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Favorite Selfbondage Stories. Seem real.
Originally on Warhammer's site, now no longer in existence. Then on Gromit's Selfbondage Plaza. This lady
seems real to me. If you haven't seen these story, they are an open challenge for anyone into bondage:
oh, and super batteries are supposedly coming soon, which will revolutionize some of these ideas.
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From: "Tina"
To:
Subject: Self Bondage
Date: Sun, 3 May 1998 12:00:54 -0500 Hi! My name is Tina, and I am into self-bondage and erotic torment. I love wearing restrictive clothing; my co-workers might never believe what I usually wear under my business clothing. After reading some articles on the net, I decided to put a plan into action I have been considering for some time. I wanted to be hopelessly bound and relentlessly tormented. The preparations were fairly extensive - but that’s part of the fun. I have several keyed-alike padlocks and some odd locks. First I opened one of the odd locks. Then I tied the key to a string and placed the key at the bottom of a gallon milk jug, filled it with water, and placed it in the freezer. Next I epoxied a steel ring to one of my vibrators and epoxied the on/off switch in the high position. Now I was through for the day. I checked the epoxy the next morning and found that the ring and switch were quite secure and could not be altered. The key was also solidly frozen in a gallon sized block of ice. I began my final preparations about nine o’clock last night. I took an eight foot length of chain and secured it to a steel ring set that was cemented in the floor of my basement with a padlock. I cleaned out the area around the ring and placed an old mattress on the floor. I got an old lamp and plugged it into a twenty-four hour timer. The light and timer would both be out of reach once I was secured. Then I turned off the overhead lights. I went upstairs to my bedroom and dug my bondage belt out of the closet. This belt has a locking buckle in front and ‘O’ rings at each side and the middle of the back. I have a fairly narrow waist and ample hips, so when the belt is tight there is no way I can remove it by working down over my hips. I secured a short length of chain from the back ring with a padlock. I pulled the chain between my butt cheeks through my crotch, snugging it tight to my sex, and secured it to the locking buckle with another padlock. Now the only ways out of the belt were to cut it off or use the key. From the excess length of chain in front I secured my handcuffs (I usually like to cuff my hands behind me, but tonight I might need to eat or drink so I would need the use of my hands.) With my hands cuffed, I would be able to reach my mouth and sex, but could not reach over my head. I left the keys to the padlocks and cuffs on the nightstand by my bed. I grabbed a set of extra-long life batteries, vibrator, the odd lock, one of the keyed-alike locks, a jug of water and some snacks, and the frozen milk jug and headed down to the basement. I dropped most of the stuff on the mattress. I cut the very top out of the milk jug and hung it upside down from the ceiling over a floor drain about five feet from the ring set. I attached the key string to a string hung from the ceiling so that when the ice melted and the key fell, it would hang about crotch level - within easy reach. When I cuffed my hands, however, I would be unable to reach the jug to speed up the melting process. Next I set the timer on the lamp for 11:00 P.M. (it was about 10:00 at the time). Then I walked over to the mattress and locked the chain from the ring set to the ring above my left hip. Now I was stuck. The only release key frozen in a block of ice and no tools within reach. Even if I didn’t carry out the rest of my plan, I would have to wait until the ice melted to get free. I put the batteries in the vibrator and assembled it. As soon as I started screwing it together it started buzzing loudly. Before I could think about it too much, I worked it into my already aroused sex and snapped the lock on the ring to my crotch chain. Finally I cuffed my hands in front. Now I was completely stuck. I was chained to a ring in the floor and had a vibrator in my pussy I couldn’t remove or turn off. The vibrator I had chosen was about seven inches long and over one inch in diameter at the base. It had pea-sized bumps along its length. Quite by accident, the way I had glued the ring on and inserted it, one of the bumps was positioned right against my clitoris. I started to sweat and had a small panic attack. I began testing the belt and chain in an effort to remove the vibrator or get the belt off, but I had done myself too well. The only way to turn the vibrator off was to take it apart. To take it apart, I had to get it out. To get it out, I had to wait for the ice to melt, get the key from my nightstand upstairs, and unlock the chain. I had sentenced myself to several hours of sexual stimulation with no hope of relief. I enjoyed the feelings of resignation and despair that I always get from self-bondage. I knew I was in serious trouble when I started climaxing after only a few minutes into my self-imposed ordeal and I panicked again. I struggled with the crotch chain in a vain attempted to pull the vibrator out a little or adjust its position. It was in as deep as I had ever pushed it and could only stand it in that position for a few minutes. Now it was in deep and in to stay for several hours. I was into my fourth orgasm when the light snapped off leaving me completely in the dark