After some wet dreams, I was so hot and needy that with a real partner, I would have been ready to beg for some real brutal treatment after being tied halpless, especially of my wet pussy, like a hard fisting or oversized dildo fuck, and my naughty breasts, like tying them up painfully tight before giving them a good beating, but “Master Dice” does not care about wishes or requests, which is part of his charm. “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 pussy, a moderate anal plug (152×51 mm red plastic) for impaling my anal, a polypropylene rope (4 m, 8 mm blue, scratchy) for binding through my crotch, ankle irons (1 pair, nickel-plated metal with 40 cm twist chain) for tying my breasts, and mouse traps (1 pair, wooden, nice) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with red cotton panties, that might be used as a provisional gag later, red as clothing color, high-heel platform sandals, shorts, tube top, a twintail hairdo, and heavy makeup, 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 ordered me to cum twice, leaving me feeling thoroughly fucked and drained. 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 tying my breasts tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the polypropylene rope splitting my cleft, the mousetraps torturing my nipples, the used and soiled panties humiliatingly shoved into my mouth, the huge dildo pushed into my craving vagina, and the moderate anal plug pushed into my tight ass. Then “He” had me go home like that, dressed but without my panties, hiding my adornments, by crowded bus. On my way home, the brutal stimulation from the huge dildo as it moved in my vagina with every step, the full feeling from the moderate anal plug in my ass, the uncomfortable pinch on the membrane between my two lower fillings, the painful chafing and rubbing through my crotch by the polypropylene rope, 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 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 rather intense 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 harness panel gag with penis plug. For the final tie, “He” had me use flag ropes (5 mm polyester, with a big padlock to cinch the wrist tie) after arranging a 2.0 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 barefoot, standing with a shoulder harness and sharp thumbtacks taped to my breasts (over my nipples and areolas), my buttocks (sit area), the front of my knees, the sides of my hips, the sides of my upper arms, the soles of my feet (the foot arch), each length of duct tape with 7 thumbtacks in a loose flower shape, my feet tied together with a tie up to the shoulder harness, forcing me to crouch, 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. 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.