Bondage webcam fantasy sex story.

Last weekend I helped a family friend rig his sailboat. Our first stop was a store named West Marine. As he searched shelves for the parts and pieces he needed I explored the rigging or “deck tackle”, as he called it. Here I learned a great deal. Did you know that with its stock of soft lines, pulleys, cleats, jam and cam cleats and ratchet pulleys that such a store is a regular bondage/ self-bondage enthusiast’s heaven. I spent $178.49 and came home with things that I knew would amuse both my wife and me for some time to come.

On the ride home after helping my sailing buddy rig his boat and go for a sail I thought about how I was going to put the tackle I had purchased to good use. I had purchased 2 medium sized pulleys, 2 small pulleys, 2 “cam cleats” 4 medium duty shackles and about 75 feet of 3/8 inch low stretch line.

I started by drawing how I was going to lay everything out. I envisioned the cam cleats, when used with a small weight, as a neat escape proof way of taking up slack in a line. Decided to have my fun in my workshop in the backyard. I started by running the line backward. I tied two pieces of the rope to two 10-pound weights. Then I used long drywall screws to mount the two cam cleats on a piece of 1 by 12 Oak shelving that spanned three wall studs. That way each of the cam cleats would be mounted one stud apart making the distance between cleats 32 inches. I put an eyebolt just above each cam cleat and another about 6 inches below the cam cleat. That way the rope will absolutely have to run through the cleat.

Next step I put 2 eyebolts in the ceiling studs of my workshop close to the wall studs. I used two shackles to attach two of the smaller pulleys to the eyebolts. Ten feet out from the wall I screwed the last two eyebolts to the joist. The largest pulleys were attached to these with shackles. Then I threaded the line through the cleats and pulleys.

In order to hold the weights up until I was ready, I made two eyes, trigger loops, out of coat hanger wire. I sharpened the ends of these loops with my grinder so I could easily push them through the line without damaging it. I pulled the weights up and stuck these through the line. When the weights were up they had about 4 feet of travel to the floor. I tied a pair of suspension cuffs to the line so they were 5 feet 6 inches off the floor and cut off the excess. I tied a piece of nylon surveyor’s twine to each of the trigger loops. The end of the twine was tied to each of the suspension cuffs. That way I could pull back on the cuffs and instant and inescapable self-bondage.

My wife and I play a self-bondage/bondage game that is like an Olympic contest. The object is to get the highest score from 1 to 10 for (1) inescapability of the self-bondage, (2) creativity in the use of the bondage devices (3) the helplessness,(4) immobility (5) and artistic display of the person in bond.

The points of the scoring up are added. The award is one belt switch across the buttocks for each point for each point below ten in each category and one more minute in the bondage for each point. When the points of the five categories are added up for example and “8” in all categories would cost me ten stripes from the belt and additional 40 minutes in the bondage.

I set the stage for a contest, first I put a note in the stairs, “i am in the workshop waiting for your inspection.” ( the small letter “i” was her cue that I would be in self-bondage). Then I proceeded out to the workshop, disrobed and put all of my clothes in a plastic grocery bag. The bag was hung on a clothesline that ran through pulleys to the back door of our home. I then pulled on the line sending my clothes to the back door, when the bag reached the pulley by the back door I pulled hard on the line and the clothespins were knocked off the line and the bag fell to the ground.
Now, I was truly ready for my latest self-bondage test!

I placed my ankles in a 28-inch wide spreader bar, put on a wooden posture collar that I had made. This collar prevented any movement of my head. With it installed I could only look up and forward at the clock on the wall. Finally, I made the commitment, slid my wrists into the suspension cuffs and pulled the line releases. The gear performed flawlessly and I was stretched out ready for inspection. I was nude, helpless, spread so that my most sensitive places were available for her enjoyment. I then discovered a feature of the cam cleats that I had not planned on. If I moved and got any slack on the line to ease the pressure, the weight descended and the cleat took up the slack. Any attempt at struggling was not advisable. I looked at the clock on the wall, 5:54 PM, my wife should be home in about 15 minutes.

It seemed like hours until she arrived home and another hour until she arrived out in the workshop. The workshop door opened and she remarked, “Well a new treat for me! I’ll get right to the scoring. This will be fun I just bought a new stress tester for you.” She held a short black rubber paddle made of a series if 1 inch wide straps. Without another word, she laid five stinging blows across my back and buttocks. I yelped in pain. “Time for the silencer!” She remarked as she held up a gag in front of my eyes. “Brand new, just for you.” She popped the gag into my mouth and buckled the belt behind my neck. She resumed “stress testing” my self-bondage as a hail of stinging blows seared my buttocks and back. I swayed in the bonds as each stroke landed. “Still too much movement.” She commented, “I’ll have to fix that.”

She held a black object in front of me. “See you should be thankful I went shopping with you today. I went shopping at Susie’s X-rated adult party shop on the way home. Do you know what this is?”

I recognized a parachute and nodded my head.

“Well, let’s install it and see how well it works to eliminate all that nasty thrashing about.”

She walked over to my workbench and got a cordless drill, drilled two pilot holes in the workshop floor and installed two eyebolts. She screwed one about three feet in front of me and one behind me. Next, she pulled down on my balls and snapped the parachute into place. She spotted the coil of rope on the bench and tied it to the front eyebolt. I could feel her as she tied it to the ring on the parachute and then heard her behind me she pulled the rope quite tight and then tied it off.

