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

Fifth round: the sawhorse

I look at your painfilled body and let you catch your breath for a minute. Then I reach behind you and unclasp your leather bra and slide it down your arms leaving your breasts exposed for the crowd and the cameras. I get an evil grin on my face and a sawhorse is brought to the stage. I lead you to it then place you stomach down on the sawhorse so that your legs are spread and beside the legs of the sawhorse on one end and your arms are at the other end.

I’m resting on my belly on the top plank of the sawhorse. I can feel it pressing against my front, from my pubis to my neck.

I take a length or barbed wire and fasten your wrists to the legs of the sawhorse as tight as I can then do the same to your ankles after making sure the top of the sawhorse is against your slit through your thong. I add some more wire around your upper arms and thighs.

I grimace as I feel the barbs penetrating my skin all around my limbs. I make sure to clench my muscles as strongly as possible, making my forearms, biceps, thighs and calves to bulge as you coil the wire around them. My arms and legs are now applied tightly against the sawhorse legs. Looking down at my uncomfortable position, I see that my toes are but inches above the floor.

I make sure you have one of your naked breasts on each side of the top of the sawhorse then take two nails and a hammer, I place the tip of one nail against the side of your left breast and nail it to side of the top of the sawhorse then do the same to your other breast.

I can’t resist the urge to scream as the nails pierce my tender flesh, penetrate through my mammary glands before entering the wood. Every hit of the hammer makes the sawhorse to propagate the pain to my whole body. I can feel the hammer against the sides of my breasts as you push the nails deeper, until the nail heads are against my sweat-covered skin. The pain emanating from my breasts is transfixing. I don’t dare to breathe too hard by fear it would increase my agony. I look down and see my proud breasts hanging down, protruding under the top plank of the sawhorse, with my nipple erected because of the pain.

A rope is looped around your neck just under your chin and tied off to the back end of the sawhorse forcing your to keep your head up or strangle.

I feel the rope pressing against my throat, forcing my breathe into a hiss, unless I arch my neck even more backwards. I am now forced to stare at the spotlights above me. I cannot even look at my arms. The strain on my neck is painful and I wonder how long it will take for the first cramps to appear.

I am now only wearing a narrow thong, the widest part of which is hidden against the sawhorse. The black leather strings over my hips and between my buttocks are so thin that my body is virtually naked. My body is stretched cruelly on the sawhorse, leaving me helpless, pinned to the wood, my skin glistening in sweat under the hot spotlights. Or so it seems to the hapless crowd.

All the muscles in my limbs are still bulging, clenched tight. When the host announces I am free to start, I relax completely. This gives some slack in the barbed wire coils around my limbs. Not enough to slide them through, but giving me definitely more freedom. I contort my unbelievably supple wrists until my long fingers ended with their long black-painted nails reach the place where the two ends of the wire have been twisted together. Unable to look down, panting and hissing to the sky, I have to find them by touch alone. All along, the barbs are grinding cruelly into my flesh.

I begin to untwist the wire, bit by bit. Hours of training have made my fingers as strong as vice-grips and very agile. I keep twisting the wire, painfully arched on top of the sawhorse. Sweat is dribbling along my limbs, dripping from my nipples. My mouth is gaping wide and my tongue slightly stuck out. I’m grunting as I try to breathe in spite of the rope pressing on my wind pipe. My buttocks are clenched in concentration. A few minutes later, the wires are completely untwisted. I then proceed to uncoil them until they get loose enough to let me slide my narrow wrists and hands out of their cruel embrace.

Now my forearms are free to move. I flex them and reach with my fingers to my biceps, coiled with barbed wire. I try reaching the wire with my fingers on each side but I can barely brush them with the tip of my black nails. I then cross my arms and pull on the wire. Thanks to the slack I’ve got in the upper coils, I can reach the wire of each arm with the opposite hand. I find the twisted wire and begin to untwist it as I did before. In a few minutes, my arms are completely free.

I immediately reach for the throat rope. I pull on them, making it circle around until I bring the knot where my fingers can untie it. Then it is a matter of seconds until I can again breathe freely. I can also look wherever I want and look at my nailed breast.

At first, I try to pull on the nail head to extract them from the wood. But this causes so much pain in my breasts as I yank on them that I can’t continue. I have to try something else I grab one of the coils of barbed wire and uncoil it completely. I then slides some of the barbs to get a long enough length of harmless wire. Pressing on the side of my right breast, moaning from the pain, with my fingers trembling from the pain, I twist one end of the wire under the nail head, between it and the breast flesh. I make sure it is twisted very tightly. Then I make a double loop with the other end of the wire, which I grab with my right hand. I the use this handle to pull on the nail head with more strength.

The muscles bulge in my arm, sweat pours from under my armpit, my body trembles. My face is grimacing as I can feel every tremor of the nail inside my very flesh. I pull and pull and pull, and suddenly the wood gives way and I pull the nail completely off! I let go a long scream of pain as I feel the steel sliding inside my raw flesh.

I take a few moments to gather the courage to do the same with my left breast, and then I proceed. A few minutes later, my left breast is throbbing in agony too, but is free. I am now able to straighten up and sit on top of the sawhorse. Immediately, I feel the pressure against my crotch increasing as most of my weight is now supported by the narrow plank. The leather thong is hardly a protection. I grimace in pain and reach for the barbed wire coiled around my thighs. I now use the nails as tools to help me untwist the wire ends and free my thighs, all along grunting from the pressure against my sore crotch. From time to time, I let my poor vulva to rest by supporting my weight with my hands. Eventually, my thighs are free.

I then carefully climb down the sawhorse and sit down on the stage. It is now much easier to free my ankles, first the left, then the right. I finally stand up, holding the four strands of wire and the two nails. My limbs are circles with red marks and spots where the barbed wire has cut into my skin. I am free, once again! I bow deeply before lifting my arms in victory, offering a clear view of my still proud naked breasts.