Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult (23 page)
During dinner, we review some past experiences and chat about some contemporary issues, such as some communities that are more open than others with the whole erotic fantasy issue. Los Angeles and San Francisco still seem to hold the most open views on all such things, but there remain some pockets of tolerance in other areas. Certainly, every city and state has its groups, many of them quite formal that gather and entertain much as we do. Meanwhile, the chosen demonstrators are putting their little personal shows together. Some chose to use the closets and other revert to their sleeping rooms. We have even had some choose to use a bathroom or part of the kitchen and on special occasions, the lodge's garage and barn have been the sites of personal demos. By the end of dinner, one person from the group makes the rounds, checking on the demos and making sure that they are ready. Then the dinner groups tour the demo sites. This is a fascinating experience, no matter how often you do it. It is both strange and a bit eerie to walk quietly into a room and see someone we know strictly bound and incommunicado. At times, they will use small signs to describe what they set out to accomplish. Usually though, it's just a silent presentation of a man or woman sitting, kneeling, hanging in suspension or on a pole or cross. Sometimes they have music in the background.
Everyone takes notes and comments, pros and cons are held until later when all demos have been observed. We spend about five minutes with each demonstrator. Then, with a stopwatch running, the tour leader calls "escape" and the demonstrator must release himself or herself. How elegantly and how quickly this is done is noted and rated by the group. Sloppy escapes get low scores. Carefully planned and executed escapes get higher scores, but depending, of course, on how complex the bondage was in the first place. Back in the dining room or living room area, the comments are collected and scores tabulated. There will be no winners, but the overall results are shared by all and we are free to constructively comment on what was demonstrated. If, for example, number three was chained hand and foot to a vertical wooden beam, but failed to securely attach herself, leaving her hands more or less free, a lower score would be given than if she appeared to be totally immobilized and required a time release before freeing herself. If the naked young man in the barn had tied himself so well that he was obviously slowly freezing before he was able to free himself, that would be so noted and also scored low.
On the other hand, if a very pretty young woman, clad only in a body stocking that nicely displayed not only her nipple and labia rings, but also the plugs up her ass and cunt while she hung in a complicated rope suspension, showed that she could release herself by tugging on a single dangling rope, she not only gets a round of applause from the observers, but also a very high score.
Here's a recent session I went to:
Demo number one was a young woman in her early twenties who we all knew because in the past, she had been reluctant to join in the demo party. On this evening, she left the dinner table early in order to get ready for her show. When we next saw her, she was suspended from an overhead chain, her feet a foot off the carpeted floor in the game room. She wore a red rubber hood over her head with a large red ball gag that just barely showed through the mouth hole in front. Over the hood was a black leather gag harness. Her eyes were sealed with a strip of red rubber that fit over the eyeholes and snapped on each side of the hood. So, she was well sealed in above her neck. Her only body attire was a finely made harness, which we later learned was made for her by an expert, retired, saddle-maker in England. The harness was beautifully detailed with smooth curves that fit her lovely body, silver fittings supplemented by stainless steel where strength was needed and imbedded locks that were nearly invisible. What made the harness special was that it incorporated a perfectly functioning arm restraint that held her arms in the prayer position behind her back, with matching straps and buckles at wrists, elbows and biceps. As we studied this beautifully displayed hanging body, each of us wondered how she possibly could have gotten into this rig without help, not to mention how she planned to escape.
The harness had other features, some of which were evident and some that we only learned about later. Around her chest, the double, silver-studded bands encircled her nicely formed, somewhat conical breasts with X bands crossing the plumb mounds and a small silver-ringed hole in the center where the bands met, showing a ripe, pink nipple caught in the silver circle. Subtle, but very nice.
From the chest bands, vertical straps went down, crossed her belly and joined a single slightly wider band around her hips. This hip strap was perfectly molded to match her curves and then plunged into her bare apex to disappear between her closely strapped thighs. The narrow, studded strap emerged in the rear at the base of her spine where it again joined the hip belt and then continued up to the chest bands, making a full body harness of the highest caliber. What was between her legs attached to the crotch band, we could only guess, but her ardent struggles and irregular breathing through the hood seemed to indicate that something was active inside her belly and it wasn't indigestion from the rubber chicken we had for dinner.
Four thin, silver-adorned straps extended downward from the hip band, much like suspenders for stockings, but these linked up with wide leather bands that tightly encircled her upper and lower thighs, another below her knees and yet another at her ankles. She wore no footwear, but her large toes were neatly bound with a small silver cuff that linked to a sliver chain extending down to a ring and weight on the floor.
There was no question in any observer's mind that this was an excellent bondage display. However, we were all mentally and candidly remarking that it was disqualifying because, as we all could see, getting out of it would be impossible…not to mention that there appeared to be no way she could have gotten herself into this situation in the first place without some help.
Did I mention that she was gagged and blindfolded? Well, she was. And she hung there, shivering and shaking as the invisible forces nestled in her abdomen took their toll. We all watched for the requisite period and then, when suddenly the timekeeper rang the escape bell, we all anxiously stared at her naked, sweat-covered form, knowing in our hearts that she could not possibly escape, but wondering exactly what would happen next.
It is required that if the contestant does not escape in two minutes, assistance would be rendered, requested or not, so we were all anxious to help her out, but we waited as the seconds ticked by. At the one-minute point, the girl seemed to do something with her hands. She groaned loudly into the gag from the effort and then, as she slowly pivoted on the end of the suspension chain, she showed us her freed hands. She reached down and touched the harness belt at her waist and, holding onto her overhead chain, released her legs and elegantly slid down to the floor.
