After a night of kinky dreams, I was aroused 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. 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 huge dildo (203×64 mm skin-colored silicon) for filling my vagina, anal beads (5 x 40 mm black silicon balls) for stuffing my rectum, a latex hose (4 m, 10 mm) for tying through my crotch, sisal rope (2 x 3.6 m, 8 mm brown sisal hemp) for binding my boobs, and tweezer clamps (1 pair, metal and plastic, adjustable) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black cotton panties, that might literally fill in as a provisional gag later, black as clothing color, and high-heel pumps, although the weather permitted me to wear high-heel knee-high leather boots to and from work.
“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 latex hose tied through my cleft, the tweezer clamps tormenting my nipples, the huge dildo shoved into my pussy, and the used and soiled panties humiliatingly pushed into my mouth. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed but without my panties, hiding my adornments, on foot through a green area, forced to stop 5 times to rub my clit to orgasm. On my way home, the brutal stimulation from the huge dildo as it moved in my vagina with every step, the lustful and soon slick rubbing through my crotch by the latex hose, 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 tightly wound tape gag sealing my lower face, mouth stuffed with a rubber ball (50 mm, hard rubber dog ball), adding nooses with 500 g weights on each nipple, and a bullet vibrator taped to my clit on high 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 on a spiked hard plastic turf floor mat, with a shoulder harness, my calves tied to my thighs in a frogtie, a tie around my waist fastened down to a metal eye in the middle of the mat forcing me in place, and my hands tied high up my back to the shoulder harness (the ice timer dropped the keys on a cord with the cord dangling within reach of my fingers).
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, forcing me to more and more painful and maddening orgasms as my battered clit grew more and more sore from the intense 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 2 orgasms. It was mockery, after the sensory overdose I had already suffered and with my clit as sore as it already was. 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.