my knees together and my arms to my torso, and an ice timer for 2.5 hours. With that done and prepared, I send my usual safety text, “Busy until 22:30”, to a friend, alerting that if she hasn’t heard from me before then, I’m in real trouble.
I finalized the setup, arranging myself standing balancing on a chair with ankles and thighs locked and strapped together, a rope noose from an easy slipknot around my neck above the collar, stretched up taut to a safety fastening on the ceiling hook (really just a metal ring tied to the hook with a single turn of parcel jute cord, able to hold 30-40 kg before it over-stretches and snaps) which would break after a few seconds if I would fall or step off the chair, the latter which would be necessary to get the keys dropped on the floor when the timer expired. To make things harder and more severe, I added an execution hood over my head, held tight around my neck by the noose, which would help me with neither keeping my balance nor find the keys once dropped, despite the piece of sturdy chain attached to them, to facilitate both their falling all the way and my finding them. Then I turned on the vibrator on my clit, tightened the strap pinning my arms and padlocked my wrist cuffs together and to the shoulder harness holding them high up my back and very useless.
It was a wild and very intense ride. I struggled to stay on the chair, despite both the hood disorienting me, and the countless painful and strong orgasms rocking my body and soul, again and again, shattering all my focus. Somehow I managed though, still reeling on the chair despite having half strangled myself a number of times, when I felt the keys on their heavy chain fall and bounce off my shoulder. I had already had more than enough, so I didn’t wait but immediately shuffled until I felt my feet tipping off the chair, the noose around my neck yanking tight as I hung suspended from it for a few seconds, just enough for a panicked attempt to gasp before I crashed down on the floor, a “fall” of probably just a decimeter or so from where I had hung, but enough for me to lose balance and fall forward, letting my swollen, aching and very sore breasts and nipples take the brunt of my fall in an explosion of intense pain. I lay gasping as the pain faded, no longer stopped by the noose, which had loosened the same instant as the safety fastening broke, before I started to search for the keys.
I found the keys in just a few minutes, with a minimum of worming around on the floor, but to find the right key and fit it into the padlock of my wrist cuffs with my hands trembling from adrenaline and the orgasms still delivered by the vibrating egg, although no longer as intense and painful as when its batteries were fresh, took a lot longer. Eventually I was all free, exhausted, sore and hurting, but very satisfied in most respects of the word. I just left the mess as was, managed to text “free now” to my friend, stumbled past the kitchen and slowly drank a glass of orange juice while I paid a visit to the bathroom before continuing to the bedroom and crashing on my bed, not caring how sweaty and smelly I was, and asleep within a minute, possibly even before my head had landed on the pillow.
I didn’t post this until I had finished it the day after the actual event, because there was no power in heaven or on Earth that could have made me focus on typing the last paragraphs in the shape I was yesterday night. I was completely drained and my head completely empty, and I doubt I could even have described what happened unless I had been able to reconstruct some of it from the traces I left, everything from the heap of toys on the floor, via the unflushed WC to the almost finished glass of stale orange juice on my bedside table. But, enough of the gibberish and time to get back to work, today without any extras.