A splitting headache woke her up. She was slowly coming back to her senses. She tried to swallow, but something was in her mouth. She tried to spit it out but couldn’t, as if she had her face or it or something.
Her vision was dark. She would have rub her eyes, but something was holding her hands in her back. Even her legs seemed awkwardly restrained.
She tried to remember what happened. Was there an earthquake? Was she somewhat buried under some debris?
She was breathing with difficulties as something was crushing her stomach. That’s it, she was probably buried under debris or something.
But what happened? Where was she?
Who was she?
She had no recollection of who she was.
As she tried to move, her skin felt strange, as if something was sliding on it, like there was liquid rubbing on it. Weird.
As she tried to push whatever was in her mouth out of the way, she felt a pull at the same time at the back and on top of her head. Whatever it was that was stuck in her mouth was somewhat attached to her head. Even trying to open her arms pulled something over her head.
What the fuck?
As her headache subsided, her vision became clearer. She was in a room, darkly lit, mostly of red lights, and she couldn’t move her head much as her neck was stiff.
She crawled on her side, to the nearest wall where she tried to sit. There was something odd at her crotch. Something was moving… INSIDE HER, and there was something IN BOTH HOLES!
What the fuck?
Her back was rigid and her breathing became shorter, but what shocked her the most was the sight of her legs: they were encased in rubber!
What the fuck?
And her feet. What the hell was those boots? The feet looked like ballet shoes with an impossible heel.
As she tried to figure out how her arms were held in her back, she came in contact with steel, around her waist, holding up a… corset, and there was another steel band going around her crotch?
“What the fucking fuck?”
She looked around her, at the room. There wasn’t much. A treadmill, a stationary bike, an elliptical machine, a rowing machine. Looked like a home gym. Except for that opened door to the right, leading to a closet, where she could see through dim red light, disturbing stuff.
Only one window, with the blinds pulled down. She could see some sunlight shining through. Well, it wasn’t night time. She had no way to tell the exact time tho, there was no clock in that room.
She suddenly had some flashbacks. She saw someone being dressed up, and steel cuffs being locked on her ankles, knees, wrists and elbows. She saw HER in the mirror, head covered by a latex hood, hell the entire body covered in latex, applying a wide steel collar.
She couldn’t see HER eyes: they were hidden under dark lenses.
She now knew what all of this was: she was tied up in a latex catsuit, with corset, ballet boots and a chastity belt. But why? How?
And most importantly, by who?
Looking at her feet, linked with a 15cm chain, she noticed another length of chain, linked to the middle of it. It had a large ring at the end. The ring was opened, obviously torn.
She looked up and she saw something dangling from the ceiling: the hook of a winch, but there was only the hook and a steel wire disappearing in the ceiling.
She closed her eyes. What the hell…
Then all hell broke loose. Whatever was inside her became alive. They began to vibrate, move, pulsate. She threw her head backward, hitting the wall, sending a wave of pain through her fragile skull.
The vibrations were disturbing at first, but it quickly left the place to… pleasure? The more she struggled to try to reach them, to stop them, the more aroused she got.
“What the f… OH GOSH!! YES!!!!” she screamed under her gag, as an orgasm exploded, making her jump up and down on her butt, leaving her in frustration as everything stopped right in the middle of it.
Frustrated, she tried to get them back on, squirming, banging her butt, trying to reach them by pulling on her chastity belt. Again, she hit her head on the wall, the headache was back.
“Damn!” she thought. “What the hell am I doing? Am I really… enjoying that?”
She closed her eyes to let the pain go away, yet at the same time, she was contracting every muscle she could to get some feeling back down there.
There were more flashbacks. She saw that woman, or it was herself, being tied up, locking the chains with small padlocks on her legs, threading a chain from elbow cuffs down to the wrist cuffs, and pulling on the chain, effectively bringing her elbows together, before locking it on her wrist cuffs.
But she was seeing that looking through a mirror. That person was self-doing all that. Self bondage?
She couldn’t see a face. She had nothing to figure out who it was. Then again, even if she knew who it was, she wouldn’t know who it was.
Fucking memory. And weird memory loss. She could remember, recognize objects and situations, but not who she is or where she is.
She thought for a moment: if it was a self bondage thing, surely there must be a release method somewhere. Keys. Of course. Everything was locked using padlocks. There must be keys. Somewhere.
If only she knew where “where” was, she would know where to start. She didn’t even know how many rooms there were in this place in the first place. (don’t you love the intricacies of the English language? I hope I got this right – Pete)
She struggled to get on her knees and tried to crawl, but her knee cuffs were linked directly with a padlock. She was moving 2cm at a time. She would have to get up.
Yeah, right, as if someone could walk on those silly boots.
She had nothing to lose from trying. And if she couldn’t walk, at least, she would be standing higher, and would have a better view of the whole room from sitting on the floor.
She knee-hobbled her way to the nearest machine, the bike, and backed to it, grabbing what she could with her hands in her back and pulling herself up. She was feeling beads of sweat running down her spine. She liked it.