struggling to find a position for my legs and hips that would ease the pressure on my spasming love tunnel. Time began to crawl now that I had no way to mark its passing except in my count of orgasms, and no way to be sure if they occurred every five minutes or every half hour. I slipped into a kind of sexual fugue marked by orgasms of increasing intensity between periods of bitter-sweet stimulation. Right after each climax, when my little clitty was swelled and super-sensitive, that vibrating bump was stimulating it toward the next peak. I soon lost count of the orgasms and had no idea of the time. After some time (minutes? hours?), I began to have mini-climaxes. I would rise to a peak and slowly slide back down, but not as far as at first. These came closer and closer together with increasing intensity until I had a SUPER ORGASM that left me sobbing from its magnitude. I remember believing that the vibrator had become possessed by some intelligence that knew when I couldn’t stand these and deliberately caused them because they happened at random intervals. The pain and pleasure centers in the brain are closely related and at some point each orgasm, instead of giving extreme pleasure, began to cause me intense misery. I tried using sheer willpower to reduce what was happening in my crotch with zero success. (An old professor of psychology told me one time, "the mind rebels, but the body compels!", She was right!) I tried to drift off to sleep, but each time I was just about relaxed enough to drop off, that monster shook, rattled, and rolled in my pussy pushing me over the edge causing me unimaginable misery. I ate nothing and only sipped a little water. I remember pleading with it to break down or the batteries to run down. Each time I felt a super orgasm building I would curl up in fetal position and rock mumbling a mantra of, "Please I can’t take another one! Oh please not another one!" Of course I was FORCED to endure it. I began to worry that I would die from pleasure. Someone would find me hours or days later. Finally I passed out from sensory overload or went to sleep from physical exhaustion - I’m not sure which. When I came to, dawn’s light was streaming in the window of the basement. I looked over and saw that the key was hanging within reach. I half crawled, half stumbled over to it and unlocked the chain. I stumbled up the stairs my legs weak from the hours of leasure/pain I had endured. I nearly crawled into my bedroom and snatched the key from my nightstand. Unlocking the belt, I was finally free of my tormentor. I held it and could barely feel its feeble stir from the near-dead batteries. I looked in the mirror and almost didn’t recognize my self. There were dark circles under my eyes and my face was drawn and haggard; but I was smiling! Like a person that has been on a ship for sometime then gets on dry land and feels it ‘moving’, I could still feel my pussy singing. It took several hour for that feeling to lessen and I can still feel it to some extent. After a hot shower and a nap, I took stock of my condition. My sex was a little sore and I had some bruises from struggling but that was all. Then I sat down and typed this up for your enjoyment. After last night, however, I don’t believe I will feel like masturbating for awhile. I’m wondering how it would be to do this again in a couple of weeks with two vibrators (one in each orifice). I’m also wondering if I can find some batteries that will last longer than 7 hours for them. If I can find some, I’ll use a two gallon jug next time. If you have any suggestions, or if you have any ideas for other self-inflicted, erotic torments, e-mail me at tinatiedup@hotmail.com. Lots of Love!
Tina
More from the -lovely- and talented Tina. :] From: "Tina"
To:
Subject: Self Bondage from Tina Here is an adventure first tried by my friend and co-worker, Betty, but once she told me about it I H-A-D to try it. Also will share some of my adventures with Betty later. Please enjoy! This morning I took my plant down and set a stable kitchen chair facing the ring in the ceiling about 8 feet away. I put my pinchers on my tender nipples. They were connected with a short piece of string with a loop tied in the middle. Next I went into the bedroom and made myself up with old fashioned eyeliner and mascara. I connected a four-pound weight to a long thin rubber band. Then I tied the band to a string. I tied the key to my cuffs to another long string. Then I put on my black panty girdle. I applied a liberal coating of deep heating ointment to a two-foot section of the string (about in the middle) attached to the key and a coat of ointment to the key itself. I then secured the weight to the ceiling ring with a slip knot. I fed the string attached to the weight through the ring and took both strings back to the chair. The string to the key I attached to the center link of my handcuffs. I placed a ball gag in my mouth and secured it tightly. I pulled my girdle down and fed the handcuffs and string between my legs snugging the string in my sex slit and the crack of my bum and pulled the girdle back up. The string fed down the inside front of my girdle and snaked up the inside back. Then I attached the handcuffs to the center rung of the chair. I sat in the chair and secured my ankles to the braces on either side of the chair with an old pair of nylons. I attached the string attached to the weight to the loop in the pincher string. Then, before I could think about it too much, I reached around the back of the chair and snapped the cuffs around my wrists. Though my den was chilly, I began to sweat. I was stuck. The only way out of this situation was to pull the key to my hands! When I did that I didn't know what would happen to the weight. Would it snap the pinchers off my nipples (Ouch!)