Having It All (32 page)

“Have you tried anything new this week?” Jim asked one evening over a take-out meal that he brought home from a Korean restaurant that was on the way from the office.

“Oh, yes, indeed,” Sandy said, grinning from ear to ear and allowing a tiny morsel of Bul-go-gee Fire Beef to slip out of the corner of her mouth. “It's a lot of fun, but, geez, it takes so much planning!”

“How about that,” Jim said, a bit sarcastically, thinking of the months of planning he had already put in on the house's many modifications. “Give me an example of what you have worked out.”

“Well, a few days ago, Wednesday, when you went off unannounced to the dental conference in Dallas, I was my usual horny self by about nine in the morning, so I gathered up as many toys as I could find and decided that I would like to try the “Girl in the Dungeon” routine.”

“Hummm, that's an old score, but not one we've tried yet. Good for you.”

“Yeh. Well, it was a great idea, but I kept realizing that I had forgotten something and, as I went along, had to get out of the stuff and go back upstairs to get the required items. This became really annoying and I now understand why you sometimes get pissed when you forget a key ingredient in your Tease and Torment Sandy routines.”

“Right.”

“So I put on one of the rubber outfits to warm up. You know the rubber bikini panties with their dual, interchangeable intruders nestled in the crotch and the rubber bra with the open end cups.”

“Oh, right. Nice choice. Wish I had been there.”

“Yes, you might have been useful. But anyway, I got down in the basement and realized that I didn't have the rubber stockings and that the panties of course, don't have garters, so I had to go back up to the closet and dig that stuff out, polish it up and put it on. I did this up there because I got to check myself out in the mirror and that, as you can well imagine, was another mistake.”

“Why?” asked Jim, now fully interested. Sitting back in his chair and sipping his beer.

“Well, I got one look at myself and just sort of, well, creamed in my rubber panties. I swear, it was instant orgasm, if you know what a mean.”

“I do. Been there, seen that.”

“Okay, Mister Smart Guy. I know. I can't help it. I get too hot too fast and now days with us having zero secrets between us; I come off at the drop of a handcuff key. It's weird, but the shrink says it's just healthy sex drive. By the way, he also thinks I should go back to work or find another job and that hanging, literally, around the house is not so good for me.”

“What does he know? You can do what you want,” Jim said easily. “If you feel like you need a job, I support that. If you want to stay at home and play or work here, that's your call.”

“I knew you'd say that. Thanks, hon.”

“So, get back to your story. I'm enjoying this,” Jim said, sliding his chair further back from the table and pointing to the raised front of his trousers.

“I can see that. Damn, you're as horny as I am,” Sandy said, sounding a bit disgusted. “At least you could wait until the juicy part.”

“This is the juicy part,” Jim countered, laughing.

“Oh no, there's lots more. I finally get away from looking at the slut in the mirror and decide that I'm showing a bit too much in the love handle areas so I pull on a latex panty girdle over the panties and this has the necessary garters to holdup the rubber stockings, which are, by the way either too small for me or just too damned tight. They were a bitch to get on.”

“Try it with hairy legs,” Jim laughed.

“Okay. Your point is well taken. So, I go back to the cellar and put on the leg irons and waist chain, hook in my legs and waist and then realize that I have no shoes on. Shit. Stupid. I can't do the girl in the basement thing without high heels, so it was back upstairs to find a decent pair of heels that go with the latex outfit.”

“A real fashion challenge for sure, “Jim said, trying to control his laughter while Sandy looked even more pissed.

“This is serious,” she shouted with false anger. “I was having a bad day. If you had just plunked me in the tub with a water hose and gag for the day, none of this aggravation would have taken place.”

“Right. My error,” Jim said, trying to look contrite.

“So, anyway, time is flying and I have wasted two and a half hours shuttling up and down stairs for stuff. If I had decided to do this in the guest room or the maid's room, it would have been a hell of a lot easier. But the double duty dongs were doing their job with all this sweaty stair climbing and stuff and pretty soon it was time to change the oil, so to speak. So off came the girdle and panties and in go mister and missus big and bigger dong.”