Somehow, not exactly knowing how, she knew what to do, how to grab a hold of something and pull herself up with her hands in her back, as if she had done it dozens of times, so much that it was automatic.
Okay, time for the big pull, to stand on these silly boots. One, two, three.
She was up. That was easy, and she was surprisingly at ease. No pain, no strain, no… SHIT!
The dildos just fired. She grabs a hold of the bike seat with her bound arms. The chain forcing her elbows together seemed to loosen and her arms spread a little, got on each side of the seat, creating a sturdy hold. She thought. Standing on her toes like that, forced her to work her thigh muscles, which in turn, seemed to increase the pressure at her crotch. The vibrations hadn’t been that powerful since she… awakened.
With her arms behind the seat, she grabbed the back of her chastity belt in the hope to stand still, but she pulled on it and it had the adverse effect of moving on the dildos. Damn!
Her legs began to shake and she dropped back to her knees, forcing her slippery arms to slide on the seat and open, and drop down below the seat, around the pole, trapping her wrists around the seat pole in a strappado position.
Damn! That only increased the pleasure, the orgasm. Her body shook as it engulfed it, and screwed off her brain in the process. The dildos continued their job for a while after the orgasm, which only made her weaker.
It took her some time to recompose herself, panting heavily through her nose, feeling drool dripping from her plugged mouth down on her latex covered breasts.
She still didn’t know who she was, but she knew why she liked these kinds of setups, and why she would go to such extremes.
That was fucking awesome!
She struggled to get herself back up against the stationary bike. Sliding her arms over the rounded edges of the seat had been relatively easy, but getting them out, from the underside of the seat, was another story. She almost twisted her elbow doing so, but at least, she was free.
Okay, time for the first step. She tried to stay close to the bike, just in case. It went well. Then the second step. Actually, it was quite easy. She had flashbacks. She was seeing herself walking with those extreme boots on the treadmill. No wonder it seemed easy: she had trained a lot for them. Her mind knew. Just her memory wasn’t remembering.
She hobbled her way to the door, which was closed and opened inside the room. In this short walk, she was able to appreciate the late covering her body, sliding, massaging, rubbing her with every move. She loved it.
She grabbed her doorknob with her bound hands and as soon as the door was opened enough for her shoulder to go through, she gave it a hard push, throwing it fully open.
She was facing a corridor. To the left, what appeared to be the kitchen, and to the right, more rooms. She walked to the kitchen, following closely the wall, in case she was to lose her balance. Her head was still pounding from time to time.
Well, she was in a house. The kitchen, dining room and living room were one large area with a cathedral roof. Everything looked quite expensive. Either, she had lots of money, or she had fully loaded credit cards.
She could see the clock on her stainless steel kitchen appliances: 06:45. Well, it was early evening. That was something to know.
She hobbled her way on the other side of the corridor. The first door she passed was the bathroom. She was approaching what she thought was the bedroom when her dildos fired again.
Oh god!!! She pushed with her feet against the wall. She didn’t want to collapse on her knees or something. She had nothing to grab to get back up. She closed her eyes, wishing the dildos to stop, but it did nothing. Instead, her boots slipped on the hardwood and, her back against the wall, she quickly fell down, sitting on the floor, falling hard on her butt, on her chastity belt, on her dildos.
Fuck! She skyrocketed again. She just couldn’t help herself. She jumped her butt up and down, increasing the effectiveness of the dildos. Damn!
She closed her eyes as the orgasms winded down, and the dildos stopped.
Panting hard, fixating the wall in front of her, she had only one option to get back up: crawl to the nearest room and use whatever was in there to get back up.
Suddenly, over her impaired hearing through the thick latex hood, she heard noises. A door closing.
“Karen? It’s Lynda. I’m here!”
Shit. What should she do? And who was this Karen. Was that her name? It did ring a bell. Did this Lynda know about Karen’s kinky side?
She heard footsteps, high heeled footsteps.
“Hey! Ho! Karen! Where are you? Are you… Holly Macaroni!!!!! What the hell?” asked the blonde woman, dressed in skinny stretched leather jeans, leather jacket over a white shirt and platform shoeties.
“Karen? Is that you?”
The worst part was that she didn’t know the answer herself. She raised her shoulders in a “I don’t know “ manner.
“What the fuck is that, Karen? I figured you had a weird side as you always wear those extremely tight jeans and extreme heels, but geesh…”
Karen didn’t answer. She just struggled to get back up. Lynda helped her.
“Are you okay? This is… extreme. Kind of.” said Lynda, looking at the full bondage setup. “Let me take this off.” she said, reaching for the gag buckles. “Ah, locked. Where are the keys?”
Karen simply stared at her, then raised her shoulders.
“You don’t know?”
Karen wanted to nod a big no, but the posture collar only permitted a small one.
“What do you mean, you don’t know?”
Karen stared at her. If Lynda would have seen through the dark lenses covering her eyes, she would have seen darts being thrown out. “I’m gagged, you idiot…” she mumbled through her gag, which of course, was totally unintelligible.