? Would the band break (Sigh!)? Or, would the weight bounce up and down tugging my tender nipples? I looked in the mirror and saw a hopeless blonde. Bound in a chair with no chance of escape without suffering. I began to pull the string attached to the key and found I could only pull it a couple of inches at a time. After a couple of tugs the slip knot released allowing the weight to fall. Almost in slow motion, I watched it fall and the band began to become taut. The tension on my nipples increasing as it dropped lower and lower. It fell to within a few inches of the floor when, to my horror, it stopped and began to rise almost to the ceiling. I arched my back in a desperate, but vain, attempt to lower the relentless pull on my nipples. I had to get free. I began to pull the string attached to the key across the tilled floor, down the front of my girdle and back up the back. I was squirming in an equally vain attempt to dislodge the string from my slit and crack. There was no way to do this. Finally the part of the string saturated with liniment reached the top of my girdle. The weight continued its relentless path. Taking a deep breath (and swallowing hard), I pulled the string. The liniment set first my sex, then my backside on fire! Each tug of the weight and each tug of the key string increased my agony! I was weeping. Looking in the mirror again I saw a blonde with black tears freely flowing down my cheeks where my mascara and eyeliner had run. Finally I managed to get the key to the top of my girdle. I continued to pull and watched with horrid fascination as the key nestled against my belly button then slid down the front of my girdle. The liniment coated key added fresh fuel to the furnace in my sex and backside. My breathing was coming in ragged gasps. The key finally popped out into my waiting hands. I released my left hand. That hand flew around and released my left nipple. I went to massage it and realized, too late my error. The right nipple bore the entire brunt of the freshly swinging weight. I nearly fainted! I released my right nipple. Both nipples were bright spots of pain and my nether regions were a furnace of fire! I released my right hand then untied my ankles. I staggered to the bathroom and used a cold rag to was my nether regions and face. I then cleaned everything up. Finally I went to the bedroom for some well-earned orgasms. Hugs,
Tina ...and still more from the extraordinary TinaTiedUp From: "Tina"
and a personal "Hello" from SgtKat to Betty. :] I've been into bondage since I was about 12 years old when I used to look at the covers of the detective magazines at the local drug store. I'm always looking for new methods of stimulating and pushing myself -- most of my ideas do come out of my twisted little mind. Most of the things that other women hate, I delight in, underwire bras, tight girdles, tight skirts, high heels... Here's an idea for your wife - take two old fashioned hair pins and tie them together with a string of rubber bands (8 to 10 inches long). These go on her nipples. To the center of the rubber bands tie a short piece of string. tie a golf ball sized wiffle ball to the other end. The ball goes in her sex. If she wears loose clothing, she can go in public with no one the wiser. The stimulation can be fantastic! I promised in my second note to tell you about some of my adventures with Betty, my co-worker. Several months ago I inadvertently left one of my disks at work containing some of my files. One of those files was the one that became my first post. Betty found it and must have been curious. The next day she cornered me and told me that was pretty kinky stuff. Then she admitted she liked bondage too. She asked, "What's it like to be forced to endure orgasms with no way to stop?" I replied, "It's something you just have to experience." She looked at me sidelong and said, "Tina, I'm not gay or anything, but okay, when do you want to do me?" I was shocked to hear my friend say this, but agreed to let her come over and try it. The next long weekend was in February (MLK's Birthday). She showed up about seven, had a couple of drinks to loosen up, then I outfitted her as I had been with the exception that she preferred to have her hands cuffed behind her. I took her to the basement, locked her to the ring as I had been, and put batteries in the vibrator. After I lubed it (unnecessary), I eased it into her and secured it to the chain. She told me she wasn't sure she could stand it. And I said, "You'll have to, the keys are upstairs and I'm not coming back down until in the morning." Then i flipped the light off and went to bed. I could hear her moaning and thrashing around downstairs, but she never called out for release. The next morning when I released my friend she looked terrible! She told me that it almost drove her crazy. I just smiled and said, "I know." Then I got her cleaned up (she still wasn't functioning properly) and put her to bed in the spare bedroom. She slept about 10 hours! Now we get together about once a month. The last time was this past weekend. We came up with a game we call "Snake Bite". We played three games of gin rummy - the loser is 'snake bite'. Well, Betty came from behind to win, and I was 'snake bite'! Off goes blouse and bra and on goes the bondage belt. Betty secured my hands behind me with cuffs and attached the cuffs to the ring in back so I couldn't reach around me.
