A Colorado Country Girl\'s Self Bondage

Memoirs 2

 

                                                                                                CH 5

 

                A nice thing about living in a big city is that you can be anonymous. Living in Denver was wonderful, I could be wicked then disappear into the crowd.                  

Bondage and exhibitionism can be addictive. I grew more daring. I wore more revealing clothes to school and to work. I explored Denver by riding the city busses, and discovered the thrill of letting some man get a peek up my skirt as I sat on the bus. I often went out in public wearing only a pussy rope under my skirt. I nearly stopped wearing panties altogether. I made several pussy belts out of thin material that didn’t show under my clothes. I tried different materials, including leather, which became my favorite. I made them so that they were very tight and could be locked with tiny padlocks. Sometimes I left the keys home. It was exciting to walk around wearing a pussy belt. It still is.

                John was patient with me and tolerated my shenanigans, and looking back after all these years, I am grateful for his maturity. I wanted to do some reckless things but he prevented me from doing some things that might have gotten me into serious trouble.

However, he did come up with one scenario that turned out to be so wild that it still makes my pussy tingle after all these years. Its a bittersweet memory though.

He set things up and told me what to do.

I dressed like a prostitute one evening. I wore spike heels, a mini skirt and halter top and no bra. I drove to a street called Colfax Avenue. Its a main thoroughfare and has a lot of cheap bars, pornography shops and streetwalkers. I parked a few blocks away and walked to the main street. I was excited and my nipples were hard and poking the material of my top. I got a few leers and catcalls which I ignored, but I did enjoy the attention. I loitered on the corner for about half an hour and had to decline two inquiries as to what I would do and for how much. (But I have to admit I was flattered that men were willing to pay me for sex).  It was fun pretending to be a prostitute. I was very turned on and went into a burger joint and bought a soda. I went to the restroom and took off my panties. I threw them in the trash can then went back out.

A police car rolled to a stop beside me and  John got out. That was part of his plan, but another officer was with him. That wasn’t! John didn’t tell me that he was scheduled to have a partner that night.

He had coached me about what to say and how to act.

“Ok, what are you doing?” John demanded.

“I’m just waiting for my friends to pick me up,” I said. “We’re going to a concert down town.”

“Dressed like that?” he said in disbelief.

“What’s wrong with the way I’m dressed?” I asked.

“You look like a hooker,” John said. “And if it walks like a duck and quacks like a duck, I figure its a duck. Let me see your identity card.”

“Oh, I left my purse at home,” I told him. He sneered knowingly and asked my name and date of birth. I gave him a fake name, one he had told me to use. He got on the radio and called in the name.

John’s partner was a young officer a few months out of the police academy. He was tall and slender and had a sweet boyish face. He wasn’t as experienced as John but he already had an air of authority. He looked at my skimpy clothing with unabashed interest. I was turned on by his attention.

John got out of the car and motioned to the young officer. “Put the cuffs on her, Gary,” he said. “She’s got a warrant.”

The young officer ordered me to turn around and put my hands behind my back. I was thrilled when I felt the cool metal snap on my wrists. I tried to resist but he was very strong. He pushed me against the car and bent me over the trunk. I loved the feel of my breasts being crushed against the metal. He held me in a very firm grip.

“I don’t have any warrants for my arrest,” I protested. “This has to be a mistake.” They ignored me.

“Should I search her?” he asked John. I realized that bent over like I was my pussy must have been exposed. I instinctively tried to close my legs, then remembered what I was supposed to be, so I opened them. The officer pressed his hip against my bottom to keep me still.

John looked me over for a moment. “Nah, I don’t think she’s concealing much under that outfit.”

John told me the scenario was that he would arrest me and take me away in handcuffs. I assumed that he  was going to take me to some quiet place and screw me. At first I was dismayed that he had a partner. I was afraid we wouldn’t be able to play out our game, but my exhibitionism was already in high gear so I thought I’d see how far I could go with another man present. As things turned out, I went completely overboard.

The young officer, Gary, opened the back door of the patrol car and motioned me in. I sat sideways, looked up at him and opened my legs, wide. That drew a chorus of whistles and cheers from some guys loitering nearby. John growled at them to knock it off and disappear. They did.

Gary’s eyes flew to my naked pussy. I sat there until he motioned for me to put my legs inside. I wriggled backwards until I was in the middle of the seat. Gary ordered me to move closer to the door so he could buckle my seat belt. I wiggled around until I was where he wanted me, keeping my legs apart the whole time. Gary leaned inside and buckled my seat belt across my lap.

 I had already surprised myself by showing my pussy. I’d never done anything so blatant, but then I did something more astonishing. I leaned forward and  pressed my breast against his arm.

 “Would you like to fuck me?” I whispered to him. “Or let me suck your cock?” The words just seemed to pop out of my mouth. I couldn’t believe what I was saying. It was as if I was a different person.

John had walked a few steps away and was writing in his notebook.

The officer didn’t even look at me. “Forget it.” he said.

“Oh, don’t misunderstand me,” I whispered. “I’m not trying to get out of going to jail, but these handcuffs turn me on and you’re kind of cute, and I’ve always wanted to be on my knees in front of a policeman.”

“I said forget it,”

“I’m being terrible, aren’t I?”  I said, pretending to be contrite. “You must think I’m a very bad girl.”

He glanced at me.

“I am a bad girl,” I went on. “And bad girls deserve to be punished, don’t they? Do they spank bad girls in jail? They ought to. Or could you stop in some secluded spot on the way and spank me, I would deserve it, wouldn’t I?”

He glanced at John.

“Oh its all right,” I said. “He can spank me too.”

Before Gary could answer John got in and started the motor. As we drove to the police station  John concentrated on driving and Gary stared rigidly ahead.

“Officer, my hand cuffs are very tight,” I said. “Could you loosen them?”

They ignored me. I asked again and told them that I was losing circulation in my hands. When Gary turned to look at me I opened my legs. He looked at my pussy for a moment then turned away. I whined about the cuffs until John stopped the car and told Gary to loosen them.

