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

Seventh round: The crossbows

While the post is carried away and the implements for the new challenge brought on stage, I take some welcome minutes of rest. I drink almost a gallon of water as my mouth and throat are so parched. I have lost a lot of sweat during the last challenges.

A sheet of plywood is brought out and I lay your naked body spread eagle on the board. I use U bolts to tightly bolt your wrists and ankles making sure your body is well spread. Then a larger bolt is brought out and your neck and waist is bolted down. Then two more for your thighs.

I am spread-eagled against the plywood, my limbs stretched wide open. The cameras are zooming on my crotch, whose outer labia are pulled open and inner ones slightly gaping. The U-bolts are cold against my sweaty skin.

Then the board is set so you are upright. I set up a stand with 5 crossbows all aimed at your torso. Tied to each trigger is a string at the end of the first two strings is a clamp and I attach them to both of your earlobes.

I gasp as they crush my ears tight. Their springs are very strong and there is no hope they will slip from my skin. Understanding what is going to happen, my mind already begins to churn to find a way out.

The next three have a safety pin attached to them, I take the first and pierce it through your right nipple and latch the pin then do the same to your left. For the 5th I tease your clit then push the needle through it and latch the pin to it as well.

I yelp twice as the safety pins are pierced through my tender nipples. This is getting very serious. But when you pierce my very clitoris, I cannot suppress a loud howl of agony as my most sensitive spot is wounded. I look down at my body and at the three large safety pins hanging from beads of throbbing flesh. The problem with these pins is that no amount of pulling will dislodge them. They will either rip out of my flesh or stay in place. I gulp nervously. And then, as you begin to tighten the lines, I expel all the air I have in my lungs.

Now stay very still I tell you as I make sure the strings are tight then turn off the safeties to the cross bows. I place a sixth on the stand and aim it then walk the string to you and give it a very slight tug, the bolt shoots from the crossbow and embeds itself into the board directly between your legs.

I am now spread-eagled vertically, facing five crossbows aimed at my chest, naked, barely able to move. As I fill my lungs again, I notice, looking down my cheeks, that my trick as allowed the nipples lines to get looser. At least I can breathe freely. But my clitoris is pulled out of its protective sheath of flesh by the pin transfixing it.

I am in a very difficult position. I do not dare to move too much. I do not even dare to look at my situation. Moving my head could trigger the crossbows connected to my earlobes. I have looked at my situation before the lines were tightened and now I have to work from memory alone. I can feel the U-bolts pressing into my flesh and bones, squeezing them against the plywood. I am spread, half hanging by my wrists and half sitting on the thigh bolts. I contort my feet, feeling around. My big toes are hardly brushing against the floor if I stretch them down.

I make some attempts at pulling on the bolts but they are strongly affixed to the board, probably held by nuts screwed on the back side of the sheet. This time, I feel stuck. The spotlights are focused on my plight, making me sweat like a fountain. I wish I would have drunk more. As I reflect about my situation, I begin to wonder whether I am going to die from thirst or from the crossbows bolts. Sweat is dribbling down my stretched limbs, down my spine. I can feel the plywood sheet drinking my sweat against my back. And then a little spark of hope lightens in my mind. It is humiliating, but this is the only alternative to death...

Much to its amusement, the public realises suddenly that urine is trickling from my crotch. Immediately, and to my shame, a camera zoom upon it and follow the rivulet of yellow liquid as it dribble down my legs. I concentrate on my crotch, as do the camera, and I let ooze a trickle of urine. Not strong enough to stream forward, but enough to dribble along my legs. I let it flow and flow. The crowd believes I am finally loosing my pride, but to me, this flow of urine is my last hope, my ultimate weapon, my last way out of this predicament. I can feel the warm liquid trickling along my thighs, then down my calves before dripping on the floor from my toes. But most of the urine does not get so far as it gets trapped within the entangled fibbers of the plywood. I can imagine the strong liquid entering the layers of wooden pulp, dissolving the glue holding them together. And I keep oozing urine to feed the process.