She lubed my nipples up with a little lotion and applied two suction cups from my snake bite kit. then she led me to the den where we had hung a chain from the ceiling ring where I usually hang a plant. She secured the chain to the ring in the back of my belt, knelt and spread my feet with a short spreader bar. She smiled wickedly and said, "These will keep you from getting off until we decide the winner. You know the rules -- you have one hour to get the both cups off your nipples by any method available (Ha!). If you get them off, I will be at your mercy for 24 hours (We had already agreed to 24 hours of sexual frustration). If either, or both, are still on, you will be the one to suffer. To make a long story short, no matter how hard I shook, shimmied, or bounced, I couldn't get the damned things off. I was too far from the wall to rub them off, I couldn't get my knees up to rub them off, and I couldn't catch them in my teeth to pull them off. I was stuck for a long hour! When Betty came back and saw them still firmly attached, she smiled like the cat-that-ate-the-canary. She pulled my panties from under my skirt, released me from the chain and spreader bar, and led me back to my bed. She uncuffed me and then tied me spread-eagled to the bed posts. Then she dug into my toy box and came out with my 6 inch butt plug. She lubed this up and inserted it in my sex and said, "This will give you something to think about tonight while I'm in the next room. If you work your muscles hard enough, you might even be able to get off. Have fun!" I asked, "What about these cups?" She just smiled and said, "They look so cute. I think they're really attached to you too." So there I was. Tied to the bed, my sex stuffed with a plug i couldn't expel, with suction cups sucking greedily at my very tender nipples. Working my vaginal muscles only served to make me hornier than I already was, but nowhere near enough to climax. I spent a long frustrating night. The next morning Betty released me and removed the cups from my now V-E-R-Y sore nipples. She insisted i keep the plug in though. that afternoon (Saturday) we went down to the local pub for a couple of beers, that plug driving me almost crazy by now. Betty insisted that I wait until sundown for relief. when I finally got to masturbate, it was the sweetest climax I've had in a while. Next month I've vowed to win - hook or crook. Tina Gets an Enema
From TinaTiedUp Been going through my archive of activities and found this one - hope
you enjoy it. (I did this one back in February.) Sorry it has been so long since my last post, but this morning's activity took a lot of preparation and testing to get it just right. I spent the last two days preparing my nipples by wearing heavy duty clamps while at home and pinching them when I could while out. This morning I got up, ran a few errands, then came home and began to prepare for today's ordeal. I stripped to the buff , put my tightest pinchers on my nipples, and fastened my bondage belt tightly around my waist. The belt has four D-rings - one front and back, and one on each side. From center front to center back I attached a short chain with padlocks so that it ran tightly through my sex and the crack of my bum like an old-fashioned saddle strap. I left the lock in the back open for later. I secured my handcuffs to the center link in the back with the small lock. Next I took down the potted plant in my den and attached a chain to the ring that ran down to about waist level. Next to that ring, is another ring where I secured a small pulley. Next I took a three-quart enema bag and filled it with cold water. To this I added three tablespoons of salt and two tablespoons of baking soda. Then I shook the bag to mix well. Clipping the bag closed, I then attached it to one end of a piece of rope. I threaded that through the pulley and attached the other end to a carefully measured weight and the key to the handcuffs and the padlock at my back. The weight and keys were near the ceiling and the bag hung just above waist level. Next , I took a queen sized butt plug that I had drilled a hole through and secured a fountain syringe tip through the hole. I greased the plug and began to work it into my backside. Just when I thought I would have to give up, the plug slipped in and nestled against my anus. I secured it to my saddle strap with a small lock. I crimped the enema bag line and secured it with a clothes pin. The pin was attached to a string that was tied off to the chain hanging from the ceiling. I secured my gag in my mouth, put the enema hose on the end of the syringe, opened the clamp (it was still held shut with the clothes pin), and backed up to the chain. I secured my belt to the chain with the lock. Then I taped the enema hose to my thigh with a piece of medical tape so that it would be out of reach when my hands were cuffed. Then I secured my high heeled shoes to a short board with an old pair of nylons (to keep me from turning). Finally, I reached around me and snapped the cuffs around my wrists before I could think about it too much. I tested my bonds and found that there was no way to manipulate myself out of my predicament. The only way to get loose was to pull the clothes pin off the enema hose, receive an enema, and let the weight pull the key to my cuffs and padlock down to within reach. Once I pulled the pin off, the bag would be out of reach - no way to stop or reduce the flow. Though the den was cool, I began to sweat. I looked in the mirror above the couch and saw a helpless, hopeless blonde, tightly bound and ready for an enema. I reached the string and snapped the pin off the hose with a jerk. Since the bag was not very far above my hip level, the