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ORIGINAL: boyskoutspark

From time to time, I write down the bondage predicaments that I imagine myself in. A recently authored scenario (below) was written with a potential play partner in mind.

I imagine that the very process of being bound would be slow and deliberate. My arms would likely be first, to give me my first taste of helplessness as the ropes are cinched around my wrists and elbows. I imagine that my shoulders would factor into the arm bondage as well, to brace my bound upper arms and to increase the tension overall, reminding me of my plight as I struggle futilely. My legs would be next: ankles, knees, upper thighs; and then -- the moment that makes me shudder -- my bound ankles and wrists are brought together in a tight, inescapable hogtie. Not loosely, with a few inches of slack rope, but flush against each other, held tightly with several windings and knots.

To my pleasure/dismay, it isn't yet finished. More rope is brought out. I can't help but let out a slight moan as I am bound impossibly further -- a thick winding of rope around my bent legs to bolster them into place, around my midsection and arms to pin them together, until I can barely breathe and my body is a single, tightly bound mass bowed into a backward arch.

And the next-to-last thing: a harness gag. A large ball with thick straps is brought to my mouth and, having no choice, exhausted from my struggles, I open my mouth. The ball is pushed in, past my tongue, stretching my jaw wide. Just hearing the buckles chime quietly as the straps are fastened makes my heart race. And when the straps are pulled tightly into place, the ball forced deeper into my mouth, I calm myself by breathing in deep through my nose, moaning protests that I don't mean, begging for release with inaudible words that I know that I cannot be heard, knowing that I have truly been liberated from choice -- at least for the next couple of hours.

The final element is so satisfyingly complete in its firmness and quiet cruelty that I am nearly brought to tears. One last short length of rope is brought out and dangled in front of my eyes before it is tied to something beyond my field of vision. A tug lets me know that it has been fastened to the D-ring at the top of the harness gag. The rope is then looped through what I recognize as the rope that binds my upper arms --- and pulled slowly.

I can imagine her smile as she relishes the sight of my head being pulled back, the tiny "mmph" sound I make in protest as she tests the tension of the rope, making sure that it is something I can handle for a few hours -- and then tightening it ever so slightly beyond that point.

The bondage now complete, my body arched tightly, my head tilted back -- she takes a few minutes to toy with me. Brings her face close to mine. Strokes my chin. Kisses my cheek, grazes my lips, touches the ball in my mouth with her finger.

She tells me that she thinks I'll be fine for an hour or so, that she'll check on me from time to time, as she smiles and closes the door behind her. Of course, she doesn't really leave, but lingers behind the closed door for just a few minutes, listening to my struggles.