The combination of some kinky dreams and knowing Monday is “Master Dice” day made me hope for a hard session, where especially my wet pussy and soft tits 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 bottle brush (120×60 mm blue polyester bristles) for filling my pussy, anal beads (5 x 40 mm black silicon balls) for filling my rectum, a latex hose (4 m, 10 mm) for binding through my crevice, flag rope (2 x 3.6 m, 5 mm white polyester) for tying my tits, and mouse traps (1 pair, wooden, nice) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black polyester panties, that might literally fill in as a makeshift gag later, high-heel platform sandals, and tube top.
“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 flag ropes tying my tits tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the latex hose bisecting my crevice uncomfortably tight but arousing, the bottle brush pushed into my craving vagina, the anal beads pushed into my tight rectum, the mousetraps torturing my nipples, 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 just short of orgasm. On my way home, the painful stimulation from the bottle brush as it shifted 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 nether intruders, the lustful and soon slick rubbing through my crotch by the latex hose, the tight but comfortable flag 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 mousetraps capturing my nipples arousingly 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 quite interesting and mostly pleasure.
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 large foam wad, adding a wide black leather collar, and a bullet vibrator taped to my clit on low intensity. For the final tie, “He” had me use sisal ropes (8 mm sisal hemp, with a big padlock to cinch the wrist tie) after arranging a 0.5 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 sitting on a chair with a piece of spiked hard plastic turf floor mat on its seat, with a shoulder harness, a transparent plastic bag with small breathing holes over my head and secured around my neck, my legs spread wide, my torso and thighs tied to the chair, my ankles and feet hoisted off the floor and tied to the rear of the chair frame, 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, 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 and relieved myself entirely, “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.