She stared down at the length of chain dangling from her ankles.
Lynda looked down and saw the chain, and the broken link. When she looked back at Karen, she was gesturing to go toward the exercise room.
Lynda went, entered and came back a few moments later.
“Okay, you were suspended by the feet and somehow, you fell down?”
Karen raised her shoulders. She didn’t know for sure.
“What do you mean, you don’t know? You were there… oh wait. Are you telling me that you don’t remember?”
Karen nodded the biggest yes she could do, which was a small nod.
“Oh, darn. Are you okay? Are you hurt?”
Karen gently bangs her head on the wall.
“Oh, right, you lost your memory. Okay, here, let me help you. Want to go to the bedroom?”
Karen nodded yes and Lynda carried her to the bedroom where Karen collapsed on the bed. That was welcomed.
The dildos fired again. Karen moaned while throwing her hips upward.
“What is that sound… oh shit! You have vibrating dildos in there?” she said, putting her hand on her chastity belt. “Wait…what? You got two of them?”
Lynda didn’t ask. She laid over Karen, putting her crotch over the belt, trying to feel the vibration herself.
“Why should you have all the fun?”
Karen was stunned, but at the same time, this increased weight was simply…she launched again.
As Karen was taken by convulsions, Lynda got off of her.
“You seem to be getting all the fun… Oh, look! There’s a safe here with the door ajar.”
Karen was still phased out. It took her some time to realize that Lynda was talking to her. She raised herself on her elbows and looked at lynda walking to a small safe with an electronic timer lock.
“There’s a few keys in there.” she said, picking the keys and walking back to Karen.
She bent forward, to ease the access to the locks of her harness ballgag. Lynda removed the locks and was granted with a pool of drool when the large red ball was removed from the mouth. Karen coughed a little, spitting more saliva on her shiny legs and on the floor.
“Oh damn! Thank you… Lynda.”
“What the hell happened, what’s all… this?” asked Lynda, showing Karen’s predicament.
“That’s the problem.” said Karen. “I don’t remember. I believe I may have fallen on my head, but I have only flash backs. I still don’t know who I am, and where I am. Is this my house?”
“Darn! You really hit your head hard. By what I could see, you hit the side of the treadmill. You’re still hurting?”
“Just a little. It’s fading rapidly since you removed the harness. It was probably compressing the bump or something. Err… would you mind, please?” she said, turning her shoulders around and showing her bound arms.
Lynda reached for them then withdrew.
“What are you doing?” asked Karen.
“Hum… I came here because you asked me to come by 7:00 to go out clubbing. We’re obviously not going out clubbing.”
“Well, the only thing I could think of is a safety measure. If for some reason, I was not able to get out of my predicament, having you coming in was a sure way of getting out. I do believe we are good friends?”
“Yes, since grade school. You really don’t remember, do you?”
“No. I’m trying, but I just can’t. We’ll have to go to the hospital, I believe.”
“So, you don’t remember what happened before. Is it possible that, once you will regain that memory, you will forget what had happened while you were amnesic?”
“I don’t know… Why?”
“Well, you’ve always had the best over me: better grades, better boyfriends, better job. Just look at this place.”
“And…You want to, what, blackmail me?”
Lynda didn’t say a word and, instead of removing Karen’s cuffs, she took back the ballgag harness and stuffed it back into Karen’s mouth, quickly fastening, Karen being in no way able to resist.
“Ah, calm down, It will be only until your memory comes back. For once in my life, I will control YOUR life and I will have the best over you!” she said, getting up and walking away, to come back a few moments later with a leash on a chain, which she snapped on Karen’s posture collar front ring.
“That’s quite a collection of toys you got over there. Let’s try a few, shall we?”
“Ah, stop gruning. I’m sure you’re enjoying all of this to the highest level” answered Lynda, pulling on the leach, forcing Karen to get up and hobble along.
She had more flashbacks. Her memory was coming back. The short time without the harness had done its job. She was remembering who she was, where she was, and who was Lynda. And she would remember everything of what happened.
© Pete / monsterp63, March 3, 2018
Very Important Note
When I posted that story on DA, I was flooded by angry comments that I was apparently taking lightly the consequences of a concussion, and that Lynda should have brought her to the hospital instead of playing Master with her.
First: I know that a concussion is a serious matter and I had one myself when I was a 11y/o kid. However, it wasn’t a “known concern” at the time – I blacked out, threw up and I was told to just relax. Maybe that’s why I have the twisted mind I have today…
Someone with a concussion must seek medical attention as soon as possible.
Now, to come back to this story, it is what it is. A story. A piece of fiction. Like permanent encasement, long term sealing in latex, a gag that renders the victim totally silent (unless you reach the vocal cords, one can always make sounds). This is fantasy, fiction, like John McClain defeating an entire armada of armed terrorists by himself. (Die Hard, for those who didn’t get the allusion).
Self-Bondage is dangerous. If you do it, do it with great care, plan ahead, test it small steps by small steps, have multiple solutions to get out, and have someone coming to visit you… Just in case.
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