Zip-ties are dangerous

by Aurélie Catena (Aurelie.Catena@gmail)

[death, strangulation, bondage]

Ophélie was trembling with excitement when she returned home. She had just gone to the hardware store and bought a pack of long cable ties and she was urging to try them. For the whole time she had fantasised about what she would do with them and now at last it was time to make it happen. Of course, as always, her fantasies were much harder than what was reasonable to do but still she liked to push her limits.

After fixing herself a quick dinner, she went back to her room. There she got naked and pulled her bondage box from the place where she kept it hidden in the back of her closet. She had a lot of bondage-related toys but tonight she had decided that zip-ties would be the theme. This was new to her. She had experienced ropes, chains, straps, cuffs… but never plastic ties and that made it all the more exciting.

Always the prudent girl, she wanted to experiment a little bit with them before going for the full predicament. So she tied her legs together, at the ankles, knees and thighs with the zip ties and pulled as much as she could. The plastic strips dug in her skin in a deliciously painful way. She squirmed a bit and felt how painful it was just to move her legs. That was perfect.

Then she wanted to experiment with the escape process. She had placed scissors next to her and cut through all the ties very easily. She had not kept them for more than a couple of minutes but they had already left some nice pink marks in her pale skin. The next test was to place her wrists inside a loop of plastic and tighten it by pulling on the protruding end. It was a little difficult but with some practice she was able to get a reasonably tight binding. All that remained was to try and cut herself free with the scissors. To make things more difficult, she forced herself to do it while keeping her eyes closed. Ophélie's hands were deft and supple and she had no difficulty manipulating the scissors, put one blade in between her wrists and then snap the tie off.

After having successfully repeated the test with her hands behind her back she was now ready for the scene she had imagined.

***

She began by placing a mirror in front of the place she was going to play as she loved to look at her own struggles. She had a lean body, a little on the athletic side. Her pretty face was framed by an abundant and somewhat unruly cascade of curly red hair. Her apple-sized breasts tended to droop too much for her taste but that was something she knew how to solve. Satisfied by the image she saw in the mirror she moved the next part of the preparation.

The scissors would be her escape device. She tied a three-metre-long string to one of the handle and put them down at the opposite side of the room, unrolling the life-line to where she would soon lie helpless. Zipties would be the theme and the predicament would be strangling, she had decided, and it was now time to start the scene.

She began by placing three such plastic ties around her neck. She set them loose enough that they would not strangle her for now, but tight enough that they stayed in place along her neck, about two centimetres apart. A shorter zip tie connected them behind her, under her thick mane.

She then turned to grant herself new clothes… of the painful sort. She began by circling the base of her breasts with one zip tie each, making sure to tighten them to the maximum. She place two more ties forward of the first, until her boobs were firm and taut as she liked them, standing at the end of a kind of stem severely constricted by the plastic strips. She then adorned her nipples with a pair of clover-clamps connected together by a short chain, wincing and hissing as the delicate buds of sensitive flesh got flattened. The next item was a string made out of zip ties. Two large ones were used to cinch her slender waist while another pair connected its front and back, passing in between her nether lips. This one she tightened until they formed a Y that was dug deep valleys in the flesh of her hips and cut through her sex in a way that made her grimace from the pain. She placed a small loop of plastic under the back part of the crotch tie to be used later.

Then she went down, lying on her belly on the wooden planking of the floor. She now had to move carefully because the plastic string tended to saw into her frail skin at the least movement. Similarly, her bloated boobs had gotten very sensitive and merely touching the floor with them was disagreeable. She backed up with her lower legs upright until her knees reached the heater. Her apartment dated to the first half of the 20th century and the device was of the old model, made of a series of decorated and painted pipes. She parted her thighs at 90° and pressed her shins against the pipes, nesting them each between two of them. The next part required a bit of contortion from her part as she tied her lower legs to the heater with several zip ties. At first she only placed one in the crook of her knees and another at the ankles but the pressure made her quite excited and she added five more along each calve, and yet one more to hold her big toes. Once she was done, her legs were completely merged with the heater pipes, her flesh bulging in between the cruelly tight plastic ties. Even her feet were totally immobilised.

