BondageCircus

This story is the result of a series of challenges I received over e-mail. My partner would imagine a bondage situation and I would then describe how the heroine managed to free herself. The project was that her bondage would get stricter and stricter, and more dangerous with each new challenge. Until she found herself in am inescapable bondage that would kill her.

I like to write this kind of things. So, if you can imagine a cruel bondage situation, feel free to send it to me over e-mail, and I shall try to escape it and send you my story.

Also, you can check my blog on my Yahoo 360° where you will find other types of scenarios I like to write for. Collaborative writing is what motivates me, so do not hesitate to write me!

The escapologist show

Paragraphs written by CL

Paragraphs written by Aurélie Catena

Fourth round: the stocks

After your jacket is removed a set of stocks is brought out you notice that there is only one hole for your neck and with flat board. I place it around your neck then latch the halves together the wood fits very tight around your neck the hole being just a little too small.

I am now only wearing a narrow, black leather thong and a black-leather bra that contains my proud breasts. My body is bathed in hot lights, standing almost naked in front of millions spectators. The stocks are heavy on my shoulders and the hole for the neck is slightly too small, putting some pressure on my throat. I hate stocks. They are among the most difficult piece of bondage to get out, even if the latching system is very simple.

I take a long nail with a larg head and place the back of your hand against the end of the stock and drive the nail through your palm nailing it in place.

As I see you approaching with the nail, my eyes grow wide and I try to pull my arm away, but an assistant is holding my hand and arm securely against the wood. The pain as the nail penetrates through my flesh is atrocious. I scream to the top of my lungs, yanking on my arm to free it, to no avail. A few more hammering and the nail head is resting against my damp palm. My arm is stretched under the plank, with my wrist bent at the end and my palm facing outward.

I get another nail and nail your other hand the same way.

My struggles are even more frantic as the assistant holds my left arm and you place the nail. I know what it is now, and my right hand is still throbbing in agony and sending waves of pain up my nerves. A few seconds later, both arms are stretched out under the stocks, my hands nailed to the wood. Tears are rolling down my cheeks, I’m panting slightly. Never have I been in so much pain.

A spreader bar is bright out and I fasten it behind your knees buckling the leather straps around your legs. I take a lenth of wire and twist tie it around your ankles then pull the wires tight and tie the ends to the end of the stocks putting you in a frogtie type position. the camera pans over your skantily clad body zooming in on your nailed hands and then your spread legs.

I am lying on my bowed back, with my arms stretched out, my knees wide apart, and my feet pulled towards the ends of the stocks, forcing me to curl my body. The wires are digging cruelly into the flesh of my ankles, making the skin to bulge around it. The position is very obscene, my wide-open thighs offering an unobstructed view of my scantily covered crotch. A camera is zooming upon this area and my crotch aired to millions of TV across the planet.

But my intimacy is the last of my concern. My hands are in agony, almost paralysed by the horrible pain transfixing them. I can hardly move my fingers. My belly is panting fast as I try to accommodate to the difficult position, my breath slightly hindered by the tight neck hole. My toes and the black-painted nails are wiggling helplessly. I can feel the hard wood planking against my spine. I’m sweating profusely.

I have to figure a way out. From the corner of my eyes, I can see the latches of the stocks. There is one each side of my head, in the middle of the arms. They are very simple latches but they are desperately out of reach of my fingers or my face.

I am very bendy and thus, by clenching my strong abs, I manage to curl my body even tighter, getting some slack in the wires anchoring my ankles to the stocks. I twist my feet so as to bring my toe nails in contact with the wire, on both sides. Then I begin to move my nails along the wire in a sawing motion. This is difficult and extremely painful as the wires keep yanking on the stocks, reviving the pain in my nailed hands. It is very slow too, but some powder of metal can be seen falling from the wire, where my toe nails are working. My abs are forming like pipe under my belly skin, the muscles of my legs are knotted and slightly trembling. My face is a mask of pain and concentration.

Several times, I have to take a rest and lay on my back, trying to breathe more deeply. My shoulders and arms are full of cramps. My neck is getting raw from the continuous chaffing of the wood. My hands are immobile, half clenched, the big nail head visible in the middle of the palms. But always I start my work again.

And suddenly, the wires break apart! My feet are free, whilst my knees are kept wide apart by the spreader bar. But now at least my legs have more freedom. For a moment, I uncurl my body, relishing the regained possibility to stretch my cramped legs and my spine. Lying on my back on the stage, my proud leather-clad breasts are heaving on my chest.

Then I sit down, lay my left leg on the floor and bring my right knee against my mouth. Using my teeth, I unbuckle the strap holding the knee spreader bar. Once it is free, I do the same with my left knee. The public cheers as I stand up, trying to smile in spite of the pain in my hands and shoulders.

Then I sit down again and use my left leg to brace myself on the floor. I lift and contort my very bend right leg, bringing my toes against the latch on the left-hand side of the stocks. My skilful toes fumble a few seconds with the latch and then open it. I do the same with my left foot and the right-hand latch. The stock halves open, letting me breathe more freely. Grimacing with pain, I lift the half nailed to my hands from my shoulders, while the other half fall on the floor. I put the heavy timber on the stage in front of me. My hands are still nailed to it in a very awkward position.

I try to pull on the nails but I just manage to torture myself without making the nails to move at all. I look around and notice a screw protruding from the wall. Crawling on my knees, I push the half stock in front of me until I reach the wall. Once, there, I lift the right end of the stocks and manage to slide the screw head under the wide nail head. It makes me wince in agony as the pain propagates along my arms. I clench my teeth and begin to push against the stock with back of my hand. I can feel the screw head slowly pulling the nail out of the wood. The flesh of my hand seems to be pulled out too and I scream in deep agony. Inch by inch, I manage to pull to long, bloody nail out of the wood and flesh. With a last inhuman scream, I yank on the nail, which pulls out completely. The stock and the nail fall on the floor as I howl, shaking my pierced hand.

Pulling the nail out of my left hand proves easier as I can now use my right arm to work. But the pain is not any lower and my screeches echo through the circus. Finally, the left nail is pulled out too. I stand up and lift my arms victoriously. I’m drenched in sweat, but I have got out of the fourth challenge!