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

Sixth round: the post

I help your body up to your feet then I trace the hole in your left breast with my finger. "she’s very impressive I tell the crowd. They agree with loud cheers. I look your body over admiring the nail holes and wire marks. Then I loop my thumbs around the straps of your thong and start sliding it down your legs. The crowd goes wild at the sight of your bare pussy. I throw the thong into the crowd.

I blush as I realise I am now stark naked in front of the cheering audience. Out of shyness, I cross my hands in front of my nicely-trimmed pussy.

Then a post it brought out on stage and I push you against it with your back to the post. A metal spreader bar is brought out and your wrists are locked into it so that your arms are spread and the bar is behind the post. I place a padlock on both shackle and put the key in my pocket. The rough bark of the wood scrapes your back. I take a length of barbed wire and farther secure your wrists to the metal bar both above and below the shackles.

I grunt as the barbs are digging into my already sore wrists. With my hands so wide apart and the post pressing against my spine, my chest is thrust forward and my proud, pierced breasts are jutting out invitingly. I feel completely helpless already, offered to the sight of the eager crowd.

Another spreader bar, four feet long, is brought our and I lock your ankles to it in the same manner.

My feet are now very wide apart, forcing my thigh open, providing an unobstructed view at my trimmed crotch. As the bar is behind the post too, my legs are pulled backwards slightly, forcing my crotch forwards. My nether lips are pulled slightly apart. The cameras are zooming of my lower belly, enticing enthusiastic cheers from the crowd.

I look at your breasts and select another length of barbed wire and wrap it tightly around each of your breasts squeezing them painfully. A length of rope is looped through a ring at the top of the post and I tie it to the wire between your breasts. Two stage hands hoist your body off your feet by your breasts and tie off the end of the rope.

I moan in utter agony as the wire is wrapped coil after coil around my poor breasts. As the wire is tightening around their bases, shoving its cruel barbs into my tender skin, my breasts begin to bulge forwards, more and more flesh and blood being pushed into the two taut balls of reddening skin. The pain increases fast and they begin to throb in incredible pain. I grimace as I see my breasts being changed into mushrooms filled with boiling woe. As the rope begins to pull them upwards, the pain doubles. I get on my toes, trying to ease the pain, but the pull keeps going. My breasts are pulled higher and higher as I scream and shake my head. My body is lifted of the floor; my toes are stretching downwards, trying to reach the floor. Each yank on the ropes extracts a groan of pain from my throat. When the hoisting is over, my big toes are hovering six inches above the floor.

I grab another length of barbed wire and loop it around your right ankle then loop the other end to your wrist and do the same to your other ankle, pulling your feet higher, until they are just one foot from your hands.

“Ooowwww, pleaaaaase! Stop that!!!” I beg you, my body arched against the post, my breasts and pussy pushed forwards.

I look at your exposed and vulnerable pussy and bring out a 4-foot steel wide and blunt spike. I insert the tip into your pussy and attach it to the post. Your body is now bound to the post so that it can slide up and down it with just the rope tied to your breast wires holding you up and keeping you from being impaled. The more you jerk around the more the wire and barbs cut into the rope. Finally, I pierce your clit and hook the padlock key to it.

I scream out loud as my clitoris is pierced and a ring pushed through the fresh wound. Hanging by my breasts, the pain is incredible. I have difficulty to focus my mind on the task I have to accomplish. For long minutes I’m just hanging against the rough wooden post, my bulging breasts stretched upwards, trembling, trying to get used to the horrible agony. It feels like my breasts are going to be torn from my chest and I do not dare to move, scared to hasten the process. This would mean my death as I would be slowly impaled on the blunt spike, unable to stop it to penetrate deeper and deeper through my bowels. Breathing is difficult too as each move of my chest sends waves of pain through my breasts.

But slowly my breasts become drown into the pain which seems to recedes. At least I can direct my mind away from just coping with the throbbing. I can feel the key dangling from my aching clitoris. For the moment, it is excruciatingly out of reach. After some hard thinking, I decide for a strategy.

First, I arch my back some more, lifting my buttocks higher against the splintered post, pushing my right foot next to my right hand. My taut belly is pushed even farther forwards. My fingers begin to explore the barbed wire there and find one of the barbs. My fingers begin to move very fast, moving my black nails against the barb. After about two minutes, ma fingers pull out a short piece of wire. But by now, my back is so tired I cannot stand like that any longer.

With a sigh of relief, I let my butt slide down along the post and hang like that recovering some strength, grimacing in pain. Rivulets of sweat are rolling down my strained body and dripping on the floor from my knees. Every breath, however shallow, is accompanied by a strong pain in my tortured breasts.

After a few minutes of rest, I arch my back again, bringing my feet against my hands. My left hand begins the same operation as did my right hand before. Simultaneously, I begin to pick the right padlock with the piece of wire. My muscles are trembling in the process. I have to keep my back arched painfully hard and this is a very strenuous task. But finally, I both get a piece of wire in my left hand and my right foot is freed from the shackle. It is still coiled with wire though and just hangs from my hand.

I let myself slide down once again to rest. And then I hoist myself again and free my left foot from the shackle. The spreader bar falls on the ground, leaving my feet only retained by the barbed wire connecting them to my wrists. Untwisting it was a slow and painful process, but a few minutes later I had freed my feet completely. This changed my situation completely. As I had been hoisted above the floor with my legs wide apart, now that I was able to get them together, I was able to stand up on my toes and to step off the impaling spike. I was not hanging by my breasts anymore, which provided a great relief to my throbbing chest.

My arms were still shackled to the end of a spreader, set behind the post. I twisted my arms so as to bring the spreader almost parallel to the post. I the contorted my body until I was able to reach the key hooked to my clitoris with my fingers. Once I had done it, it was easy to unlock my wrists and free my arms completely. Uncoiling the barbed wire from my breasts was a simple, though very painful task.

Again I was free and could bow to the crowd, victoriously.