By now she was almost ready. She had to move fast now because the pain building in her strangled breasts was making them throb and she did not know how much longer she would have the courage to render herself helpless. Hastily she strapped a big red rubber ball gag into her mouth, spreading her jaws very wide and silencing herself. Her hands were trembling by now. She had prepared a kind of daisy chain of four zip ties and had connected one end to the top of the heater. She now reached behind her neck and attached the opposite end to the loop she had placed there. She tightened some of the zip ties until she could no longer let her head rest on the floor.

In a last-minute inspiration, she passed the life-line to her scissors above the nipple chain before tying it to her left wrist. This ensured that she could always reach for it and tug the scissors although she expected the rubbing of the line on the nipple chain to cause much torment. The perspective of suffering filled her with lust. She knew that the next 30 minutes would be pure torture. She would feel a lot of pain and later, thinking about it, she would masturbate to one of those extra-atmospheric orgasms she could only reach in such pervert ways.

Only one tie needed to be done to make her helpless but first she wanted to be sure she would suffer. She went over all the zip ties she had placed and pulled on the free end until she could not get another click out of the tiny plastic ratchets. Her breasts got tauter, the flesh of her legs bulged some more and her pussy cringed with more pain as the many zip ties cut deeper into her skin. She even shortened the zip-tie chain that connected her neck to the heater. She now had to keep her head as far back as it would go to prevent pressure on her throat. That would make for an aching position but she could always get some relief by lifting her torso off the floor. She made tentative pull on the life-line, and the scissors moved. Everything was ready.

Ophélie was sweating already, filled with the excitement of her ordeal. She reached to the small of her back and threaded the last cable-tie through the one she had placed intertwined with ber plastic thong. She pushed her wrists through the loose loop and tightened it, each small click bringing her closer to helplessness. It was a fantastic feeling, one she relished by not going too fast. She was not even sure how tight it had to be to get her stuck.

When she felt it was tight enough, she made an attempt at squeezing her hand out. She felt the hard, unyielding plastic dig into her skin but she had the impression that, given enough strength, she could force it out. That would not do. She had to make sure that the only way out was by means of the scissors. She reached with her fingers, got hold of the free end of the zip strap and yanked hard on it, to make sure she could not chicken out. She heard the clicks but she did not feel the wrist tie tighten. Instead, it was the strangling chain that got shortened by a few more centimetres. It made the triplet of ties running over the front of her throat dig deeper and begin to impair her breathing. Keeping her head as far back as she could was no longer enough to keep her windpipe free.

This brought a rush of fear to her heart, but also a rush of excitement to her loins. It was as though an invisible hand had pulled on her choke. She considered her situation for a moment. She could still take full breaths by lifting her torso, so she was in no risk of death. She might try to pull a hand free, get the scissors and cut herself free immediately but what an anticlimax that would be. After a careful reflexion, she decided she was in no danger at all. Thus, she even pulled some more on the strangling zip-chain so that she would really have to work to breathe. Then she found the correct tie and tightened her wrists totally, sealing her fate.

***

By now she could no longer just relax and wait. If she did so, her throat would press against the three plastic straps, making them dig into her skin and cutting her airflow to 10% of its normal debit. All she had to do was to pull on her back muscles and bend her neck backward to relieve the pressure. She found that as soon as her breasts went off the floor she could breathe normally.

She quickly found that she could not hold this awkward position for more than 30 seconds. Then her back began to ache and she had to relax it, at the cost of cutting off her breathing. This was deliciously exciting and anguishing and Ophélie indulged herself into the feeling for a few cycles, imagining that she was being tortured, asked to give the names of fellow agents. This was a vivid fantasy of hers and she enjoyed it for a moment.

After about 10 minutes her back began to burn and she felt that she could no longer remain upright quite as long as she initially did. Her legs too were aching from the cruel way she had tightened their restraints. Prudent as ever, she judged that it was time to get her scissors ready. She could always delay her release if she found that she could endure her predicament for some more time.

Her right hand easily found the life-line where she had tied it to her left wrist and she began to pull on it, dragging the scissors toward her. The task would have been easy enough, albeit somewhat boring, except that the string passed above the clover-clamp chain in a way that tugged on them with each pull. With such devices, any tug was immediately transformed into a pinch. She tried to pull more smoothly, or quicker, but there was no way to avoid it. After a few tugs her nipples, which had grown desensitized to the dull pressure, were throbbing with agony and she yelped into her gag with every yank. It was as though she was punished for trying to get the scissors.

Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred as she followed the slow progress of the tools on the floor. She was now hesitating to pull on the life-line because of the sharp pain it caused to her sore nipples. She slowed the pace, allowing herself a couple of breaths in between tugs to let her martyred breasts recover. Meanwhile, her backache was evolving fast into a nightmare. She found it increasingly difficult to lift her torso and thus was resting part of her weight on the strangling collar she had locked around her neck. She did not put all her weight on it, so that she was still able to breathe but her her windpipe was restricted and her respiration was hissing in way that evocated her sufferings.

The fear of strangulation helped her to bear the torture of her nipples and she kept pulling on the life-line despite the pain it caused her. That pain was increasing too, partly because he delicate beads of flesh were getting very sore from the harsh treatment they were subjected to, but also because as the scissors came closer, the angle of the line turned more vertical and the yanks on the nipple chain got harder. She had to brace herself before each tug and could not prevent herself from screaming while she did it. The big gag that caused her jaws to cramp and ache blocked most of her screams though.

At last the scissors reached her breasts. They were now half lifted off the floor, pulling constantly on Ophélie's throbbing and stretched nipples. Tears were now running down her cheeks in torrents. She no longer relished her situation. She wanted to get free really bad now. Her lungs longed for a full breath as they were constantly prevented to fill normally by the strangling zip-ties.

Collecting her courage, she pulled hard on the line to get the scissors over the nipple chain. In a few instant she would be able to touch them, to cut her hands free and then to release her throat. That last pull was the worst of all. With her head bent backwards she could not see the scissors now but she felt the terrible pinching and stretching. She kept pulling. She had to get the scissors over the chain. She heard the metal tool touch the chain, coiling more line in her moist palm she yanked harder, stretching her nipples some more. And then some more. Her breasts were elongated into cones, her areolae turned pale, her nipples were flattened and stretched to an incredible length. Ophélie howled in agony. Unseen by her, the scissors had opened and the chain was stuck in their fulcrum, preventing them to pass the obstacle. Then she had to let go. The pain was too much. She dropped the line and heard the scissors fall on the floor.

Ophélie's throat had been pressing against the zip-ties the whole time, cutting most of her air supply. By now she was out of breath and needed oxygen. Arching her back, she gave herself some slack. The plastic ties had left deep red lines in her skin. She took in as deep a breath as she could but it came in a hiss, leaving her lungs craving for more. Her face grimacing and covered with sweat she forced her aching back to keep her arched to take a few more lungful.

Instinctively her hands reached backward to grab the pipes of the heater, only to be yanked to a stop by the tie connecting her wrists to her crotch binding, eliciting a new gasp of pain as the thin plastic strip bit hard into the softness of her slit. The pain made her drop and her neck was once again pressured by the choking bondage.

For the first time she began to really feel panic. In a few seconds she had realised that she could not get the scissors and that she could keep the breathing position for long. Together that made for a deadly mix. Her heart began to pound faster in her chest. Again she yanked on the life-line, with as little success as earlier. She reached forward, her fingers grasping at thin air as they were once again stopped by her plastic thong. She let out a long, hoarse, muffled moan of frustration and anguish.

She arched her back again to get oxygen to her panicked brains and then tried again to free the scissors. She repeated the cycle several times, each one more frantically, more violently. As the spectre of an ignominious, stupid death grew taller in her mind, she ignored the agony she was causing to her nipples. The clover clamps stretched and flattened them in a most cruel way but they never let go. They were designed like that: the harder you pull on them, the tighter they grip their prey.

Eventually she stopped trying. Her nipples were bleeding and throbbing like hell and yet she could feel that she had made no progress. She now felt that all her efforts had only served to tire her, to make her waste oxygen and energy. She now had to try something else. First of all, she had to allow herself to get several full breaths because during all her struggles she had remained on the verge of asphyxia most of the time.

She dropped the life-line, relaxed her arms and contracted her muscles to lift her torso and free her windpipe. She was shocked to realise how hard it was now. Her back was aching like never before, its muscles knotted with vicious cramps. She managed to remain up for a few seconds, taking two half breaths through an aching throat and then she could hold it no longer. With utter terror she understood how low she had already sunk when her sore throat fell back against the three unyielding zip ties.