He opened my door and undid my seat belt and I managed to push my breasts against his arm again. He grasped my shoulders and turned me so he could reach my handcuffs. John glanced back an looked surprised when he saw my pussy.

Gary loosened my cuffs and rebuckled my seat belt.

“Thank you officer,” I said nicely. “That feels much better.”

I kept my legs apart the rest of the way to the police station hoping Gary would turn around and  look, but he didn’t, so I worked my skirt up to my waist. If this sounds like I had lost my mind, its true. That night I went out of my head.

When we arrived at the station Gary said a word to John.

“Sally port?”

“No, we’ll walk her in.”

I found out later that a sally port is a sort of garage that they use to bring prisoners into the station.

John parked the car and walked toward the building, leaving Gary to get me out of the car. Gary’s eyes really widened when he saw where my skirt was. He hesitated to undo my seat belt until John yelled at him to get a move on. I smiled sweetly at him and climbed out of the car.

It was just getting dark and there were officers walking to and fro in the parking lot. I was thrilled beyond belief when I stood up with my naked pussy for all to see. Gary grabbed my arm and held me against the car while he yanked my skirt in place. Then he walked me into the building.

“Is there some place you’re going to take me for interrogation?” I asked him hopefully. “Someplace where you can torture me into a confession?”

They took me inside to a holding cell. It was a small room with a desk and telephone. In a corner was a wire mesh cage with a metal bench. They put me in the cage.

“Keep an eye on her while I got get the hard copy of the warrant,” John told Gary. John glanced at me, shook his head faintly and walked out. John’s head shake was a warning. One that I ignored. Gary sat at the desk and began writing something. I sat on the bench and opened my legs.

“Don’t you normally take the handcuffs off when you put prisoners in here?” I asked Gary.

He looked up and saw my pussy.

“Oh don’t get me wrong officer, I want to keep them on,” I said. “They feel sexy.”

“Pretty damn kinky, aren’t you?” he said.

“You don’t know the half of it,” I said. “The kinkier, the better I like it.”

                “Ah,” Gary said. “I bet your customers pay well for that.”

                “I told you, I’m not a prostitute,” I said. “But I do have lots of experience in bondage. Watch this.”

                I skinned my arms under my legs and stood up. His eye brows rose in surprise.

                “Very agile,” he commented.

                I peeled my top off my breasts, then yanked my skirt down and kicked it off. Then raised my arms up and did a slow bump and grind.

I had gone off the scale! I was shameless.

                “Ok, put your clothes back on,” Gary ordered.

“Not unless you fuck me first,” I said. I pressed my breasts through the screen and rubbed them back and forth. I slowly knelt, keeping my breasts against the cold metal the whole way. “Or let me suck you off.”

He rose and left the room. I wondered who was going to come in and find me. Maybe jail wasn’t so bad, if I could do all these things while policemen watched.

A few minutes later Gary returned with another officer, a female officer. She looked at me in disgust and opened the cell door. Gary held my arms while she knelt and slipped my skirt up my legs, then she pulled my top in place. She unlocked my hand cuffs and relocked them with my arms behind me.

“That won’t help,” I told her. “I can get my hands in front if I want.”

“No you won’t,” she said flatly.”  She took a short braided rope from her hip pocket, something cops call a hobble. She looped it around my upper arms and tugged it so tight that my elbows were touching. I gasped with delight and my nipples popped up. The female officer shook her head in contempt.

“Has she been searched?” she asked Gary.

“No.”

She looked me over dispassionately. “Do you think she’s carrying drugs?”

“I wouldn’t be surprised,” he answered. “But if she is, there’s only one place she can be hiding them.”

“Yeah,” she said resignedly. “Guard the door.”

Gary walked outside and closed the door. I could see the back of his head through a small window. The female officer grabbed my arm and led me out of the cell.

“Sit on the desk and open your legs,” she ordered.

I was taken aback. I hadn’t figured on a woman getting involved.

“What are you going to do?” I asked, then gasped in alarm as she took a box of surgical gloves from the desk and slipped a pair on. I instinctively closed my legs. She sighed wearily and took a set of leather restraint cuffs from a drawer. She grabbed my leg and buckled one on my ankle. I was still a little uncertain, but liked the feel of the cuff. I didn’t resist when she buckled the other cuff on. She yanked my feet apart and clipped the cuffs to hooks on the corners of the desk.

“Lie back and keep your knees apart,” she ordered. “If you don’t cooperate I’ll call in more female officers.”

“Yes ma am,” I whispered. “But I think I ought to warn you about something first.”

Are you threatening me?” she demanded.

“No ma am,” I said quickly. I shut up and lay back. I looked at the door hoping that Gary was watching. He wasn’t. Damn!

I had never had sex with a woman in my life and never had any serious desire to, but I was so incredibly turned on that I knew that I was going to cum the second anyone touched my pussy, male or female. Sure enough, as soon as her hand touched me I had an orgasm!

I gasped and arched my back. I felt the entire universe expand in my pussy and ripple out through my soul. I bit my lip to keep from screaming.

The officer jumped back in astonishment. She stared at me in contempt and disgust.  I felt so wonderfully low and degraded. I was free to be the slut that existed deep inside me. Every wicked, dirty, trampy part of my soul was there for her to see. That was the deepest, purest, most submissive moment in my life so far, and it was heavenly!

“Are you finished?” she asked.

“I’m so sorry ma am,” I said sincerely. “I couldn’t help myself, honestly. That’s what I tried to warn you about.”

“Hmmm,” she said. “Are you a lesbian?”

“No ma am.”

“Did you really just have an orgasm?” She seemed bemused.

“Oh yes!” I said emphatically.

“Very few hookers react that way,” she said. “They’re usually burnt out, desensitized.”

“I’m not a hooker,” I said.

“You’re not? Then why the outfit? Were you cruising the streets looking for a thrill?”

I nodded.