water trickled into me very slowly. I flexed my knees and bowed my chest to my thigh tops in an effort to speed things up, but I had done my work too carefully. This was going to be a long, slow process. The baking soda began to work me almost immediately. My insides were cramping in an effort to expel the enema solution. This caused a back pressure against the flow causing the enema to go even slower! I looked around at the bag and saw that only a little over 1 quart had drained into me after 20 minutes and the bag was only a little higher than before. The weight and keys were still a long way from my eager fingers. Forty-five minutes later, the bag had risen much higher and the keys were only just out of reach. I tried to stretch and strain to reach them, but this put too much pressure on my distended belly. Any movement put my bowels in agony. I was so hot! Finally the bag emptied and the keys were at hand level. I released my hands and re-closed the clamp to the enema bag. Then I unlocked myself from the chain and freed my ankles. I waddled as quickly as my cramping belly would let me (with the bag in tow) to the bathroom. I quickly unlocked the plug, removed it and relieved my cramping bowels into the toilet. Then I cleaned everything up and went to the bedroom for some well earned orgasms. If anyone has some good ideas on self bondage/abuse, please let me know! Hugs,
Tina Tina's Latest Adventure... From: "Tina TiedUp"
To: SgtKat
(along with a P.S. from Betty) This latest adventure may seem a little bizarre, but Betty and I both enjoyed it immensely! Several readers have written and asked if we really do these things to ourselves. The answer is yes. Everything I've sent you is authentic. I may send you some fiction later on, but it will be labeled as fiction. Betty and I met on Thursday to check the work roster for the July 4 weekend. Looks like we both have to work. Go figure. Anyway we decided to play this weekend instead of putting it off. Betty told me she had something particularly interesting planned for me if she could beat me in our contest. Well, I had something very interesting planned for her as well! I asked her not to eat anything after lunch on Thursday. She looked a little puzzled but agreed. Friday, I only worked a half day (our hospital isn't thrilled to pay overtime, but doesn't want to hire enough staff to keep from paying it -- Go figure.) Got home about 1:00 pm and stretched out for a little nap. Got up about 3:30 pm (Betty was due over about 4:30) and showered and ate a light snack (don't like to eat too much before a session). Betty arrived a few minutes early. We chatted a few minutes over glasses of White Zinfandel before breaking out the cards for our rummy contest. We continued sipping our wine as we played. After I saw how the cards were falling, maybe Tina should have chucked the whole idea and gone to the casino (I had one of those days where any card I needed was the next that fell - doesn't happen too often). Betty had just poured her third glass of wine when she realized she was down two games to none and was in deep trouble, little beads of persiration poping out on her forehead. You should have seen the shock on her face when after only a few cards were played, I giggled like a school girl, fanned my cards on the table and announced "Gin!" (Betty can usually beat me about 2 out of 3 times at cards.) Betty said, "I was hoping not to find myself in this situation for a while, at least." (Then she blushed a little. A little tipsy from the wine and from not having eaten - I guess.) The Cheshire Cat had nothing on me! I was going to enjoy this! I got out the bondage belt, cuffs, and nipple cups while she got naked from the waist up. I put the belt on Betty, cuffed her wrist, and locked the belt to the chain in my den with a small padlock and separated her legs with the short spreader bar. Then I lubricated her (hard) nipples with a little lotion and applied the suction cups. Now it was H-E-R turn to be snake-bit! (Betty's a little better endowed than I so, I made her wait a few minutes before she could try to get the cups off.) Instead of leaving her alone (as she had done me), I decided to stay and watch the show (and give my friend a little ‘encouragement'). Betty shook, shimmied, and bounced as hard as she could. (I kept giving her small sips of wine in between). Finally after about 40 minutes she asked, "There's no way to get the damned thing off, is there?" I replied, "Of course there is!" (Yeah, right - but it's fun to try anyway!) Betty gave up before her full hour was exhausted. I was ecstatic! I unhooked her from the chain and led her back to my bedroom. Then I put surgical gloves over her hands and began to tape her fingers (including her thumbs) together with surgical tape. Betty was puzzled by this, but I wasn't about to tell her what was in store for her! I taped her hands up past her wrists. Now her hands were useless for anything but patting and swatting. Next, I dumped her skirt and panties. Then I stretched her out on the bed and tied her near- useless hands to the bedposts with a couple of old nylons. (Ever notice how useful old nylons can be?) I pulled Betty's hair into two ponytails above her ears. Betty's pert little breasts looked even smaller with her arms stretched and at shoulder level. (She was about to look even younger!) Then I went and got the clippers and razor. First I trimmed then shaved her pubic hair. She groaned the whole time and asked, "What if I have a date. What am I supposed to tell them?" I replied, "Tell them you're a nurse!" Now she looked like a young girl about to enter puberty. I coated her pubis with a little baby oil and a thin sheen of Vaseline.