The narrow bands of plastic were now digging deep in her flesh, making it bulge to the point of nearly engulfing them. She tried to calm herself, to force herself to breathe slowly. Indeed, she could do it. A thin, hissing trickle of air managed to get in and out of her constricted windpipe. Alas, it took a lot of effort to push that air through and it was a losing battle against asphyxia, she soon realised. Her urging for fresh oxygen kept increasing, her lungs began to burn. There was no way out: to survive she had to lift her weight off her throat.

Her face had turned red and puffy, her eyes were reduced to slits and her vision was darkening. She forced her back to arch again and felt the implacable pressure lessen on her constricted throat. Still it was as though her windpipe did not regained its normal shape immediately. The pressure was not entirely gone anyway but still it felt as though her own body was now turning against her. Her stretched lips grimaced around the big red ball as she bit hard in it while her nostrils flared and her ribs tried to expand and force air to enter her craving lungs.

It felt so good to breathe! The feeling was incredible. The oxygen seemed to go straight to her brains to clear the smog out of it. Alas, it was short-lived. Her lungs were still half filled with toxic carbon dioxide when her muscles abandoned her and she landed back on the zip ties. She tried turning her head to the side, hoping to save her trachea from the crushing pressure. That failed. The three loops of plastic pressed her neck from all directions.

Still she badly needed to breathe. A first attempt at arching her back failed miserably. In dire despair she grabbed her firm buttock with her trembling fingers and was able to lift the dead weight of her torso. Her arms were rested and she was able to keep that position for a longer time. Enough to recover most of her wits. For a long moment her fingers remained locked into her buttocks, clawing them, as though grappled to save her life.

She breathed almost normally, her strangled breasts heaving up and down, the nipple chain swaying gently between them. She did not dare to try anything else, except for a few attempts at screaming for help that were totally muffled by the impossibly big gag that filled her mouth. No help was expected from that. Nobody was expected to come either. Her friends never came without calling her first and her family would only be alarmed after a couple of weeks. Weeks! She would be dead in a couple of days at best.

Night came and still her life was hanging to the strength in her arms. She flexed them now and then,trying to rest one, then the other. At first she had been drooling profusely because of the gag but now her mouth was dry and her lips were parched. She was still sweating profusely though. After a long resistance, her bladder had emptied and she was now bathing in her urine. The stench was terrible but she no longer noticed it. Her breasts had taken a dark purple colour. They were drooping now and the nipple chain brushed on the floor when she filled her lungs. They had stopped throbbing now, after a peak of agony where they had felt as though a heart had been beating in each of them. She could not see them though, her face constantly turned at the ceiling she hardly could see now in the darkness.

During the night the cramps overpowered the muscles of her arms. She had to rest them and that meant supporting the weight of her upper body with her neck. The anguish of strangulation came back. The battle for air started again with its dreadful oscillations between positions she could never sustain for more than a few minutes.

As the sun rose and light came back to her room, Ophélie was hardly able to open her puffy eyes. Her breath had been reduced to a trickle for so many hours. She barely had the stamina to lift herself for a half breath every 30 seconds. It was just enough to keep her alive in a nightmarish condition. Her parched tongue had swollen, making the packing of her mouth even worst. She was completely dehydrated now and semi-comatose, her head pounding with the worst headache she had ever felt. Her sufferings were abominable. She hoped for the death to come faster but still she could not stop herself from trying to breathe one more mouthful of oxygen, even though it prolonged her agony.

How many hours had passed? She had no way to tell. Her eyes were so puffy that she could not see anything. She was raving, half conscious, her mind totally overwhelmed with agony and urge for air. She tried once again to rise for a quick breath. They had gotten so small lately. This time however, her arms refused to function. Her back failed to help her too. Her nostrils flared, her chest expanded, her ribs trying to pierce through her skin. Nothing came in. The slits of her eyes managed to widen a bit as her face grimaced and her blurred vision told her she was in plain light. For long minutes she remained like that, grimacing and grunting, her lungs in fire, unable to do the most basic moves of life… until her heart mercifully stopped to beat.