“Tight enough?” she giggled. ” I have just one more thing to do then we can resume testing your new toys.” She tied two pieces of rope from the rear eyebolt, one around each ankle and pulled them very tight. “Ready?”
The hail of blows resumed.

With the pressure on my balls and my ankles pinioned I could not move.

“Ready for scoring?” I nodded.

“I score this as follows: (1) inescapable = 10; (2) creativity = 10; (3) helplessness = 9; but (4) immobility = 7; and finally (5) display = 8.”

She got a pad and pencil and wrote down the scores and added them up,” Out of a possible 50 you scored 44. That’s 6 switches and 24 more minutes. Ready?” I didn’t even try to answer as the slow deliberate switched landed on my buttocks. I concentrated on not moving as the parachute and ankle ties had done their job.

“Great, no movement are you ready for an early release?”

I nodded, “yes”

She removed my gag and collar and gave me a full deep kiss. “Neat one, now for the big question, Will it fit me?”

“I think so. Only one way to find out… test it.” I replied. “In order to release me, you’ll have to pull the weights up, put those little pins through the rope and release the cam cleats, those silver things on the crossbar between the studs.

She lifted and pinned each weight, triggered the cam cleats and then knelt down and released the spreader bar, ankle ties, and parachute and its ropes. She stood on a small ladder to help me out of the suspension cuffs.
“It’s my turn now. I can’t let you have all the fun. We have lots of time our son is out with his buddies tonight.” She remarked as she removed her clothing. She stood nude in front of me and said, “I’m ready. Let me set myself up and see how I score.” Without saying another word she buckled the spreader bar around her ankles, tied the rope around each ankle in such a way that her feet were about one foot back from the blocks that held the line with the suspension cuffs. “This way I’ll be forced to lean forward and that should restrict any movement. Now how do I trigger it?”

I pointed to the two small lines from the pins.

She slipped her wrists into the suspension cuffs, gave the lines a quick snap and was stretched into position. “Wow, this may be your best ever. I see that if I struggle it takes up any slack and gets tighter.”

I gave her a deep kiss and massaged her clit as I said, “Ready for testing time?” I slid the gag into her mouth and buckled it. Then I placed the posture collar on her small neck and buckled it. I picked up the rubber switch and laid a series of blows across her pretty butt. She writhed in agony. The bonds only got tighter.

“Now for the scoring.” I remarked, ” (1) inescapability = 10; (2) creativity = 5 (that was for the offset ankle position, remember she was copying my design- loss of creativity points);(3) helplessness = 10; (4) immobility = 6; (5) display only a 7. That’s only 38 points which leaves us a twelve point deficit. Are you ready?”

She was wide-eyed and nodded, knowing she had no choice but to submit.

“Let me make one small change before sentence is carried out as an experiment. I went over to the workbench and got out a medium sized “c” clamp. I covered any sharp places with soft foam rubber tape, put a condom over that, slid it up her moist pussy and clamped it securely on her mons. Then I took the remaining rope I had bought, tied it to the clamp and stretched it over to my work vice. “Call it a female parachute.” I laughed as I began her penalty.

I worked her back buttocks and thighs over with slow deliberate and strong switches. She twitched a little and tears ran down her cheeks. When I saw the tears I quickly removed her gag. “Are you OK?”

She whimpered, “Yes, my butt is a little tender, but what an endorphin rush!”

“I’ll pick things up, you still have 4 times 12 or 48 minutes of your sentence left or do you want to trade it out?”

“TRADE, please trade.” She gasped.

“Will you trade for 48 switches?” I proposed.

“How about 8 switches and I get to be your personal sex slave.” She countered.

“Accepted, you’ll be collared, hands cuffed to your thighs and nude.” I said.

“Agreed.” She said with a smile.

I gave her the remaining 8 switches, released and pinned the weights.

I helped her get out of the suspension cuffs and released the “c” clamp. She bent over and released her ankles. I slid the adult bondage toy box from under the workbench and removed a pair of the thigh cuffs buckled them around her thighs and buckled her wrists, then I added a small belt around her elbows. A heavy metal collar and chromed leash made her outfit complete.

“My first duty.” She knelt on the floor to give me a blowjob.

“Not so fast.” I stood her up, covered the workbench with her clothes, “Now bend over.”

She bent over the workbench and I spent the next few minutes slowly entering her. I ejaculated with force into her.

“Now slave, clean off the royal penis.”

Obediently she knelt and licked both of our juices off of my penis.

It was dark out so I gathered her clothes and led her back to the house for a night of even more fun. For the rest of the night, I relaxed and watched a video as she kept my penis warm and moist. I put a small square mirror alongside me on the sofa so she could watch too. I let her sleep in the thigh cuffs, spreader bar and a remote vibrator inside her so I could torment her during the night. Each time I awoke after a dream I would massage her clitoris, twiddle her nipples, at about 5 A.M. I awoke and turned on the vibrator.

When she awoke I was glad I had left her restrained. I had a horny wild woman whose only thoughts were of sex with me. It was fun to watch her struggle and listen to her plead for relief. Finally, I freed her from her bonds and enjoyed her affection.

These past 30 plus years of marriage just keep getting better all the time. When friends of ours have affairs to act out their fantasies we feel sorry for them for they don’t even stop to think that the answer to all their fantasies is their wife, girlfriend or “significant other”.

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