(If she developed a rash, that should help it itch a little more.) Then I lubed up a butt plug and slid it into her sex. Finally, after all this prep, it was time for her big surprise! Betty was reassigned to pediatrics during our recent realignment at the hospital. I brought out two adult-sized, flannel diapers I had absconded from the hospital and a couple of overnight feminine pads. Yes! You guessed it. I diapered her using the pads to create a nice, uncomfortable bulk between her legs. I pinned the diaper with some novelty safety pins I had found. Then came one of the items that I had found that originally prompted this idea - a pair of pink rubber training pants with a bit of ruffle at the waist and leg openings and snaps down both hips. I worked these under Betty and snapped them on over her diaper. Betty had been bitching the whole time. She told me in no uncertain terms that she wasn't about to use a diaper. I told her that I was sure she wouldn't - not a young, proud, professional woman like her. Next came the last accessory -- a pink, adult-sized pacifier attached to a strap. (This one had a hole down the length of its middle for breathing.) Betty wouldn't open her mouth until I tickled her ribs. Then, as she laughed, I pushed it in and buckled it behind her head. Next I reattached her leg spreader. Betty was plugged, diapered, tied, and pacified (Giggle). I giggled and told her, "If you work that plug hard enough with your vaginal muscles - you might even be able to get off!" (Well I couldn't; but she might.) With a peck on the cheek, I left her to ponder her fate. I went off to the kitchen and prepared a snack and listened to the muffled music from my bedroom. After my snack, I warmed up a little baby formula for Betty. I added a dose of ‘Dulcolax' (laxative) and ‘Diruex' (diuretic) to it and poured it into an IV style bag and reattached the hose. I placed this on a tray under wrap and carried it back to the bedroom. As I entered (about 8:00 pm), I could see Betty's abdominals contracting and relaxing - trying to work that plug. I asked her as much. She blushed crimson down to her nipples as I asked, "Any luck?" I set her tray down as she slowly shook her head "No." Then I told her it was time to eat. I pulled the bag from the tray and hooked it on one of the bed posts. Then I threaded the tube into the hole in her pacifier and set the flow at about 0.75 ounces per minute. Then I told her the reason the formula was so bitter was that there was nasty medicine in it to help her little bowels and kidneys work. I told her that it would take about 45 minutes for the bag to empty, but she could speed it up by nursing. If she could empty the bag in 30 minutes or less, I would bring her a nice bottle of apple juice to wash the nasty taste of medicine away from ‘Baby Betty's' little mouth. I kissed her cheek again and told her, "Try not to think about what the formula and medicine is doing to your empty stomach." If looks could have kill, I would have left in a basket. I kept a careful eye on my friend as she fed. It was fun to watch as she nursed her ‘bottle'. She did manage to finish it before the 30 minutes were up. I took a baby bottle of cold apple juice into the bedroom, unhooked her pacifier and removed it (to clean up). I untied her left arm and eased onto the bed beside her. She was pleading with me not to make her do this. I told her, "Mommy Tina is just trying to do the best for her baby girl!" As I cradled her head, Betty sucked eagerly at the eight ounce bottle of juice I brought her (to get rid of the taste, apparently forgetting the amount of liquids she had consumed). I re-tied her left hand and went to clean her fooler. She figured out pretty quick that the only time I would answer her was when she called me ‘Mommy Tina'. I continued to check on my friend periodically (and carefully). About 10:00 pm she called to me, "Mommy Tina, please come here!" (Her voice took on a child-like quality I've seldom heard from an adult.) As I entered the bedroom, Betty's eyes were squeezed shut, she was completely tensed and she had tears in the corners of her eyes. She said, "Please Mommy Tina - please don't make me do this. I'll be a good girl. I'll do anything. Please don't...." Then the inevitable happened. Betty peed. As she peed, she climaxed (I believe) from a combination of despair, the plug, the pressure from her bladder, and the physical act of peeing. I still can't believe the intensity of her orgasm. Her climax came from a higher physical plane than we normally exist on! After that I even relented and untied her and let her finish her ‘business' in the bathroom. Then I changed her like you would any baby and put her to bed on her stomach with her hands cuffed behind her (gotta keep those paws out of trouble!) (I slept in the spare bedroom.) Saturday morning, I let her loose (she had peed again in the night) and we enjoyed the day as sisters. Betty has warned me that I won't be so lucky when next she wins! - Ouch! Hugs & Kisses,