“That can be dangerous,” she said. Her tone softened slightly. She nodded toward Gary outside the door. “Were you hoping to be arrested?”

“No, but I’m glad it happened.”

She chuckled. “Well, you got lucky with the officers who picked you up. Those two are just about the handsomest men on the department.”

“They are cute,” I agreed. I didn’t mention that one was my boyfriend.

“You won’t have much luck,” she said matter of factly. “Male cops are warned about having sex on duty, especially with women in custody. It could get them fired.”

“Oh, I see, ” I said. “Too bad.”

Her attitude began to soften.

“What do you do for a living?” she asked conversationally.

“I’m in college and I work at a shopping mall,” I told her. “I’m really not a prostitute.”

I saw that she believed me. She started to strip the rubber gloves off.

“I don’t suppose you have any drugs hidden up your pussy, do you?’

“No ma am, but if you want to check, I don’t mind.”

“I thought you weren’t gay?

“I’m not,” I said. “At least, I wasn’t until a few minutes ago.”

She laughed softly. “Was that all it took?”

“I guess so,” I confessed. “I’ve never been touched like that by a woman before.”

“I see,” she said. “Well, according to protocol, I am supposed to make a thorough body search.”

I looked up at her and opened my knees wider. She looked at the door again, then touched my pussy.

I sighed with delight. Her touch was different from a man’s, it was gentler, more knowing and undeniably nice. I liked it.

Her fingers slipped inside my pussy, one at first, then another and another until all four were inside. Her thumb found my clitoris and kneaded it so sweetly. I closed my eyes in pure delight.

“I can’t believe I’m doing this,” she said softly. “I could get fired for it.”

“Oh dear,” I moaned. “Please don’t stop.”

“Let me know when you are close to coming,” she said. I heard an odd sliding noise.

I opened my eyes and almost came. She had drawn her baton and was placing the end between my legs.

“Yes!” I groaned. I opened my knees as wide as I could.

She pulled her fingers out of my pussy and immediately slammed her baton in. she shoved it in deep and fast. I came so hard that the desk bounced off the floor. She leaned over me, locked her eyes in mine and jammed that baton in again and again. She saw that I was fighting to keep from screaming and clamped her hand over my mouth. She was strong and I was helpless in her grip. I thanked her with my eyes while the ripples of ecstasy coursed through my belly.

She withdrew the baton and caressed my face while I fought to bring my breathing back to normal. She undid my ankle restraints and helped me sit up.

She took a deep breath and patted her cheeks.

“That was a new experience,” she marveled.

She slid the baton into a ring on her belt. She untied the hobble from my arms.

“That club is a wonderful thing,” I told her.

“Yep, and you don’t have to worry about getting pregnant with one,” she said. “You ought to hear what the male cops think that we females do with them alone in our cars.”

“I can guess,” I laughed. “But are they right?”

“Absolutely.”

I stepped closer to her.

“I wish there was time for me to show you my appreciation,” I told her.

“That’s not necessary,” she said, “Besides, I thought you weren’t a lesbian.”

“After this I may have to switch over,” I said. “And even if I stay straight, I’d still like to please you. I’ll do anything you like.”

“Do you think I’m gay?” she asked.

“Aren’t you?”

“Nope. I’m married and have two kids,” she said. “Believe me, I’ve never done anything like this before.” She stripped off the gloves. “And I’d appreciate it if you don’t tell anyone.”

“Maybe I won’t, and maybe I will,” I said. She frowned in concern.

 “I might have to blackmail you into doing it to me again sometime,” I giggled.

She grinned and walked to the door.

“She’s clean,” she told Gary and walked away. He came back into the room and locked me back in the cell.

John came back after a while and tossed some papers on the desk.

“She’s not our girl,” he told Gary.

“What?”

“The physical doesn’t match up,” John went on. “Wrong height, weight, and eye color. The fingerprints are way off and the original booking photograph is obviously not this girl.”

“Damn,” Gary said in annoyance.

“Yeah,” John agreed. “I’ll go find the lieutenant and get permission to take her back to where we found her.”

John walked out again and Gary opened my cell door. “Turn around and I’ll take off the cuffs,” he told me.

I backed up against the wall. “No way,” I said. “I want to keep them on.”

He shrugged and stepped away. I sat down and opened my legs.

A few minutes later John returned. A police lieutenant was with him. I instinctively closed my legs when I saw the lieutenant.. He was in his forties, tall and muscular with black wavy hair graying at the temples. He radiated authority. He was definitely not the kind of man to mess with. And he was the sexiest man I’d ever seen.

“Why is she still in cuffs?” he asked Gary.

“Because she takes her clothes off otherwise,” Gary told him.

“Is she drunk?” the lieutenant asked. “Or on drugs?”

“Not that I can tell,” John replied.

The lieutenant turned to me. I looked into his gray eyes and could have melted. I was a little frightened and a whole lot turned on. I looked him squarely in the eyes and took my clothes off again. 

The men looked at me in silence.. The lieutenant looked my body over and even nodded in appreciation. John was shocked and I should have realized that I was going too far, Unfortunately I didn’t see the warning in his eyes.

“All right,” the lieutenant said. “Hold her over night until she’s sober. Release her in the morning.”

He turned to me. “You have a choice, you can put your clothes on and leave them on, or I’ll have a pair of jail matrons come down and put you in a jump suit and total restraints.”

“Total restraint sounds sexy,” I answered.

He picked up the phone and called the jail. A few moments two uniformed women arrived. One was carrying all sorts of chains and leather cuffs, the other carried a set of orange coveralls and a plastic bag.

The men watched silently while one woman held my arms behind my back. The other opened the bag and removed a pair of cheap cotton panties and held them for me to step into.

“Not very sexy,” I said, but I let her slip them on me. The woman holding me raised my arms above my head while the other slipped a cotton tank top over them.  Her hands were strong and I don’t think I could have gotten out of her grip. Not surprisingly I found this exciting.

