After a night of wet dreams, I was tingling and needy 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 spiky ball (60 mm soft orange plastic spiky dental dog ball) for stuffing my pussy, a large anal dilator (178×60 mm black TPE) for impaling my ass, a flag rope (4 m, 5 mm white polyester) for splitting my crotch, sisal rope (2 x 3.6 m, 8 mm brown sisal hemp) for binding my breasts, and alligator clamps (1 pair, jagged metal, cruel) for my nipples. “He” then styled me for work with black polyester panties, that might literally fill in as a provisional gag later, yellow as clothing color, high-heel peep-toes, tube top, and a let down hairdo, 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 used and soiled panties humiliatingly shoved into my mouth, the flag rope bisecting my crotch uncomfortably tight but arousing, the alligator clamps tormenting my nipples, the sisal ropes binding my tits tight around their bases, making them swell, bulge and shift color towards purple, the large anal dilator shoved into my tight ass, and the spiky ball pushed into my craving pussy. 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 wicked stimulation from the spiky ball as it shifted in my vagina with every step, the totally filled feeling from the large anal dilator in my anal, the uncomfortable pinch on the membrane between my two lower stuffings, the hot rubbing through my cleft by the flag rope, the rough but exciting sisal 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 alligator clamps chewing my nipples agonizingly 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 very intense and uncomfortable. The agonizing torture of my nipples was so intense it brought tears to my eyes, not really crying though.
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 bullet vibrator taped to my clit on low intensity. For the final tie, “He” had me use metal (police-cuffs and chains with padlocks) after arranging a 1.0 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 on a spiked hard plastic turf floor mat, with a shoulder harness, my breasts cuffed tight with leg irons, my ankles spread wide and bound to metal eyes at the short ends of the mat, my breasts stretched hard up to a chain from a ceiling hook, forcing me on the balls of my feet, 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 2 orgasms. 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.