Zip-ties are dangerous

by Aurélie Catena (Aurelie.Catena@gmail)

[death, strangulation, bondage]

Ophélie was trembling with excitement when she returned home. She had just gone to the hardware store and bought a pack of long cable ties and she was urging to try them. For the whole time she had fantasised about what she would do with them and now at last it was time to make it happen. Of course, as always, her fantasies were much harder than what was reasonable to do but still she liked to push her limits.

After fixing herself a quick dinner, she went back to her room. There she got naked and pulled her bondage box from the place where she kept it hidden in the back of her closet. She had a lot of bondage-related toys but tonight she had decided that zip-ties would be the theme. This was new to her. She had experienced ropes, chains, straps, cuffs… but never plastic ties and that made it all the more exciting.

Always the prudent girl, she wanted to experiment a little bit with them before going for the full predicament. So she tied her legs together, at the ankles, knees and thighs with the zip ties and pulled as much as she could. The plastic strips dug in her skin in a deliciously painful way. She squirmed a bit and felt how painful it was just to move her legs. That was perfect.

Then she wanted to experiment with the escape process. She had placed scissors next to her and cut through all the ties very easily. She had not kept them for more than a couple of minutes but they had already left some nice pink marks in her pale skin. The next test was to place her wrists inside a loop of plastic and tighten it by pulling on the protruding end. It was a little difficult but with some practice she was able to get a reasonably tight binding. All that remained was to try and cut herself free with the scissors. To make things more difficult, she forced herself to do it while keeping her eyes closed. Ophélie's hands were deft and supple and she had no difficulty manipulating the scissors, put one blade in between her wrists and then snap the tie off.

After having successfully repeated the test with her hands behind her back she was now ready for the scene she had imagined.

***

She began by placing a mirror in front of the place she was going to play as she loved to look at her own struggles. She had a lean body, a little on the athletic side. Her pretty face was framed by an abundant and somewhat unruly cascade of curly red hair. Her apple-sized breasts tended to droop too much for her taste but that was something she knew how to solve. Satisfied by the image she saw in the mirror she moved the next part of the preparation.

The scissors would be her escape device. She tied a three-metre-long string to one of the handle and put them down at the opposite side of the room, unrolling the life-line to where she would soon lie helpless. Zipties would be the theme and the predicament would be strangling, she had decided, and it was now time to start the scene.

She began by placing three such plastic ties around her neck. She set them loose enough that they would not strangle her for now, but tight enough that they stayed in place along her neck, about two centimetres apart. A shorter zip tie connected them behind her, under her thick mane.

She then turned to grant herself new clothes… of the painful sort. She began by circling the base of her breasts with one zip tie each, making sure to tighten them to the maximum. She place two more ties forward of the first, until her boobs were firm and taut as she liked them, standing at the end of a kind of stem severely constricted by the plastic strips. She then adorned her nipples with a pair of clover-clamps connected together by a short chain, wincing and hissing as the delicate buds of sensitive flesh got flattened. The next item was a string made out of zip ties. Two large ones were used to cinch her slender waist while another pair connected its front and back, passing in between her nether lips. This one she tightened until they formed a Y that was dug deep valleys in the flesh of her hips and cut through her sex in a way that made her grimace from the pain. She placed a small loop of plastic under the back part of the crotch tie to be used later.

Then she went down, lying on her belly on the wooden planking of the floor. She now had to move carefully because the plastic string tended to saw into her frail skin at the least movement. Similarly, her bloated boobs had gotten very sensitive and merely touching the floor with them was disagreeable. She backed up with her lower legs upright until her knees reached the heater. Her apartment dated to the first half of the 20th century and the device was of the old model, made of a series of decorated and painted pipes. She parted her thighs at 90° and pressed her shins against the pipes, nesting them each between two of them. The next part required a bit of contortion from her part as she tied her lower legs to the heater with several zip ties. At first she only placed one in the crook of her knees and another at the ankles but the pressure made her quite excited and she added five more along each calve, and yet one more to hold her big toes. Once she was done, her legs were completely merged with the heater pipes, her flesh bulging in between the cruelly tight plastic ties. Even her feet were totally immobilised.