I sighed resignedly when they put me into the shapeless coveralls. I hated the idea of  being clothed, but it got better when they locked the restraints on me. They cuffed my hands behind my back and buckled three wide straps around my arms and body. They locked a heavy belt around my waist, a strap around my legs above my knees and leather cuffs on my ankles.

They worked with the efficiency of long practice. Not a word was spoken. I wondered how many hundreds of women they had done this to. They grasped my arms and lowered me to the floor face down.  They brought my ankles up and clipped them to my wrists. 

“I don’t mean to be critical,” I said sincerely. “I’m only trying to be helpful, but the strap on my arms is loose. Could you tighten it?” They did.

I wriggled on the floor. “This is awfully nice,” I told them. “But couldn’t you make an exception just this once and chain me in the nude?”

They ignored me and filed out of the room. John, Gary and the lieutenant followed.

I heard the lieutenant talking in the hallway. “Keep her restrained over night, then release her when day shift comes on. No need to file any charges or write a report.”

I heard them walk away.

I tested my chains and thought I was in heaven! This wasn’t a game and I wasn’t going to escape. I strained against the unyielding metal until my pussy was on fire.

I lay on that floor all night loving every second. I listened to officers bring in other prisoners, heard the ranting and later the snores of a couple of drunks in other holding cells, and listened to officers talk in the other holding rooms. I slipped into one of my fantasy states. I dreamt that dozens of cops came into my cell and screwed me in my chains. I dreamt of handsome tough male officers with big cocks and stern, unsympathetic females who fucked me with their batons. I enjoyed a particularly vivid dream where the lieutenant yanked me to my knees and shoved his cock into my mouth. I never slept, but dozed at times with powerful erotic fantasies in my head. When I woke out my dreams I strained at my chains. The harder I tried to break free, the hotter I got.

I made so much noise that a passing officer looked in on me.

“If you just calm down a little, we’ll take those restraints off you,” he said reasonably.

“I don’t want them off,” I said. “I like being chained up.”

He thought I was being defiant. He shook his head and walked away.

At eight the next morning the two matrons reappeared and released me. I considered throwing a fit so they’d keep me longer, but I was getting hungry and had to go to the bathroom pretty bad. They unchained me and told me to put on my clothes. I begged for a restroom and they took me to one, then they walked me to the back door.

I expected to find John or Gary but they were no where in sight. I found out later that they were on a stabbing call.

“Wait here,” a matron told me. “Day shift is coming on duty and an officer will drive you back to your car.”

I waited in the cool morning air. I was hungry and tired and wanted to go home. People came and went from the building. I got quite a few looks in my skimpy clothes.

“What are you doing here?” a voice asked me. It was the female officer who had searched me. She was in civilian clothes.

“Waiting for someone to drive me to my car,” I told her.

“I thought they released you last night,” she said.

“They were going to, until I became uncooperative with the lieutenant.”

“Oh?”

“I took my clothes off in front of him,” I said. “He thought I was drunk  so they kept me in chains all night.”

“Was that lieutenant Dale?” she asked.

“I didn’t get his name,” I answered. “He was about forty, black hair with gray at the temples, and very sexy.”

“Yes, that was Dale,” she said. “ Just between me and you, I wouldn’t mind taking my clothes off in front of him either.”

“I thought you were married?” I said.

“I am,” she replied.” But I can still dream, can’t I?”

“I had a pretty wicked dream about him,” I said.

“After a night in restraint you ought to be stiff and sore,” she said.

“Not really,” I told her. “I enjoyed myself, and I’ve spent longer periods than that tied up.”

“Really into this bondage thing, huh?”

“You better believe it.”

“Where is your car?” she asked. “I’ll give you a ride.”

I got in her car and we drove away.

“What are you doing today?” she asked.

“Sleeping,” I said. “Being arrested was exciting, but exhausting. I want to get something to eat, then I’m going to crash at my apartment.”

“Do you mind some company at breakfast?” she asked. “I’ll buy.”

“Not at all,” I told her. “But I’ll pay. I really owe you for that terrific orgasm.”

“That’s what I want to talk to you about.”

She took me to my car then I followed her to a breakfast restaurant.

“I really hope you won’t tell anyone about what happened between us last night,” she said. “I wasn’t kidding about getting fired if word got out.”

‘Don’t worry,” I said. “I’d never do anything to harm you.”

She seemed relieved.

“So tell me more about your kinky lifestyle,” she said lightly.

Her name was Jill. She was thirty one, married with children and had been on the police force for six years and we seemed to click at once. I instinctively felt I could trust her so I told her everything. How I got started with Bobby and our game, about my self bondage in front of my mother, my homemade torture machines in the barn and the hot sleepless nights on the farm. I told her about my escapades at the mall and kinky sex with my boyfriend. I didn’t tell her John’s name or that he was a cop. And I didn’t mention that I’d discovered my mother using my bondage machines.

We talked for a long time. It was nice to have another woman to confide in. We talked until we were both sleepy, so we went our separate ways. Before she left she gave me her home phone number.

 

                                                                                Ch 6

 

John was not pleased with my behavior at the police station. I had gone too far. He had planned to arrest me, let me show off a little to his partner, then take me to the station. He planned to keep me in the holding cell for an hour or so, until he ‘confirmed’ that I didn’t have a warrant, then take me back to my car. He wasn’t expecting me to show my pussy or to strip naked in the station.

I was hurt that he didn’t understand how much I’d enjoyed myself. I was grateful to him for allowing me to play out my fantasies and disappointed that he now regretted it. I resented his criticism and we got into a quarrel. I lost my temper and told him about the female officer fucking me with her baton. Luckily he wouldn’t believe that any cop would do something so stupid and didn’t believe me, but he was furious that I would make up such a lie.

It finally sunk in that I’d gone too far. I got frightened and begged him to forgive me. I told him that nothing had happened with any female officer, that I’d just made it up. Thank God he believed me.

Later, we talked calmly and John explained how most cops who lose their jobs do so over sexual misconduct. He wasn’t a coward but being a cop was his life’s dream and he didn’t want to lose his career over my lack of common sense. We hugged and made up, but things were never the same after that. John refused to play any more bondage games in the mall and began distancing himself.