“Mister and Missus what?” Jim laughed, trying hard to keep a straight face.

“You heard me. The initial fake prick set was now not doing more than sliding in and out, so I needed, ah, more substance.”

“Right. Next time I'll remember that, honey. Please continue,” Jim said, by now beyond suppressing a laugh and he chuckled to himself while Sandy continued her “pissed off” act.

“So I put on a nice pair of black shoes with a two inch platform and five inch, maybe six inch heels and the wide straps that go around the ankle. The straps get in the way of the ankle cuffs and I have to loosen the cuffs and then adjust them so that the shoes fit right. I decided to padlock the ankle cuffs close together so that even if I tried, I couldn't kick the shoes off.

“I also wanted to make sure the shoes would stay on…sort of an enforced foot bondage. The best thing for this purpose is a dog collar chain with the rings at each end. I brought the chain under my foot, crossed it over the instep arch, wound it around my ankle below the strap and cuff and locked it in front with another small padlock. Simple. Easy. Secure. Fun!”

“Well done. I like it. So then what?”

“The pulley ropes you already have down there are okay, but I traded a couple of them from some thin chains I had stashed away in an old suitcase and the chains ran through the pulleys mounted on the rafters quite well. I put heavy-duty snap hooks on the ends and set them up so that I could reach them standing as I was between the pulleys. Then there was the arm dilemma.”

“Arm dilemma?”

“Yeah. You know. What do I do with the chick's arms? Do I chain them overhead, which is really an old, too often used cliché, or do I rig it somehow to get her arms behind her and elbows pulled closely together and…still be able to get out later on?”

“Tough call,” said Jim sympathetically. “It's always been almost impossible to find a way to tension the elbows to max proximity in self bondage and still be able to get out of it. Not an easy play.”

“I know, I know, but I figured you'd be home eventually and that would be the worst case, so I set it up, tried it and then, taking a few breaks, found an arrangement that I figured would work.”

“Okay. I want to hear the rest of this, but it's nine thirty and we do have other things to do, you know. Can you encapsulate this tall tale?”

“No. I don't think so. It's just really convoluted. Can I go on now?”

“Please continue,” Jim said, sighing. It sounded like this would be a long tale.

“Here's the set-up I went with. First I put on the latex hood with the internal penis gag. That fits nicely and doesn’t have any lacing to mess with. I left the eye holes open for the moment. Then I put one of your really strict leather head harnesses on over that, which pushed the gag in deeper and makes the whole head feel encumbered. Encumbered? Is that the right word for it?”

“Yes. Encumbered.”

“Anyway, rather than standing up, I figured out that kneeling would work better, so I put a set of the cushions from the work-out room under my knees. Then came the nice, shiny pair of heavy elbow cuffs you bought from that guy in Germany last month. They are very cleverly designed and thus allow considerable flexibility in how they are used. After playing with them a bit, I realized that I could put large rings on each cuff instead of the usual chain. If the connecting chain was arranged properly, running it through the large rings at each cuff instead of actually connecting it to the cuffs, tension on the chain would pull the cuffs together. This was much better than just attaching the connecting chain to the overhead pulley chain alone. When you do that, you are just pulling the combination upward. With the chain sliding through the rings, the elbows are drawn back and kept there as long as there was strain on the chain.”

“I know, I designed it that way,” Jim said. “The same is true for the lace-up back closures of the leather discipline helmets we just got. I always wanted to find some way to increase the tension of the enclosure, AFTER the lacing was done up tight. Placing the rings in the lacing pattern and then attaching them to a rope or chain going up or to the ankles or where ever you want, allows you to tighten the fit nicely. Both of these little additions are of great assistance in self-bondage like you were doing. The best part is that when the tension is removed, they loosen up.