Once my bladder is empty I investigate what I have done. I twist my feet around, I clench my thighs. I proceed gently, as I do not want to pull on the clitoris trigger. And yes! I can feel that the plywood has loosened around the U-bolts. I can now shake the metal in its sheath. Very carefully, I begin to twist and move my ankles, see-sawing the screw ends of the U-bolt through their holes. After some time, I begin to feel sawdust on my heels, indicating that I am doing some progress. I continue my moves, which get wider and wider as the U-bolts get looser. All the time my mind remains focused on the menacing crossbows aimed at me. The very pain I feel in my earlobes, nipples and clitoris is reminding me not to move too much. Had they been painless, I would probably already have been killed 100 times.

At some point I feel I have gained enough slack to squeeze my feet out of the bolts. Very slowly and carefully, I pull up my feet and manage eventually to free my feet. The first step to my freedom is behind me, but the most dangerous is still to come.

I explore the extent of my freedom. My legs are free from the middle of my thighs down. I can now put my feet flat on the wooden stage and move them around. I move them around, testing how far I can move them. I am sweating profusely and rivulets of perspiration are trickling down my body. The move I am going to do will be very dangerous. It might mean the end of my life and I hesitate to do it, weighing my chances. I keep fidgeting with my feet and toes against the floor.

Finally I let it burst. Bracing my feet firmly against the floor, I let out a wild scream while kicking the stage powerfully. The whole board jerks sideward. The lines pull cruelly on my nipples and clitoris. I feel them stretched forward and then I head five lethal clicks. I clench my eyes tight. The board resounds with five, almost simultaneous thuds. A sharp pain in my belly and I howl in agony and despair. I hear the crowd cheering madly.

Slowly I open my eyes and look down at my stretched body. Four crossbow bolts are deeply planted in the board, next to my chest. The fifth is imbedded in my waist, a few millimetres from my side. The wound is painful but innocuous. I let out a deep sigh. I made it!

Still my situation is far from enviable. I am still pinned to the plywood sheet by six U-bolts. Moreover, my nipples and clitoris are now stretched wide out towards the now disarmed crossbows. They are throbbing from the agony and send new urgent messages of pain whenever I move.

After a few instants to recover from the nervous shock, I resume my escape. I lift my right foot and contort it until I manage to push the rod of the test bolt still lodged between my thighs between my big and second toe. I have long trained myself to work with my feet and they are almost as strong and deft as regular hands. Grasping the bolt with my toe, I gently pull it off the board.

Armed with this new device, I set myself to scrape at the plywood around the U-bolt holding my left thigh. The wood, imbibed with my urine, is soft and weak. Digging into it with the sharp bolt head is relatively easy. After some time, I have enlarged the holes enough so that I can extract the U-bolt from the board. It falls on the floor, clanging. I smile weakly as I let my right leg and foot to rest a moment. My foot is cramped by this precision work. My body is bathed with my own sweat and my clitoris and nipples are like in fire. But I am now far closer to freedom.

I can now stand on both feet, which releases the weight my wrists were supporting. I am breathing freely now, which brings new energy to my muscles. I grab the crossbow bolt with my left foot and turn to free my right thigh in the same way I did with my left. Thirty minutes later, both my legs are completely free.

After a bit of rest, I curl up my body. My abs are clenched tight, forming like a bar of steel under my belly. I reach with my left foot to the bolt wounding my side and I pull it off with a gasp and scream. This one will stop hurting me at least, even if my nipples and clit keep torturing me and forcing me to moan and grunt continuously.

Now, I fold my right leg entirely up my body, reaching with my foot towards my right hand. My toes are clenched around the head of the crossbow bolt. I seize the bolt with the tip of my fingers before letting my leg down again. I’m holding the bolt in my right hand now and I begin to dig into the wood around my wrist. In 15 minutes I have dug holes wide enough to free my right wrist.

My first task is to unhook the pins pierced through my nipples and clitoris, and then to release the clamps on my earlobes. With the atrocious pain gone, I can work more freely. Digging out the U-bolt of my left wrist is done very fast. Then follows the one around my neck, and finally the waist bolt clangs on the stage floor as well.

Lifting my arms in victory, I smile to the cheering audience and bow deep. Once again, the Queen of Escape has proved her skills.