I tried to make amends. I behaved myself at the mall, took him home made cookies, left little love notes in his mail box, but the magic was gone. Eventually we broke up.

I went through all the heartache of a broken romance, made worse because of the guilt I felt. I moped around for days. I needed someone to talk to but calling Mom was out of the question. She would have been horrified if I told her what I’d done. It was a tough lonely time for me, then remembered Jill and called her. We met for lunch, and I dressed properly.

I told her that I’d split up with my boyfriend over my arrest.

“What happened?” she asked.

“I made the mistake of telling him about my night at the police station,” I said.

“I thought he was pretty liberal about your bondage fetish,” she said.

“So did I,” I said. “But I overdid it. He didn’t like hearing about how I displayed myself to all those police officers.”

“You didn’t tell him about what I did to you?” she asked.

“No,” I said. “I just told him that I’d been strip searched by a sexy female cop. I didn’t go into any details but he sensed that I was attracted to that lady cop and that upset him too.”

“A sexy female cop?” she repeated with a little smile.

“Very sexy,” I said.

“So he broke up with you?” she asked.

“Not right away,” I said. “He didn’t trust me anymore. It was only a matter of time after that.”

She nodded understandingly.

“From what you’ve told me about your bondage, I have a feeling that its like an addiction. You reach plateaus, enjoy things at that level for a while, then need a bigger thrill so you move up to another plateau. And each new level is more dangerous than the last.”

“That’s exactly the way I am,” I admitted.

“Have you done anything wild and crazy since your arrest?” she asked.

“No, I’ve been so depressed that I haven’t been in the mood for sex,” I told her.

“Maybe you ought to look for a nice decent guy who isn’t into bondage,” she said. “Take a break from ropes and chains.”

“You mean join ‘Bondage Anonymous’?”

 

I tried to take Jill’s advice. I dated nice guys, went to movies and concerts and did simple wholesome things, and was bored to death. I began tying myself up again and tried to be content with that. It didn’t work. All I could think about was John and how I had ruined things. I was at the lowest point in my life.

I was so guilt ridden that I decided to abstain from sex and especially bondage. I began thinking that I didn’t deserve any happiness. I threw myself into my classes. It lasted for a few weeks, then I fell off the wagon.

I discovered a bondage shop.

I was on a city bus when I passed a shop that advertised sexy leather goods. I tired to keep to my resolve, but the shop intrigued me. A few days later I went back, and this time I got off the bus and went inside. I was astonished at what was on sale. They had whips, floggers, riding crops, leather restraints, fetish clothing of all sorts, and books. I wandered though the store almost in a daze.

The place empty except for a female clerk. She was about forty, very attractive, and in leather. She wore knee high boots, a leather miniskirt and vest that exposed a generous amount of bosom. She had a full head of rich natural red hair that cascaded around her shoulder. Her skin was pale and her breasts were freckled and she had deep green eyes.  She was leaning on  the counter reading a magazine. She offered the usual “can I help you?”.

“Just browsing,” I told her. She smiled and went back to her reading.

I spent a long time in that store. I looked at almost everything they had. My nipples were rock hard and my pussy was hot and damp.

A woman came into the store and bought some nipple clamps. She and the clerk knew each other and chatted. I wandered over, intrigued when I heard the word nipple clamps. I was nervous and shy but they smiled in a friendly way and I felt welcomed.

“Could I see some nipple clamps too,” I asked.

The clerk took several from a glass case.

“How tight do you like them?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I said honestly. “I’ve never worn them before.”

“Are you a dom or a sub?” the customer asked.

“Uh, a sub,” I said.

“Been in the scene very long?”

“Since I was sixteen.”

“Wow! I’m impressed,” the clerk said. “I didn’t get into bondage until my second marriage.”

“Yeah, I was a lot older than sixteen when I went kinky,” said the customer

“It was all pretty tame,” I said. “Mostly I tied myself up.”

“Good self bondage isn’t all that easy,” the customer said. “You have to be pretty adept to make it work properly.”

I took some rope off a display and handed it to her, then turned and crossed my wrists behind my back. She tied them quickly and expertly. I turned to face them and untied myself in about thirty seconds. She was impressed when I handed her the rope. 

“So how did an innocent little girl like you get hooked on this stuff?”

“A boy and I were playing in the barn one day and I let him tie me up. That was all it took.”

They nodded understandingly.

“Barns can be very dangerous,” the customer observed. “But a lot of fun.”

“They sure can,” the red head said. “I wish I had one. I could use all that space.”

“What for?” I asked.

“For my dungeon,” she said. “I’m trying to make do with a spare bedroom in my apartment.”

“You have a dungeon?” I gasped.

She looked at me like I was an idiot. “Oh, no,” she said richly sarcastic. “I just dress like this as a fashion statement.”

“Now be nice,” the customer said to her. “The girl is young.”

“Sorry sweetheart,” the clerk said to me. “I’m a professional dominatrix and I have a dungeon.”

I was astonished that she was so matter of fact about it. And intrigued. I blushed deeply.

“Go on with your story,” the customer told me kindly.

“I let the boy me all through high school,” I continued. “But we didn’t have sex or anything. Like I said, most of the time I tied myself.”

They were genuinely interested. The clerk went to the back and returned with three cups of coffee. She introduced herself as Mary. The customer was Denise. We talked for hours.

I discovered that both women were dominatrixes and friends. I was fascinated that people paid them to be tied up.

I told them about myself, my fantasies and a few of my escapades. I told them of breaking up with my boyfriend. They were sympathetic.

“What have you been doing since you broke up? Mary asked.

“Just tying myself up,” I said. “But its not as much pleasure as it used to be. I have a friend who thinks bondage is addictive and dangerous.”

“Your friend is absolutely right,” Denise said firmly. “A lot of people have gotten hurt. Be careful.”

