Too Close for Comfort
Too Close for Comfort
A True Story of Self-Bondage
By Chris
Like I said, this is a true story, and sort of a cautionary tale. I don’t know why I felt like writing about it, I just did.
I’ll never forget the time when I came pretty damn close to completely fucking myself up for good.
I was a late-20-something and was living alone after having shed myself of roommates some time before. It was a Friday evening after another pain-in-the-ass week of driving back and forth to work 40-some miles away through road-rage inducing traffic because I hadn’t been able to sell my house so I could move closer and I was drowning my stress with several heavy-handed vodka-tonics.
Sometime after dinner, I was feeling horny and kinky and decided I wanted to jerk off. But I wasn’t in the mood for the standard sit-on-the-toilet-and-wank-it kind of jerk; I wanted something a little more adventurous to help relieve the stress.
Nothing inventive immediately came to mind. I thought about doing something in my wetsuit but it was packed up downstairs and was a pain to get in and out of, anyway…too much like work. Then it dawned on me.
It was getting late. I turned off the lights and went upstairs and started fishing around in my closet until I found my favorite green Speedos with the yellow and white stripes. Perfect. Next, I found a pair of tough nylon straps that I’d picked up from some camping store. Last, but not least, I got out a pair of socks and some duct tape from my toolbox in the back of the closet.
After gathering all my equipment, I went into my spare bedroom and locked the door. I don’t know why I locked the door. I didn’t have roommates anymore. I was completely alone and the house was quiet. Habit, maybe.
Anyway, the room was dark except for a little glow from a street light outside. As my eyes adjusted, I stripped off my clothes and pulled on the Speedo. I loved the feel of that Speedo and ran my hands over my crotch a little, warming myself up, and then I sat down on the bed and started getting myself ready.
The bed I had in there was perfect for what I had in mind. It was a comfortable old twin bed with a soft mattress, but more important, it had a footboard with posts and a rail, which the bed in my room didn’t have. I uncoiled one of the straps and wrapped it around the rail of the footboard, feeding the loose end through the buckle, a metal cinch clamp. I slipped an ankle through the loop and pulled it tight, wrapping it around a couple of times. That ankle wasn’t going anywhere.
The strap was long enough, maybe six or seven feet, that there was more than enough for me to secure my other ankle to the rail so that my legs were tied spread-eagle and I felt the beginning of a nice erection as I went on about my work. I pulled at the straps with both legs, testing them. Oh, yeah, I thought…this is perfect. Nicely tight.
I uncoiled the other strap and had to stop and think for a minute about how I wanted to do this. I hadn’t tried this before and maybe should’ve thought about it beforehand. Then I knew what to do. I slid the loose end through the buckle, pulled it through and tied it to the center of the footboard rail. Then I lay back, testing the length.
I wanted to be able to lay as flat as possible with my bound wrists at my waist. It took a couple of tries to get the length to where I thought I would have enough slack, but not too much, for that to happen.
When I had that ready, I balled up one of my socks, shoved it in my mouth and secured it with a couple of long strips of the duct tape. I cried out a little, checking to make sure I wouldn’t make too much noise if I cried out. Just right. The thick sock made a good muffler. Not that it needed to be. There was no one within earshot if I screamed, but imagery is an important part of fantasy.
Then I slipped my wrists through the loop with the buckle and twisted them around, slowly working my hands kind of in and out, until I had what felt like an effective loop but not one that I couldn’t get out of when I wanted to.
As it turned out, I was wrong…almost dead wrong.
Anyway, so I laid back and got comfortable, groping my cock through the Speedos and pulling a little at the tight straps around my ankles, entering my little fantasy of being the kidnapped swimmer or something. As I relaxed, I felt myself get hard again and started rubbing my bound wrists back and forth over my cock.
I was still a little drunk and it took awhile but finally I could feel the tension start to build up deep down in me. I could feel my back start to arch a little, then a little more. I heard myself moaning softly through my gag, but it was weird, it was like it wasn’t me. I kept up the rubbing, a little harder, a little faster. My breathing got heavier. I was totally hot and sweaty now and I pulled more at my ankles. The straps weren’t giving and it got me more excited. Then I could feel my balls start to tighten up and I knew I was about to shoot. The feeling washing through me was incredible. I can’t describe it and I pressed my wrist hard against my cock, trying to keep from shooting, trying to make that feeling last a few seconds longer, but it was no use. When it’s time to cum, there’s no holding it back.
It was one of the best I’d ever had. It was one of those where it feels like your whole body is seizing up and generating sperm and it’s all trying to flood out at once from deep down in your balls. I grunted as I felt it spill out inside my Speedos and I could feel its warmth against my wrists. It felt so fucking great and my body spasmed involuntarily a few times as I pumped the tension completely out of my system.
Gradually, the pumping subsided. Then it was over.
I rested there for a little bit, trying to catch my breath through my nose. I was starting to get a little cold now as the air-conditioning dried the sweat covering me, so I figured that was enough for one night…time to grab a quick shower and go to bed…maybe jerk off another quick one before drifting off.