By now she was almost ready. She had to move fast now because the pain building in her strangled breasts was making them throb and she did not know how much longer she would have the courage to render herself helpless. Hastily she strapped a big red rubber ball gag into her mouth, spreading her jaws very wide and silencing herself. Her hands were trembling by now. She had prepared a kind of daisy chain of four zip ties and had connected one end to the top of the heater. She now reached behind her neck and attached the opposite end to the loop she had placed there. She tightened some of the zip ties until she could no longer let her head rest on the floor.

In a last-minute inspiration, she passed the life-line to her scissors above the nipple chain before tying it to her left wrist. This ensured that she could always reach for it and tug the scissors although she expected the rubbing of the line on the nipple chain to cause much torment. The perspective of suffering filled her with lust. She knew that the next 30 minutes would be pure torture. She would feel a lot of pain and later, thinking about it, she would masturbate to one of those extra-atmospheric orgasms she could only reach in such pervert ways.

Only one tie needed to be done to make her helpless but first she wanted to be sure she would suffer. She went over all the zip ties she had placed and pulled on the free end until she could not get another click out of the tiny plastic ratchets. Her breasts got tauter, the flesh of her legs bulged some more and her pussy cringed with more pain as the many zip ties cut deeper into her skin. She even shortened the zip-tie chain that connected her neck to the heater. She now had to keep her head as far back as it would go to prevent pressure on her throat. That would make for an aching position but she could always get some relief by lifting her torso off the floor. She made tentative pull on the life-line, and the scissors moved. Everything was ready.

Ophélie was sweating already, filled with the excitement of her ordeal. She reached to the small of her back and threaded the last cable-tie through the one she had placed intertwined with ber plastic thong. She pushed her wrists through the loose loop and tightened it, each small click bringing her closer to helplessness. It was a fantastic feeling, one she relished by not going too fast. She was not even sure how tight it had to be to get her stuck.

When she felt it was tight enough, she made an attempt at squeezing her hand out. She felt the hard, unyielding plastic dig into her skin but she had the impression that, given enough strength, she could force it out. That would not do. She had to make sure that the only way out was by means of the scissors. She reached with her fingers, got hold of the free end of the zip strap and yanked hard on it, to make sure she could not chicken out. She heard the clicks but she did not feel the wrist tie tighten. Instead, it was the strangling chain that got shortened by a few more centimetres. It made the triplet of ties running over the front of her throat dig deeper and begin to impair her breathing. Keeping her head as far back as she could was no longer enough to keep her windpipe free.

This brought a rush of fear to her heart, but also a rush of excitement to her loins. It was as though an invisible hand had pulled on her choke. She considered her situation for a moment. She could still take full breaths by lifting her torso, so she was in no risk of death. She might try to pull a hand free, get the scissors and cut herself free immediately but what an anticlimax that would be. After a careful reflexion, she decided she was in no danger at all. Thus, she even pulled some more on the strangling zip-chain so that she would really have to work to breathe. Then she found the correct tie and tightened her wrists totally, sealing her fate.

***

By now she could no longer just relax and wait. If she did so, her throat would press against the three plastic straps, making them dig into her skin and cutting her airflow to 10% of its normal debit. All she had to do was to pull on her back muscles and bend her neck backward to relieve the pressure. She found that as soon as her breasts went off the floor she could breathe normally.

She quickly found that she could not hold this awkward position for more than 30 seconds. Then her back began to ache and she had to relax it, at the cost of cutting off her breathing. This was deliciously exciting and anguishing and Ophélie indulged herself into the feeling for a few cycles, imagining that she was being tortured, asked to give the names of fellow agents. This was a vivid fantasy of hers and she enjoyed it for a moment.

After about 10 minutes her back began to burn and she felt that she could no longer remain upright quite as long as she initially did. Her legs too were aching from the cruel way she had tightened their restraints. Prudent as ever, she judged that it was time to get her scissors ready. She could always delay her release if she found that she could endure her predicament for some more time.

Her right hand easily found the life-line where she had tied it to her left wrist and she began to pull on it, dragging the scissors toward her. The task would have been easy enough, albeit somewhat boring, except that the string passed above the clover-clamp chain in a way that tugged on them with each pull. With such devices, any tug was immediately transformed into a pinch. She tried to pull more smoothly, or quicker, but there was no way to avoid it. After a few tugs her nipples, which had grown desensitized to the dull pressure, were throbbing with agony and she yelped into her gag with every yank. It was as though she was punished for trying to get the scissors.

