The combination of some kinky dreams and knowing Thursday is “Master Dice” day made me hope for a hard ordeal, where especially my hot pussy and big 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 hard dildo (152×40 mm golden plastic) for stuffing my vagina, a huge anal cone (178×76 mm black TPE) for filling my ass, a latex hose (4 m, 10 mm) for bisecting my crevice, ankle irons (2 pairs, nickel-plated metal with 40 cm twist chain) for binding my boobs, 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, shorts, tied blouse, a twintail hairdo, and heavy makeup.
“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 ankle irons binding my boobs tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the used and soiled panties humiliatingly pushed into my mouth, the latex hose splitting my cleft uncomfortably tight but arousing, and the clover clamps torturing my nipples. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed in just coat and boots, hiding my adornments, by crowded bus. On my way home, the lustful and soon slick rubbing through my crevice by the latex hose, the brutally and unyieldingly hard and tight ankle irons 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 clover clamps pinching my nipples painfully 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. The feeling of being so vulnerable and exposed, with just my coat barely hiding my nudity and humiliating adornments, was a real thrill, adding to my arousal.
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 wide black leather collar, 5 wooden clothespins with 100 g weights on each outer labia, an inflatable urethra catheter with 500 ml bladder fill, 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 3.0 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 hogtied on belly on a spiked hard plastic turf floor mat, with a shoulder harness, a tie around my waist secured to a metal eye in the middle of the mat forcing me in place, my ankles and legs tied tight and bent with ankles tied towards my waist, 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 my hands, but everything else was still in place, “He” ordered me to masturbate to 2 orgasms, and when I had freed and relieved myself entirely, “He” ordered me to masturbate to 1 orgasm more. 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.