They told me stories of people who had been injured, even killed by getting hooked up with sadists and weirdoes. I vowed to be careful.

“Is your friend into the bondage scene?” Mary asked.

“Oh no. She’s a married woman with children,” I said. They exchanged a look.

“I’m a married woman with children,” Denise said smiling. “And I’m the meanest bitch with a whip in the state.”

“No you’re not, I am,” Mary said. “And I have kids too.” They laughed.

“There are lots of ordinary married folks into bondage,” Denise told me. “Some of their spouses even know about it, but you would be amazed at how many housewives, secretaries, school teachers and professional women feel the need to be tied up and whipped.”

“And the men are worse,” Mary said. “My male customers outnumber the women about ten to one.”

“Wow,” I said. “Men like to be tied up?”

They shrieked with laughter. “Someday, when you’ve got a week to spare, I’ll tell you about all the big strong men who desperately need to be humbled by a woman,” Denise said. “And how much they are willing to pay for humiliation.”

Mary nodded.

“Do you whip your husband?” I asked Denise.

“No, he whips me,” she said.”

“What?”

“I’m both submissive and dominant,” she said. “I love to dominate men and women, I whip them, spank them, and torture some of my clients until they bleed, if thats what they want. Then I go home and go through a role reversal. My husband takes me down to the basement, strings me up by my wrists and whips the hell out of me.”

“What about your children?” I asked.

“We do it when they’re asleep or out of the house,” she said. “Once or twice a month we send them to grandma’s house for the weekend. Then I get a real working over.”

“I your husband a dominator, or whatever they call a man in your line of work?” I asked.

“Nope. He’s a general manager for a plumbing supply company.”

“How did you get into this line of work?” I asked.

“I started out as a dancer,” she said. “A stripper to be exact. And I did modeling. One modeling gig had me in leather posing with a whip and tying up another girl. I liked the feel of the leather so I bought my own outfit and talked my room mate into letting me tie her up. I liked it, she liked it and we became lovers. I was the leather bitch and she was my slave.”

“Ooooh!” Mary breathed. “I’m getting turned on.”

“You’ve heard this story before,” Denise said.

“I don’t care. I still get turned on listening to it. Tell us what you did to your slave.” Mary turned to me. “You aren’t offended by lesbianism, are you?”

I grinned and shook my head.

Denise ignored her. “When wasn’t busy torturing my roommate, I incorporated the leather and whips into my dance act I found that my tips went way up, so I slanted my whole act to leather.

“Strippers are always getting propositioned by the customers and some girls are hookers on the side. The club I worked at was clean and the management didn’t allow us to make dates with the customers, but one man kept asking me to dominate him and offered a lot of money. He was very nice, a gentleman, so I took the chance and met him at a motel. I tied him up and whipped the daylights out of him.”

“Now I’m really getting hot,” Mary said. She yanked her vest open and pointed at the nipple clamps on the counter, then she thrust her breasts toward Denise. Denise shook her head resignedly.

“Which ones do you want?” she asked.

“Bad boys,” Mary said. “Sharp teeth and all.”

Denise picked up a clamp, pinched Mary’s nipple until it stood out, then put a clamp on it. Mary’s breath hissed through her teeth..

“Oooooh, thats so good,” she said. She offered the other breast. Denise placed a clamp on it.

“Now can I get on with my story?” she asked.

‘Just a second,” Mary said. She turned to me. “Would you like to try on some nipple clamps while she talks?”

“No thanks,” I said doubtfully. “I’ve never been into pain.”

“You will be if you stay in the scene,” Denise warned. “That’s one of the dangers your friend talked about.”

I looked at the clamps. “Ok, can I start with small ones?”

“Do this instead,” Mary said. She handed me a package of  spring loaded clothes pins. They were black and had rings on the ends. “Take these home and experiment with them.”

“Thank you,” I said. “How much are they?”

“On the house.”

“All set now?” Denise asked me.

I nodded. “Please go on with your story.”

“I discovered that I really enjoyed dominance,” she said. “So I met the guy twice a week. We never had sex but I made him masturbate in front of me at the end of each session. Later he introduced me to a friend who also wanted to be dominated. I soon had a regular clientele and went into business as a dominatrix.”

“What about your husband?” I asked.

“I met him at a party,” she said. “An ordinary party, not a fetish one, and fell in love the moment I set eyes on him.  He asked me out and on the third date I told him what I did for a living. He thought it over for a few days, then decided that he could live with it.”

“He wasn’t jealous?”

“No, but he insisted that I not have sex with my clients. I promised that I wouldn’t and we got engaged.  One evening, a year later we were arguing about something stupid, like household bills. My husband was scolding me for spending too much and I got pissed off at him and I told him that I’d sucked a client’s cock. I hadn’t, but I said it to make him mad.”

“Ooh. What did he do?”

“He calmly picked me up, carried me out to the garage, tore my clothes to shreds and tied me to the rafters by my wrists. Then he took my whips out of the trunk of my car and proceeded to whip me silly.”

“And you liked it.”

“I loved it. It was the first time I’d been tied up and it was wonderful. And I enjoyed the pain. I had a couple of orgasms while he whipped me.”

“And your husband?”

“He untied me, dragged me to the bedroom, and I emphasize ‘dragged’, not carried, and fucked me until I thought I was in Heaven. Later I told him I’d lied about sucking the cock, but threatened to do it for real unless he promised to whip me regularly.”

“Wow.”

“How about you?” I asked Mary. “How did you get started?”

“I was an ordinary housewife,” she said. “Married to my second husband, raising kids, going to the PTA, worrying about bills, all that normal stuff. But I liked to read cheap romance novels, especially the ones about the woman who gets captured by Indians, or pirates who strip her and tie her up.”

“I’ve read a few of those,” Denise said.

“So have I,” I told them.