“So I have learned,” Sandy said. “The elbow cuffs fit beautifully just above my elbows and your cleverly conceived adjustable chain between them worked fine. I ran the end of the connection chain through the rings on the cuffs and hooked both ends to one of the pulley chains from overhead. Then I bent my knees, which did exactly what I thought it would: it pulled the elbows closer together. Neat. Now I had to calibrate the pulley chain to get it right, but finally I was able to kneel with my elbows pulled up and very close to touching. With that done, I stood back up and put the Terrible Triple Tees on my nips.”

“You used the Triple Tees?”

“Yep. And boy, I wished almost immediately that I hadn't. Those Terrible Tit Twisters are Hell.”

“I know. That's why I don't use them on you unless I am right there or you want them. Nasty, dangerous little bastards.”

“Right. Horrible. They not only squeezed my nipples, but seemed to be intent upon wrenching them from their attachment to my tits. When you close them, the tiny teeth take a sort of circular grip, actually twisting the flesh. But they were on and I was too close to finishing up, so I just went ahead, closed the eye holes in the hood and locked on the wrist manacles behind my back.” Sandy stopped and sat looking intently at Jim. He stared back at her, wondering what was going on.

“So?” he said finally.

“So? Are you kidding? I had fucked myself royally. Did I mention that the overhead pulley chain from my elbows was connected to my very closely locked feet?”

“No, I don't think you did,” said Jim quietly, waiting for the bomb to drop.

“Did I happen to mention, as you rushed me a few minutes ago, that I had already linked those wrist manacles to the second pulley chain and that the chain was connected to my already horribly clamped nipples?”

“No. I think you left that part out.”

“So, Mister Fix-it Man, tell me how I got out of it.”

“How you got out of what?”

“How the fuck I got out of the chained, gagged, hooded, dildoe-fucked, ass-plugged, tit-twisted hanging from pulleys in the basement situation, you idiot.”

“Oh,” was all Jim could say for a moment and then he added, “Where were the keys?”

“Oh?” Sandy shrieked. “Oh? Good Christ, Jimmy, I was screwed in the basement and you didn't even know it. I was on my fucking knees, wrapped in rubber, jerking myself silly with the usual double dongs going like crazy and suddenly realized that I was not going to get loose from this situation. It finally dawned on me that you were not going to be home for a long time and that I would probably go nuts before anyone found me because, to answer your question, the keys were well out of reach. I put them next to me on the knee cushions initially, but in the multiple revamps and having to go back upstairs so many times, they somehow got moved over near the wall.”

“Right. Of course,” Jim said. “You screwed up. You broke all the auto-bondage rules and you were in trouble.”

“Yes. Yes. That's it. It just hadn't occurred to me. I was too busy with other crap: running back and forth, up and down the cellar stairs, adjusting the pulley chains, sticking in bigger and fatter dildoes and making sure that the pecker-in-the-mouth gag job was really effective and stopped just about every sound I made. If you had been there, you would have seen it at once: that I was setting myself up for a true NEE, a No Escape Event.”

“Sounds like that,” offered Jim, lighting up a long, thin cigar, sitting back in his leather recliner, turning on the vent fan in the wall and stirring a fresh cup of coffee. “So, are you going to finish?”

“Finish?” Sandy laughed. “I finished about a dozen times. I was so excited, probably by the subconscious knowledge that I was NOT going to get out of it, that I had trouble focusing on a plan of escape.”

“Well, sweetheart, given the situation, I would say that you made the best of it. After all, as long as you were there, why not enjoy the ride, right?”

“Exactly. That's what was going on. The image I had seen in the mirror upstairs was locking in my mind and I was now a prisoner. I lost all sense of time. I was getting dehydrated and my muscles, especially in my thighs and arms, were starting to cramp. After the tenth or twelfth climax, I really slowed down and started to worry. The gag, the rubber hood and the head harness seemed to be getting tighter. I was sweating like a pig. I stank. The dildoes were running out of battery power and you know how that crazes me.”