The body harness remained intact, still snug around her body, her nipples tensed in the silver rings, her waist and crotch still embraced by the rest of the harness. A ripple of hesitant applause began and turned into a flood of cheers and whistles as she bowed and then did a ballet dancer's graceful leap back behind the curtains.
Later, she showed us the beautiful harness and told us that she asked her saddle-maker to join with her and a magician friend to design the quick escape mechanism that released her hands, arms and feet.
"He did a super job the first time," she told us. "But I wanted something foolproof, so they went back to the drawing board and came up with what you just saw. It is mostly springs and metal interwoven with the leatherwork. The silver decoration is really camouflage for the mechanisms. There are tiny cables linking all of the key parts and they must be adjusted carefully before I put it on. The release works in reverse when I place my arms into the prayer position. That is, I put my hands up against my shoulder blades, making certain that my arms are properly positioned, and squeeze one release that closes the bands around my wrists, biceps and arms." She showed us how it worked.
"Then, when I want to get free, I squeeze this little spring clip here and the three bands unlock, springing open like the cuff of a manacle or shackle. The leg clamps work the same way. All springs and slight of hand," she happily added.
Her stunned audience applauded once again and we adjourned for cognac and coffee.
Chapter Twenty-Seven
This is an especially vivid narrative of both the actual bondage and the fantasy script that Lynn played in her head. Although such an experience is apparently common, her details make the story particularly interesting.
Lynn - A Typical SB Scenario
They chained me in a tiny cell, took away all of my clothes and jewelry, put a disgusting rubber gag in my mouth and slammed the door shut. I heard the bolts close. The light went out and that was just the beginning.
That's how Lynn says she often begins her SB sessions. Asked to tell the group exactly how this would go, she provided the following additional narrative…basically a script in her mind that set up the fantasy she was about to experience on her own, without any outside help.
I was really chained more than necessary. They put shackles on my ankles; heavy, wide manacles on my wrists and a metal collar around my neck. The gag was just an additional nasty thing they added to make me know I was completely under their control. Leaving me there, with my neck chained close to the back wall, I could only kneel and wait. Keeping me naked was important. When I am bound without clothes, the feeling of helplessness increases tremendously.
I knelt there for awhile in the darkness. In reality, I was kneeling in an empty concrete cubicle in the basement of my old house. Years ago, this had been the coal bin and when I bought the house, I realized that it had great potential as a private dungeon, so that is how I equipped it. The original coal storage area had wide planks across the entrance and a hole at the bottom to allow coal to be shoveled from the pile behind the planks.
One weekend, I removed the old boards, filled the area with a cement block wall, leaving a small doorway in which I mounted heavy antique hinges for a door, which I later made out of some of the old planks. The door was hard to hang, but I finished it the next weekend and I was happy now to have a special area all my own for my SB fantasies. Over the next few months, I equipped it with things I had always kept locked away in suitcases and trunks. Now the chains, shackles, cuffs and collars were attached to rings in the walls and I could control the lighting with a hand-held remote. My safety was a wire phone line into the cell with the phone in a small wooden box on one side. On the other wall, I put a second phone, this one a cell with a charger that kept it active. The number for this cell was known only to me and the nit-wit midnight marketing callers who simply pulled the random number out of thin air. I also kept a few emergency items in another box that looked like a low bench seat on the sidewall. Inside was a pair of heavy bolt cutters, a hacksaw and a range of duplicate keys that fit every cuff and lock I owned. This may seem like overkill, but in SB, safety has got to be the prime rule. So far, after three years of playing here, I have never had to use any safety equipment, but the security of knowing I have it is paramount.
So on this day, I was kneeling, chained and gagged, in the little darkened room. My hands were manacled behind my back and joined to the chain between my leg shackles. Hands were the last thing I fastened and I made sure that the quick release connections worked before I closed the spring-loaded ends. To get loose, I only had to pull the release on one of the two connections. If this sounds too safe, too simple, so what? I like this system. Likewise, my collar was locked with a unique lock that required a three-dial combination to release. I epoxy-cemented the first two dials in the open position. The third dial was always set within one notch of the open number. So, if I had to quickly remove the collar, I just turned the one dial to the next number and the lock was then easy to open.
Other safeties included split rings on each connection between chain and cuff. In an emergency, these can be forced open, but not without a great deal of strain.
After some time to contemplate my situation, I then heard, in my mind, the sounds of my captors coming back. They unlocked the heavy door and one of the men entered, swishing the well-worn riding crop in his hands and looking me over, as if he was trying to decide how he wanted to torment me next. His eyes, like those of so many men, kept returning to my very large tits and I knew this was where he was going to concentrate his efforts to make me come on his command and feel the pain he wanted to bring to me. We waited. He stared at my chest. I closed my eyes until I felt his calloused hands on my arms and back.
"You will do as you are told, Miss Walker, or I will make things very uncomfortable for you,” he said with his Boston accent. “Do you understand?”
I shook my head and mumbled through the penis gag.
He laughed and went to the side of the cell, removing a tangle of chain and straps from the metal crate that had originally held the chains I was now bound in.
"The first thing I think you need is some excitement," he said quietly as he untangled the mass of metal and leather in the pile by his feet. As he did this, I noted with horror the twin dildoes already attached to a single piece of chain. They were huge and it was clear that they were intended to go into me somehow, but the thickness and length of these monsters were certainly more than I could ever accept. I shuttered just looking at them. Again, seeing my concern, he laughed.
My collar chain was loosened and I was forced to spread my legs as wide as the shackles allowed. He placed a heavy chain around my narrow, 25-inch waist, squeezing it until I could barely breathe, then attached the dildoe chain and closed the waist belt with a padlock, leaving the dildo chain dangling down with the twin probes obscenely awaiting insertion into their new homes.