“Anyway, I wanted somebody to tie me up.” Mary continued. “I asked my husband but he wasn’t into it. His efforts were , , , uninspired and I was frustrated. We were living in San Francisco And I ran across an ad for a dominatrix in the newspaper. I was afraid to let a strange man tie me up but thought I’d be safe with a woman., so I called the number and set up an appointment. She tied me up, dominated me, touched me all over and made me play with myself while she watched.”

“You were submissive?” Denise asked surprised.

“Yes, for years,” Mary answered. “My dom and I became very close. She even had me participate in some sessions with other clients.”

“What did she do?” I asked.

“She handed me over to them bound and naked, then watched as they tortured me.

“Your husband didn’t know?” I asked.

“Not a clue,” she said. “Anyway, my dom saw something in me that convinced her that I was on the wrong side of the whip. She decided that I wasn’t truly cut out to be a submissive. I didn’t believe her, but she was persistent. She talked me into a dominance session with one of her male clients. I did it just to shut her up, but discovered that she was right. I got very hot whipping that man so I switched over and let her train me to be a dom.”

“What then?”

“I soon built up a string of clients of my own and began making nice money. I told my husband that I had taken a part time job as a night accountant at a bank. The problem was I brought all my earnings home and it didn’t take him long to figure out that I was making more than a part time accountant should make. I finally told him what I was doing and he demanded that I quit.”

“Uh oh,” said Denise.

“I was too hooked on the scene,” Mary said. “And I liked the money I was making. Besides, being a dom gave me the self confidence to get out from under his thumb.”

“If you’re going to be dominated by a man, make sure he throws in a few whippings from time to time,” Denise told me. “Otherwise its just no fun at all.”

I giggled.

“Anyway, we split up,” Mary continued. “I got custody of the kids.”

“Do they know that you’re a dominatrix?” I asked.

“The girls do,” she answered. “They’re eighteen. Their brother is twenty two. He doesn’t know.”

“What do they think about it?”

“They are intrigued,” Mary said. “They want to come to  a session and watch.”

“You know, bring your daughters to work day,” Denise interjected. Mary glared at her.

“I don’t think I could dominate someone,” I said. “I like being helpless.”

“That’s cool,” Mary said. “I still like it once in a while.”

“I makes for a nice change of pace,” Denise said.

“How much does it cost to be dominated?” I asked.

“I start at fifty bucks an hour,” Denise said. “And it goes up depending on what the client wants.”

“Oh.”

“However, I just happen to have a special rate for first time college girls,” Mary said. “The first two hours are free.”

“Oh my,” I gasped.

“Actually, we have a two for one offer on that special,” Denise said. “You can get two doms for that low introductory offer.”

“Be sure to tell your friends at college,” Mary joked.

“Interested?” Mary asked.

“I don’t know,” I said. “Maybe, but . .”

“Don’t rush into it,” Denise said kindly. “Think it over. The offer will remain open.”

I went home in a terrible quandary.

 

                                                                                                CH 7

 

The visit to the store had brought back all those deep, dirty, exciting feelings about bondage, but it brought back all my guilt too. I dithered for days and convinced myself that I deserved to be punished for screwing up things with John. Perhaps pain would atone for my stupidity. I decided to take them up on their offer, but vowed that I wouldn’t let myself enjoy any part of it.

I hadn’t opened the package of nipple clamps but I dug them out and put one on my nipple. It hurt like fire. There was no sexual thrill but I enjoyed the pain because I deserved it. I put another on my other nipple. That was my first step into a period of masochism.

I was pretty green and wondered why the package contained several clamps when I only had two nipples. Later I discovered all the places they can be put on a woman’s body. I also found out that my first clamps were weak indeed. Later I wore some with springs so strong that they left marks on my skin for days.

I wore the clamps around the apartment all evening, and suppressed my feelings every time I felt a sexual stirring. I wanted no pleasure, only pain, but the little nipple clamps weren’t enough.  

I returned to the store and told Mary I wanted to be whipped.

Mary wasn’t surprised to see me.

She called Denise to join in but Denise had no free time for several days. I didn’t want to wait so Mary and I went it alone that first time.

Mary worked part time at the bondage store as a favor to the owner. They discovered that business was good on the days she was there in her leather. Fortunately I went back on a day that Mary was working.

I got to the store at three in the afternoon and had to wait until Mary got off work. We chatted and drank coffee and I browsed through the bondage magazines. I had never seen anything so explicit and was very turned on by the pictures and stories. I forgot that I wasn’t supposed to enjoy anything and became completely engrossed, then I became restless. It seemed like the afternoon would never end. Mary noticed and found a rather novel way to pass the time.

She called me to the front of the store and ordered me to take off my shirt and bra. My resolve to suffer returned so I obeyed. I stood with my breasts bared while she put nipple clamps on me. Those were stronger than my first set and they hurt! But I bit my lip and endured the pain. After several pair Mary left a set on me and told me to put my shirt on. I did and winced when the material touched the nipple clamps. The slightest touch made the pain worse.

Mary told me to leave my blouse unbuttoned, then walked me around the store. She selected a pair of leather cuffs and locked then on my wrists. They weren’t as heavy as the ones I wore in the police station, but they were too strong for me to get out of. I tried not to enjoy it when she locked my wrists behind my back.

Next she put a metal hobble on my ankles, It was an oversized set of hand cuffs with a twelve inch chain between them. I could walk but only in short steps.

After that came my first slave collar. Mary selected a high stiff one that forced my head up. I was fighting with myself trying not to allow my excitement to take over. I reminded myself that I was there for punishment. While we were doing this a customer walked in. A girl about my age.

“I’ll be right with you,” Mary told her, then clipped a leash to my collar and lead me to the counter.

“Wait here,” she commanded.

I stood like a pink faced statue while Mary waited on the customer. The girl looked at me curiously. “Is she a model?” she asked Mary.

“No, just a submissive little slave,” Mary answered. My pussy tingled when she said that, until I remembered that I wasn’t supposed to enjoy anything.

The girl looked over a selection of whips and finally bought one. She told Mary that it was for her roommate.

“Is your roommate a boy or a girl?” Mary asked.