Tina
Post Script from Betty: Dear Paul and Kimberly, I almost did not let Tina send this. I'm more than a little embarrassed. Tina has me read any posts concerning me before posting. I have the final say - she says. We love your site - Tina and I visit it almost everyday. I hope to get a computer of my own in a few months when my bills settle out a little better. I really just wanted to say Hello. Next time you hear from us, I hope the situations are a little different. There goes that itch again - Arrgh! Tina is sitting over here still giggling - Witch! Hugs,
Betty Chemical Spanking From: Tina
To: sgtkatana
Subject: Interesting Technique
Dear Sgt. Katana: I’d like to share an interesting technique with you and your readers. I call it ‘Chemical Spanking’. It is a safe but but satisfyingly uncomfortable predicament for the recipient. All you need is an old fashioned "Back Plaster" (made by Johnson and Johnson - available at almost any drug store and most Krogers for $2.00/$3.00) and an old panty girdle. These plasters are about 10.5 inches long and 5.5 inches wide, self-adhesive, backed with felt. First cut the patch into two pieces of 5.25 inches by 5.5 inches. Next remove the covering and plaster them to your bare behind (note: they will stick very well - be sure to follow the instructions for removal later) being sure to have them extend down to the soft, tender under cheek. Then don the girdle. I like to wear a tight pair of jeans to work. About lunch time I’ll go to the womens’ room and apply the plaster, pull my jeans back up, and secure the waist with a short chain and padlock through the belt loops (the key is at home) and pull my shirt down to cover the chain and lock. Then I have to wait four to five hours to get the plaster off. Also, I cannot go to the bathroom which leads to some interesting sensations! The plaster will have the same general effect as BenGay with a couple of exceptions. The plaster has a rubberized material that holds the heat in next to the skin (also aided by the girdle). Also, the material in the plaster is somewhat time-released. While the BenGay develops a sensation quickly then dissipates over a short time, the longer the plaster stays in place the more of the active ingredient comes into play. The effect is that the behind begins to get very warm after a few minutes with the heat increasing over time. I can tell you from personal experience that you will be squirming after only an hour or two, and would probably agree to anything after four. If you leave the plaster on overnight, enough of the ingredient will be absorbed into the skin to keep the area burning for several hours (up to a couple of days). Try this out and get back to me. Have fun! Hugs,
Tina
From: Tina tinatiedup@hotmail.com
Subject: Self Bondage & Rubber Bands!
-***- Hi Gromet!
Here's something to use if you like.
Sorry it's been so long since my last post. I really hadn't realized just how long it's been!
Several of my readers have noticed that I try and build some type of punishment into my self-bondage release schemes. Some are really simple and some become quite complicated. Usually the simple ones work the best. One of my e-friends suggested something so effective I'm ashamed that I didn't come up with it myself. (Thanks Phil!)
Several days ago, acting upon suggestion, I stopped at the local office supply store and picked up several bags of rubber bands in varying lengths and widths and a ball of extra-strong nylon packing twine. Arriving home I started preparing for my next ordeal. (Preparation and anticipation is half the fun!)
First I dug out a box of dual-end snap-clips that I had purchased at a flea market. They've really come in 'handy' in my bondage play. (I wish I knew what they were called. I call them dog-clips because they remind me of the clips you find on dog leashes.) Next I stripped and put on my bondage belt. This belt is about 3 inches wide and has D-rings attached at strategic locations. Then I tied some twine to two of the dog-clips and snapped them to the buckle and the D-ring in back. I adjusted the length of twine so that it was R-E-A-L-L-Y snug between the cheeks of my bum and along the length of my slit.
Next I marked the twine in front where it entered my labia and in the rear just above my bumhole. (Yes, I did sport a red dot fore and aft for the next several days.) Then I fixed up four more twine and clip sets just like the first.
After that I removed my belt, dressed, and sat down with the rubber bands, dog-clips, and dog-clip and string sets. I took each string set (carefully noting which end was which) and started clipping the bands and tying them between the dots on the string. The other end of each band was tied to a spare dog-clip. I picked bands at random from each bag until each string assembly had several bands tied to it in random order and location.