Her eyes filled with tears and her vision blurred as she followed the slow progress of the tools on the floor. She was now hesitating to pull on the life-line because of the sharp pain it caused to her sore nipples. She slowed the pace, allowing herself a couple of breaths in between tugs to let her martyred breasts recover. Meanwhile, her backache was evolving fast into a nightmare. She found it increasingly difficult to lift her torso and thus was resting part of her weight on the strangling collar she had locked around her neck. She did not put all her weight on it, so that she was still able to breathe but her her windpipe was restricted and her respiration was hissing in way that evocated her sufferings.

The fear of strangulation helped her to bear the torture of her nipples and she kept pulling on the life-line despite the pain it caused her. That pain was increasing too, partly because he delicate beads of flesh were getting very sore from the harsh treatment they were subjected to, but also because as the scissors came closer, the angle of the line turned more vertical and the yanks on the nipple chain got harder. She had to brace herself before each tug and could not prevent herself from screaming while she did it. The big gag that caused her jaws to cramp and ache blocked most of her screams though.

At last the scissors reached her breasts. They were now half lifted off the floor, pulling constantly on Ophélie's throbbing and stretched nipples. Tears were now running down her cheeks in torrents. She no longer relished her situation. She wanted to get free really bad now. Her lungs longed for a full breath as they were constantly prevented to fill normally by the strangling zip-ties.

Collecting her courage, she pulled hard on the line to get the scissors over the nipple chain. In a few instant she would be able to touch them, to cut her hands free and then to release her throat. That last pull was the worst of all. With her head bent backwards she could not see the scissors now but she felt the terrible pinching and stretching. She kept pulling. She had to get the scissors over the chain. She heard the metal tool touch the chain, coiling more line in her moist palm she yanked harder, stretching her nipples some more. And then some more. Her breasts were elongated into cones, her areolae turned pale, her nipples were flattened and stretched to an incredible length. Ophélie howled in agony. Unseen by her, the scissors had opened and the chain was stuck in their fulcrum, preventing them to pass the obstacle. Then she had to let go. The pain was too much. She dropped the line and heard the scissors fall on the floor.

Ophélie's throat had been pressing against the zip-ties the whole time, cutting most of her air supply. By now she was out of breath and needed oxygen. Arching her back, she gave herself some slack. The plastic ties had left deep red lines in her skin. She took in as deep a breath as she could but it came in a hiss, leaving her lungs craving for more. Her face grimacing and covered with sweat she forced her aching back to keep her arched to take a few more lungful.

Instinctively her hands reached backward to grab the pipes of the heater, only to be yanked to a stop by the tie connecting her wrists to her crotch binding, eliciting a new gasp of pain as the thin plastic strip bit hard into the softness of her slit. The pain made her drop and her neck was once again pressured by the choking bondage.

For the first time she began to really feel panic. In a few seconds she had realised that she could not get the scissors and that she could keep the breathing position for long. Together that made for a deadly mix. Her heart began to pound faster in her chest. Again she yanked on the life-line, with as little success as earlier. She reached forward, her fingers grasping at thin air as they were once again stopped by her plastic thong. She let out a long, hoarse, muffled moan of frustration and anguish.

She arched her back again to get oxygen to her panicked brains and then tried again to free the scissors. She repeated the cycle several times, each one more frantically, more violently. As the spectre of an ignominious, stupid death grew taller in her mind, she ignored the agony she was causing to her nipples. The clover clamps stretched and flattened them in a most cruel way but they never let go. They were designed like that: the harder you pull on them, the tighter they grip their prey.

Eventually she stopped trying. Her nipples were bleeding and throbbing like hell and yet she could feel that she had made no progress. She now felt that all her efforts had only served to tire her, to make her waste oxygen and energy. She now had to try something else. First of all, she had to allow herself to get several full breaths because during all her struggles she had remained on the verge of asphyxia most of the time.

She dropped the life-line, relaxed her arms and contracted her muscles to lift her torso and free her windpipe. She was shocked to realise how hard it was now. Her back was aching like never before, its muscles knotted with vicious cramps. She managed to remain up for a few seconds, taking two half breaths through an aching throat and then she could hold it no longer. With utter terror she understood how low she had already sunk when her sore throat fell back against the three unyielding zip ties.