“A girl,” the customer replied. I was surprised. She didn’t look like a lesbian.

“Do you make her wear nipple clamps?” Mary asked.

“No,” the girl answered. “Do you think I should?”

“Let me show you what we have,” Mary said. She brought the girl to the counter. Mary took out several types of clamps and the girl looked them over. From time to time she looked at me. Knowing she was a lesbian made me uncomfortable. It got worse when Mary opened my shirt to show her the clamps I wore. But then I reminded myself that I was too low to object. I was a slut and deserved to be humiliated. I thrust out my chest.

Mary discussed the merits of various sex toys with the girl, and pointed out that nipple clamps had more than one use.

“What other use?” the girl asked.

“You can whip them off the slave’s tits,” Mary told her. My pussy tingled when she said that.

“Oooh! That’s a wonderful idea,” the girl said. “Have you done that to her?” she meant me.

“That’s going to happen later this evening,” Mary said, smiling wickedly at me.

“You lucky thing,” the girl said to me. She paid for her purchases and left.

She was barely out the door when a couple entered. They were a man and woman. The man was tall and nice looking, but covered with tattoos. (I’ve never liked tattoos), the woman was fat with enormous breasts. They looked at me with unconcealed interest as they wandered through the store. Mary gave them a few minutes, then tugged on my leash and lead me to them.

“Is there anything I can help you find?” she asked.

“We’re thinking about a new whip,” the man said. “A bigger one.”

“I’m getting used to the old one,” the woman stated matter of factly. “My boobs are getting desensitized to it.”

“Hmm, what kind are you using?” Mary asked her. The woman pointed to one of the whips. “We bought it last year.” It was a short flogger with suede strands.

“Yes, thats a pretty soft whip,” Mary agreed. “Do you want to stay with a cat of nine tails, or go to a bull whip?”

They shrugged. Mary handed the woman a long slender whip.

“This is braided leather,” she said. “Its very hard but not very flexible.”

“Can I try it?” the woman asked. Mary nodded and the woman handed the whip to her husband. He waved it around a few times, made it spin like a propeller, then tried to make it crack.

“That takes more practice than people realize,” Mary said. “For now why not just whip her a few licks.”

The fat woman pushed her breasts out and her husband whacked the whip across them.

“Come on,” she said. “You can do better than that.” He hit her harder.

“Ooh, that stings,” she said. “But not enough.”

Mary nodded and they looked over the selection. The man took down another whip. It was thinner and longer.

“Try it,” the fat woman said. He looked around at the cramped area. There wasn’t room to swing the whip properly.

“We have a room in the back,” she told the man. “Why don’t you take her back there and try different whips.”

He selected a handful of whips and they headed to the back room. Mary lead me to the counter and resumed her phone conversation.

I was a nervous wreck.

I listened to the muted sounds of a whip and occasional squeals coming from the back of the store. After half an hour the couple emerged. The woman’s face was bright pink, her hair was damp with perspiration but her eyes sparkled. She was breathing very fast and couldn’t stand still. She hopped from foot to foot.

Her husband dropped the whips on the counter. He set aside two.

“We’ll take these,” he said pulling out his wallet.

“Did the trick?” Mary asked.

“Oh yes!” the woman replied.

“How do your boobs feel?” Mary asked.

“They’re on fire,” the woman replied. “And he won’t let me rub them.” Her hands fluttered toward her breasts, but didn’t touch them.

Mary chuckled. “Do you need anything else? A gag for instance?”

“Actually, we probably do,” the man said. “She’s just about chewed the last one apart.”

“I have a feeling that she’s going to need one,” Mary said. The woman blushed, but smiled.

“Ok,” her husband told her. “Go pick one out.”

As they left he turned and said: “Thanks for the use of your dungeon.”

“Is there a dungeon in the store?” I asked.

“Yes, in the back,” Mary said. “Didn’t I tell you about it?”

She led me through the curtains, down a hallway and into a large room filled with torture devices. My nipples perked up instantly, and the clamps hurt a little more, which was good because I didn’t deserve pleasure. (My thinking was pretty messed up in those days).

“We have bondage parties here,” Mary told me. “I thought I’d told you about that.”

I shook my head as I marveled at what I saw. There was a torture rack. A real one with a winch at one end for stretching people. I couldn’t wait to be on it. There were several pillories in a row. It didn’t take a genius to figure out that several women could be tortured at once. I couldn’t suppress the throbbing in my pussy.

Mary showed me the bondage frames, gallows, iron maiden and other wonderfully wicked things. I was in mental torment because I wanted desperately to allow myself to enjoy everything, but I was a slut and didn’t deserve it.

“Would you like to wait in here until I get off work?” Mary asked.

“Yes.”

“Any preferences?”

I nodded at the rack. “Would you put me on that please? And make it hurt.”

“Ok, let’s get you naked.”

She undid my restraints so I could undress. Then I hopped onto the rack. She buckled leather cuffs to my ankles. They were secured to the rack with heavy chains. She pulled my arms above my head and clipped my wrist cuffs to chains from the winch. My heart was pounding. Then she tightened the winch.

I felt a familiar thrill when my arms were stretched. It was like my home made rack in the barn. My pussy flashed into heat and I groaned at my weakness. I wasn’t supposed to enjoy this!

Mary paused when I groaned. “Too tight?” she asked.

“Not tight enough,” I told her. “Keep going. I want you to hurt me.”

“Ok kid.” She turned the winch.

It began to hurt, really hurt. My shoulders, my hips and my lower back began to burn. I was delighted because the pain wasn’t sexy. I wanted to suffer. Then my resolve crumbled and the pain was sexy. I cried out in despair. I was so  weak!

Mary slacked off the winch.

“No!” I shouted. “Make it tighter!”

“Are you sure?” Mary asked. I nodded emphatically.

Mary turned  the winch one more click, then locked the ratchet down.

She bent over and looked me over carefully. “We have to be careful,” she said. “People can get seriously hurt on one of these.”

That’s what I wanted, serious pain.