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

Eighth round: guillotine

A leather single sleeve arm binder is brought out on stage as well as a pair of steel mittens. They are basically mittens made of steel. They are rather flat allowing your hand to slide in and there is a place for the thumb. You can't move your fingers much in the mittens. I put the mittens on your hands and lock them on, then slide the leather arm-binder over your hands and arms pulling it tight so that your shoulder blades are almost touching. This causes your breasts to be pushed out. A guillotine is brought out with two holes instead of one where your head would be. I tell you to kneel in front of the guillotine and pull your breasts into the holes. I bring out a skewer and push it through the side of your breast as close to the wooden stock as I can then through the other breast using the skewer to lock you in place. I attach a chain to the centre of the skewer running up to the release of the guillotine and then down to your wrists. Now when I turn off the safety, any movement will release the blade.

Then a wooden stock is brought out and padlocked to your thighs forcing you to spread them wide. Two more skewers are brought out and forced through the sides of the stock and through your thighs helping to lock them on. Another set is locked around your ankles in the same way. And a strap is fastened around your back to hold you to the guillotine.

I hold a key in front of you, "now I know you like to be given at least a little chance so open your mouth". When your mouth is opened I place the key in your mouth then seal you mouth with a large ball gag with the straps locked behind your head. “Now here is the deal: if that blade is released, it will release the ball-gag, letting you get the key to your arm-binder, cuffs and padlocks”.

I turn off the safety. “OK, now go!”

For some time I remain under the shock. Pain is pulsating from all directions and I do not even dare to move. The worst pain is coming from my breasts. The skewer is going through the glands and is causing excruciating agony. The trigger line connected to it between my breasts is pulling them up slightly; ready to snap free if the skewer were removed. But there is more. The holes through the wooden panel of the guillotine are too small for my breasts and they are thus strangled at the base. Already, blood is getting trapped inside them and they are swelling, getting purple and taut. My nipples are standing erect, hard as pebbles.

My knees and shins too are aching from resting on the wooden stage, with piercing pain flashing from my skewered ankles and thighs whenever I dare to shift my weight a little. I do not dare to move my arms, in spite of the cramps slowly building into them, caused by the cruel tightness of the arm-binder. Sweat is rolling down my whole body, forming glistening rivulets. It pools into my steel mittens.

I am panting, my nostrils flaring widely. I can feel the key to my freedom resting on my tongue, squeezed by the large gag which is also just failing to dislocate my jaws. My first attempt has been to push it with my tongue and try to expel it from the corner of my mouth, but the gag is so thick that I can hardly move my tongue at all. Only a thin thread of saliva is able to drool out of my stretched lips. I have considered swallowing the key and wait for it to be processed through my body. But how I would recover it with my mittens, I have no idea.

As I keep thinking hard under the hot spotlights, the pain keeps growing and my breasts swelling. Freedom seems to pass through the loss of my womanhood, of those breasts which have made me proud and earned me so much success. Without them, would I ever gather the crowds for something else than a freak show? “Come and see Aurélie, the breastless girl!” This is not possible! There must be another way ! And I keep churning my brains around this problem.

Finally, in my pain-raked mind appears a faint sparkle of hope. This will be a dangerous bet. An all-or-nothing gamble. Well, a little-or-nothing gamble, actually. But I am so endeared with my breasts that I am willing to take that risk to save them. I carefully look at the board holding my breasts. It has a groove in it allowing the blade to fall through and cut my breasts. I lower my head and press the middle of the ball gag against the groove. I then turn my head as far as I can to the right side. I have trained my neck to be very supple and I can turn it very far, with my chin past my shoulder; at least past the position my shoulder would occupy were it not cruelly pulled backwards by the arm-binder. From the corner of my right eye, I can see the ominous blade hanging over my head. I can feel the wood and the groove against the back of my left ear. I force my head a little more, feeling a dull ache in my neck muscles and vertebras. I wonder how it would feel to have them cut by the heavy guillotine’s blade.