The narrow bands of plastic were now digging deep in her flesh, making it bulge to the point of nearly engulfing them. She tried to calm herself, to force herself to breathe slowly. Indeed, she could do it. A thin, hissing trickle of air managed to get in and out of her constricted windpipe. Alas, it took a lot of effort to push that air through and it was a losing battle against asphyxia, she soon realised. Her urging for fresh oxygen kept increasing, her lungs began to burn. There was no way out: to survive she had to lift her weight off her throat.

Her face had turned red and puffy, her eyes were reduced to slits and her vision was darkening. She forced her back to arch again and felt the implacable pressure lessen on her constricted throat. Still it was as though her windpipe did not regained its normal shape immediately. The pressure was not entirely gone anyway but still it felt as though her own body was now turning against her. Her stretched lips grimaced around the big red ball as she bit hard in it while her nostrils flared and her ribs tried to expand and force air to enter her craving lungs.

It felt so good to breathe! The feeling was incredible. The oxygen seemed to go straight to her brains to clear the smog out of it. Alas, it was short-lived. Her lungs were still half filled with toxic carbon dioxide when her muscles abandoned her and she landed back on the zip ties. She tried turning her head to the side, hoping to save her trachea from the crushing pressure. That failed. The three loops of plastic pressed her neck from all directions.

Still she badly needed to breathe. A first attempt at arching her back failed miserably. In dire despair she grabbed her firm buttock with her trembling fingers and was able to lift the dead weight of her torso. Her arms were rested and she was able to keep that position for a longer time. Enough to recover most of her wits. For a long moment her fingers remained locked into her buttocks, clawing them, as though grappled to save her life.

She breathed almost normally, her strangled breasts heaving up and down, the nipple chain swaying gently between them. She did not dare to try anything else, except for a few attempts at screaming for help that were totally muffled by the impossibly big gag that filled her mouth. No help was expected from that. Nobody was expected to come either. Her friends never came without calling her first and her family would only be alarmed after a couple of weeks. Weeks! She would be dead in a couple of days at best.

Night came and still her life was hanging to the strength in her arms. She flexed them now and then,trying to rest one, then the other. At first she had been drooling profusely because of the gag but now her mouth was dry and her lips were parched. She was still sweating profusely though. After a long resistance, her bladder had emptied and she was now bathing in her urine. The stench was terrible but she no longer noticed it. Her breasts had taken a dark purple colour. They were drooping now and the nipple chain brushed on the floor when she filled her lungs. They had stopped throbbing now, after a peak of agony where they had felt as though a heart had been beating in each of them. She could not see them though, her face constantly turned at the ceiling she hardly could see now in the darkness.

During the night the cramps overpowered the muscles of her arms. She had to rest them and that meant supporting the weight of her upper body with her neck. The anguish of strangulation came back. The battle for air started again with its dreadful oscillations between positions she could never sustain for more than a few minutes.

As the sun rose and light came back to her room, Ophélie was hardly able to open her puffy eyes. Her breath had been reduced to a trickle for so many hours. She barely had the stamina to lift herself for a half breath every 30 seconds. It was just enough to keep her alive in a nightmarish condition. Her parched tongue had swollen, making the packing of her mouth even worst. She was completely dehydrated now and semi-comatose, her head pounding with the worst headache she had ever felt. Her sufferings were abominable. She hoped for the death to come faster but still she could not stop herself from trying to breathe one more mouthful of oxygen, even though it prolonged her agony.

How many hours had passed? She had no way to tell. Her eyes were so puffy that she could not see anything. She was raving, half conscious, her mind totally overwhelmed with agony and urge for air. She tried once again to rise for a quick breath. They had gotten so small lately. This time however, her arms refused to function. Her back failed to help her too. Her nostrils flared, her chest expanded, her ribs trying to pierce through her skin. Nothing came in. The slits of her eyes managed to widen a bit as her face grimaced and her blurred vision told her she was in plain light. For long minutes she remained like that, grimacing and grunting, her lungs in fire, unable to do the most basic moves of life… until her heart mercifully stopped to beat.