Once more, my personal self-tie trainer “Master Dice” had a go at me. “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 tug ball (60 mm hard blue rubber bumped dog ball with cord) for filling my vagina, a bardex nozzle (178×50#100 mm inflatable silicon) for stuffing my ass, a polypropylene rope (4 m, 8 mm blue, scratchy) for splitting my crotch, zipties (3 pairs, 450×4.8 mm black nylon) for tying my tits, and clover clamps (1 pair, metal and rubber, hard) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with red nylon panties, that might double as a makeshift gag later, red as clothing color, high-heel pumps, short skirt, and a twintail hairdo, although the weather permitted me to wear high-heel knee-high rubber 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 permitted me to cum once, leaving me somewhat relieved but still pretty hot. 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 zipties binding my boobs tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the polypropylene rope bound through my crotch uncomfortably tight but arousing, the bardex nozzle shoved into my tight rectum, 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 the crowded city center. On my way home, the painfully stretched feeling from the bardex nozzle in my rectum, the painful chafing and rubbing through my crevice by the polypropylene rope, the uncomfortably hard and tight but still exciting zipties 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, 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 uncomfortable. Soon, the cruel crotch rope chafing my pussy raw and sore slowed me down to a mincing waddle, trying to reduce the pain in my crotch.
When I came home, “He” had me strip naked again, but keeping my adornments, then gagging myself with a panel gag with inflatable plug, adding a 2.0 l enema through the bardex nozzle, and a wide black leather collar. 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 barefoot, sitting tied on my bed with a shoulder harness, my legs frogtied, my feet tied together sole to sole, toe by toe and around the blades, a rope around my neck tied down tight to my feet, forcing me into a bundled position, 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 2 orgasms. 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.