So I sat up and started to unravel my wrists.
But I couldn’t. And a wave of shock suddenly flooded over me.
When I began this little scenario, I was sure I’d left just enough slack to get loose, but these weren’t the ropes that I usually used. In my horny, semi-inebriated state, I’d failed to take the damn cinch buckle into account. The only thing I could figure was that somewhere during all my rubbing, the buckle had worked its way to the side of my wrists and that when I was going through my orgasm spasms, I’d inadvertently cinched it up tight. Really tight. I felt the buckle digging into the side of my wrist. It wasn’t giving and I couldn’t reach my fingers around far enough to press the release.
I flopped back into the bed with the sinking feeling that I was now just totally fucked.
I didn’t have a roommate who’d be coming home in a while who could rescue me and I could scream all I wanted but no one was going to hear me. I had this vision that they, whoever “they” were, would finally have to break into the house to find out what happened to me and find my body upstairs bound and gagged wearing a pair of cum-drenched Speedos. Yeah, I thought; that’d look good in the papers.
I had to get out of this somehow but I’d tied myself up tight…tighter than I ever meant to and I didn’t know what to do.
I tried to think of anything before panic set in.
I had to start somewhere, so I sat up again and reached down to the footboard and tried to undo the knot to the strap around my wrists. Actually, I more like clawed at the strap, than just ‘untied’ it. My hands shook as I pulled at the loops, finally getting them undone. At least now I could peel the tape away from my mouth. I pulled out the sock and let it drop on the bed next to me as I sucked in a lung-full of air.
I still didn’t know what to do. Should I scream for help? There was nobody around who’d hear. The neighbors wouldn’t hear. Even if they could, I had no desire to bring them into this situation if I might somehow still be able to get out of this. In desperation, I even tried pushing at the release on the buckle with my nose but it was at just the right angle where I couldn’t quite get at it. Even though I’d gotten some mobility for my arms, my wrists remained cinched almost painfully tight and I had a knot in my gut telling me that I was just so fucked.
I tried undoing the strap around my ankles but that didn’t work out. I’d double knotted the end of the strap in some kind of weird way under my right ankle that I couldn’t replicate now if I tried and I couldn’t quite get to it the way my hands were bound. That’s not to say I didn’t try. I tried getting to that damn knot for what seemed like forever, but I couldn’t.
I laid back again. My abs were starting to kill me from sitting up like that, trying to get the strap undone. I knew I had to get it undone. I couldn’t get at the buckle holding my left ankle, it was buried under the strap I’d looped around it. If I could just get my right foot loose, I could get at that knot and then undo my other foot, then I could at least get up, get down to the kitchen or something and get at a knife or some scissors to cut myself loose.
So I worked at that right ankle forever, slowly trying to worm my way out of it.
There was a point where I felt like it was just not going to come free, where I thought for sure that I was going to die of starvation or dehydration or something. I was sure of it. Finally, after all the worming around, I began to feel my heel slip a little more out of the knot. Not much, but it was enough to give me a little hope that maybe I could get out of this. I worked at it slowly for a while longer, trying not to fuck up again and inadvertently tighten it or something.
Maybe it was sweat, maybe something tightened up just enough, but after a while, I finally felt my heel slip a little more out of the strap. I just said fuck it and started twisting for all it was worth. It was painful, though…the straps were cutting into my ankle but I didn’t care; I wanted to get loose in the worst way. Finally, finally, I jerked my leg one more time and my foot came free.
God, that felt good!
I sat up again in a hurry. This time I was easily able to get to the knot and undid it, unraveling my other leg and releasing the catch that held my other foot. Finally, I was free to move around!
I spun myself off the bed in a quick hurry, trying to think of the best way to get the strap off my wrists. I don’t know why the thought popped into my mind, but I pushed the buckle against the corner of the bed table, hoping I could push the release that way. I pressed hard and felt it give, just a little, before slipping off the corner. I cursed as I hit my wrist bone but I tried again. This time, it worked. I pulled at the strap until I got a little more play in the loop and wriggled my hands free. Oh, God…thank you. Thank you, thank you, thank you.
I flung the strap into a corner of the room and sat down on the floor to get my wits together. I was shaking a little…from the air-conditioning or from my close call, I’m not sure which. Both probably.
I was still keyed up, not ready to go to bed yet, but I wanted a shower, as hot as I could take it, so I peeled off my Speedo and went back into my bedroom, I’d straighten up tomorrow…now that I had a tomorrow.
Out of habit, I glanced at the clock next to my bed. It was closing in on 3:00. I had no idea that I’d been tied up for almost five hours.
A lady with a psychic bent once told me something odd, that I’d always been lucky but that it wasn’t the kind of luck that I wanted. It didn’t make sense to me at the time, but it did now…I might not be good with the lottery or games of chance or things like that, but I’d been lucky that night.
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