When I finished I had five devices that I call 'Snapper-Zappers'. I carefully put them away for 'future use. Anticipation is part of the fun.
Saturday, June 24, quickly became miserably hot and humid as forecasted. Going out didn't appeal, I decided not to read or study, and nothing was on the TV. I puttered around the house in the morning and considered the afternoon. You guessed it - Time for a bondage session!
I took my box of Zappers to the spare bedroom and carefully laid them out. Then, closing my eyes, I rearranged them in a random order so (as best I could) I wouldn't know which I had selected later.
Across the hall in my bedroom, I stripped and started laying out the things I'd need - bondage belt, ankle cuffs, hand cuffs, dog-clips, keyed-alike padlocks, a couple of short lengths of chain, a home-made knee spreader (made from a dowel rod, screw eyes, and a couple of large dog collars), and my latest purchase -- a fairly severe leather posture collar that locks in back with D-ring in front.
First I bucked the ankle cuffs on. Next came the belt that I had dog clipped the two short chains to in back. Then I put the knee spreader above my knees and buckled it securely into place. Locking my hand cuffs to the D-ring of the collar, I finally buckled it around my neck. It held my head F-I-R-M-L-Y erect and kept my eyes forward and elevated.
Grabbing my key ring with the padlock key and hand cuff key, I shuffled across the hall (the ends of the loose chains banging against my thighs) into the spare bedroom and sat on the edge of the bed. Choosing one of the Zappers by feel, I clipped it to the D-ring in back, stood, and groping between my legs found the other end. I gave it a little shake to untangle the bands and, again by feel, clipped it to the buckle on my belt.
I tested everything by feel then shuffled to the den where I'd have room to play. The Zapper gently bounced between my thighs as the chains rattled and banged in back.
I had already attached a short length of chain to a 75 pound dumbbell. I tossed the keys a dozen or so feet across the room and knelt in front of the dumbbell. By feel I found the chain attached to the dumbbell and clipped the dog-clip between my legs to it. Next I attached the chains attached to my belt to my ankle cuffs.
I was just about ready. Using my arms, I eased myself to the floor pulling my ankles into the air. I was now resting on my breasts, belly, and upper thighs. I reached up and snapped first one cuff -- then the other -- around my wrists. Now I was helpless.
I took a moment to savor the sensations of my bound body and (mentally) the image of what someone peeking through my den windows might see.
Here was a hopeless blonde, uncomfortably bound, her legs flexed, ankles drawn inexorably toward the small of her back. Her head held high and forward to stare at the means to freedom, but freedom at a price. The cruel tromentrix between her thighs would see to that. Her legs held wide apart by the vicious spreader, preventing even the hope she might shield her privates from some of the punishment to come.
I started my slow journey toward the key using my elbows to inch along dreading what was to come. I also discovered that, despite the softness of the carpet in my den, I would get a little carpet burn on my thighs and breasts - an unanticipated punishment. After about a foot I felt the bands start to pull taut. I knew the band(s) were stretching, but because of the randomness of my selections, I had no idea when or where the first would strike.
I knew that the band would stretch to its limit then break - snapping me somewhere painfully, but I had to continue. No one was coming by to free me. Just then I heard the band snap and a millisecond later it struck my sex sending a white-hot flash of pain from my crotch through the rest of my body causing me to gasp for breath. I had to pause a minute to gain my composure. This was just the first of 'who knows how many' zaps.
After resting a minute I continued my painful exodus. The next zap landed squarely on my anus - better than before, but still V-E-R-Y uncomfortable. Another few inches and I had accumulated seven or eight zaps that had me sobbing and gasping. Each one accumulated until my sex felt like a bar of agonizing heat.
I thought nothing could be worse - I was wrong! I felt another band break and waited the fractional second in dread until it landed squarely on my little clitty. I don't think I screamed - I KNOW I SCREAMED!
Another six inches and the last band broke ending the acute punishment. This only let me focus on the after affects to my privates and the increasing carpet burn to my nipples, elbows, and thighs.
I finally reached the keys and freed myself. I'm not sure how long I lay there - exhausted and crying. After a time I staggered to the bedroom and took stock of myself in my mirror. My breasts and elbows were lightly carpet burned, but not that bad. Using a hand mirror I checked out my crotch. I was sure it would look like raw meat, but in fact, had only a few welts where the bands had hit wide of the mark. My sex was pretty sore, but a long hot soak, a little baby oil, and my favorite vib indicated that everything was still in working order.
So, how was your Saturday...
Hugs,
Tina
tinatiedup@hotmail.com
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