I am sweating profusely and trembling a little. I make a few adjustments to my position, straining my neck a little more. I take a deep breath and I pull on my arms. I hear the click as the line triggers the mechanism. I see the blade sliding down its rails, accelerating towards my head. I hear another click as the radio-controlled gag strap lock behind my neck is released. I feel a slight relief in my jaws as the gag ceases to press so hard into my back teeth. The blade is falling fast towards me. My eyes are wide open in sheer terror and I let out a loud scream. A stream of urine splashes between my spread knees.

With a loud thud and a painful shock, the blade crashes onto the side of my ball gag. It cuts the rubber in two and is stopped dead by the steel rod passing trough it, to which the straps are linked. The momentum of the blade pushes the ball deeper than it has ever been, spreading my jaws into a bone-breaking spread. In my reflection in the polished steel of the blade, I can look into my terror-filled eyes. The blade is oblique, angling down along the right side of my face, as I had calculated it would do. I gag, I feel bile coming up my throat, fill the back of my mouth, up my nose before being forced down my oesophagus. I cough, my eyes filled with tears and my mouth burning. My body is trembling like a leaf, but I know I am alive. I have escaped the terrible fate that had been armed against my breasts.

I push with my tongue, with my teeth, until I manage to push the ball gag and the blade deeply embedded into it out of my mouth. The ball is resting against my cheek now. It is covered with my saliva, which help me to make it slide on my skin as I turn my head until I am again facing the floor and my swollen, purple, taut breasts. I keep the key securely hidden in my cheek. I can feel the ball gag resting in the crook at the junction of my skull with my neck.

I begin to contort my arms. I twist my upper body, lifting my left shoulder, until the strap of the arm-binder is against the blade. I saw a couple of times. The blade is very sharp and the strap immediately snaps open. This strap was preventing the arm binder from sliding down my arms. It is now holding only by its pressure against my skin. It is not going to slide without help though.

I know pull my head backwards, feeling the ball gag sliding through my hair up the back of my skull. At some point, it begins to slide down the top of my head, until I let it drop smoothly on the groove, jammed by the ball gag and its steel core. My breasts and my neck are safe now as I am kneeling straight against the guillotine. There is a thundering applause from the public as I smile to them, the key glistening between my flashing teeth.

I begin to contort my arms. I am able to dislocate my shoulder joint at will, which allows me a lot of slack in the upper part of the arm-binder. With all the sweat gathered around my arms, every contortion makes the sleeve to slide down a little. This is hard and painful work though. Every half inch is earned at the price of a lot of pulling and twisting in my strangled and skewered breasts. I am moaning continuously. The muscles of my arms are clenching and unclenching alternately in a well-trained pattern, forcing the sleeve downward. After about one 30 minutes of this gymnastic, the upper hem of the sleeve has reached my elbows. Everything gets easier from that point. A couple of twists and clenches and the sleeves is gather around my wrists. I lift my arms on my left side and bring the arm-binder lace against the guillotine’s blade. In a matter of seconds the lace is cut in several pieces. It is then a child’s play to break the arm-binder apart, freeing my arms.

I lift my steel mittens in the air in a sign of victory but I immediately lower them, grimacing from the pain coming from my strangled breasts. I gulp hard and take a little rest. Then I stretch my lips, showing the key firmly protruding from between my teeth. I bring my right wrist against my mouth and fumble a little bit, until the key enters the hole. I twist my hand, unlocking the shackle at the base of the mitten. I shake my hand and the mitten falls on the stage. My right hand is free!

The rest comes rapidly. With my free hand, I unlock my left mitten and then the padlocks locking the two sets of stocks. Removing the skewers proves terribly painful although technically not difficult. I start with the breasts, clenching my eyes shut while pulling the long skewer as fast as I can. I then undo the leather strap and force my swollen breasts to be squeezed through the holes once again. I can now sit on my butt and unskewer my thighs and then my ankles.

I take a deep breath and lift myself up, using the guillotine post as a support. I then lift my arms in victory and bow to the cheering crowd.