Bondage Day Off · Part 1 (1/2)
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All through the pandemic lockdown closures in the spring of 2020, like so many “white collar” professionals, my Master and I were working from our one-bedroom apartment home. We only had a dining table and living room coffee table through the worst of it—neither of us had had a need for a dedicated “desk” before, and my 1930s vanity/dressing table in the bedroom was more important to me than a work desk—so we took turns with the dining and coffee tables as necessary for Zoom. Sometimes, one of us would go sit on the bed with our laptop if the other were in some long/distracting phone or video meeting.
But, because we were staying home all day every day and “stuck” with each other, we were also getting a LOT of playtime! I would spend large chunks of many workdays at least partially nude and/or in at least some form of light submission (e.g. gags when I didn’t have calls or meetings, breast and body harnesses, crotch-ropes, insertable vibrators, ankles tied, collar leashed to my table or chair, and combinations thereof), and would get thoroughly tied up in some fashion about once per day.
Though I usually wear my wedding ring on a necklace chain (as a “coded” sort of “collar”), I actually have a “formal” jewelry collar that I’ve always worn for dressy occasions (and which became my “wedding collar” after we got married), and I started wearing it around the house daily during this time. Shortly before the pandemic, we had invested in a really nice waterproof rechargeable insertable vibe for me with a remote control for him that I adored, and we got a ton of use out of it. I joked at the time with the fellow subbie lady friend I mentioned in my intro that I had at least something inside me literally every day during the stay-at-home closures!
At some point in late April, I was chatting about this with her (you know who you are if you’re reading this, K, so thank you, hun!) when she gave me one of the best ideas of my life: I decided I would “take the day off” from my work and beg him to leave me roped and gagged nude on the bed all day while he did his work. It was all I could think about for days, and my work performance actually started to suffer.
My antsy-ness got so bad by the first weekend of May, I finally “made an appointment” with him for the following week, and decided to give my work notice on Monday morning during my weekly team meeting that I would be taking personal time off that coming Friday the 8th for what I was calling my “Bondage Day Off.” (I can’t remember the specific excuse I gave them, but I obviously didn’t tell them that!) Since it was on a Friday, that gave me essentially a long weekend, and I was extremely happy at the thought of getting to spend all day Friday in bondage—and likely a lot of the weekend, too! I was a nervous wreck with anticipation all that week!
When the morning of the big day finally arrived, I slept in a little (hey, it was still a day off!); had some coffee and a tasty little chocolate croissant; and took a nice, long, hot shower to get myself relaxed and in the mood after Master was done with his morning routine. I “dressed” in just my peach satin lounging robe (and nothing else!) from my favorite vintage repro lingerie brand instead of my usual bathrobe to feel all special and sexy. The soft, smooth fabric on my bare 36C’s and groomed vulva felt amazing, and I knew right away that I had made the right choice.
Master tasked me with sorting out the instruments of my own captivity—all of the rope and implements that would shortly be used to make me his helpless sex object, squee!—while he got his remote workspace set up. If I was going to be “using” the bed, wink wink, he would have the entire living/dining room for a change, so I laid out most of our ropes and gag stuff on the bed. After a final inventory of the various lengths of rope and materials available, I stripped nude—making sure to pee since I didn't know when I would next be able to do so—and draped my satin robe over the back of my vanity chair. Taking my place on the bed, I lounged amongst it all looking sexy while I waited for him to come in and “get me ready” for my day of erotic helplessness.
We had decided over that preceding week that, since I wanted to shoot for being bound and gagged literally all day, he would make my ropework comfortable enough that I could. So we agreed he would rope me into probably my all-time favorite bondage position: ankles and knees together, wrists together (palms facing) behind my back, and a combination bikini/yoke chest harness around my breasts and upper arms. I don’t know if it has a “proper” name, but I usually refer to this position as a “classical” or “damsel” tie since it’s the iconic base pose used in most pop culture and damsel-in-distress depictions—as well as a ton of “serious” bondage.
He casually strolled into the room a few minutes later—cup of coffee in one hand, phone in the other, and eyes glued to the latter—dressed in his usual work-from-home schtick of khakis and long-sleeve collared shirt. He was still taking a pull on the coffee, gawking at his phone, when he happened to spot me out of the corner of his eye. I could see his face light up immediately as he did a literal double-take with his phone, but I have to admit that I halfway hoped he would do (and was a bit disappointed when he didn’t) a spit-take with the coffee.
“I’m ready for you to make me helpless, Master…” I said with over-the-top cartoonish seduction, batting my lashes and stroking my nude body with the arm I wasn’t resting on. (I’m more than a little reluctant to admit it, especially as a submissive, but the ability to manipulate straight males with my feminine sexuality is one of my favorite things about being a woman—right after my boobs and the ability to have multiple orgasms!) “I see that,” he replied, grinning ear to ear. It seems I had successfully lit a proverbial fire under him, as he hurried to his bedside table to set down the coffee and phone.
“Sit up here so I can get you ready,” he commanded matter-of-factly, pointing to the edge of his side of the bed. I obediently sat up and swung my legs over the side where he was pointing.
“Like this, Master?” I kept up the act from before, dripping with seduction and pouting my lips as I gave him my best doe eyes.
“Yes, that’s a good pet.” He smiled as he cupped my cheek in his hand. I instinctively swooned, mouth partly open and eyes shut reflexively. I knew he loved my aroused reactions, and I made no effort to control them.
“Now stay,” he commanded sternly, index finger outstretched.
“Yes, Master,” I replied as submissively as I could.
He rifled through the top drawer of his bedside table briefly, and I saw him produce that remote control insertable I mentioned earlier with a devious expression. My face (and likely much of my naked body) went red in arousal as I thrilled at what he clearly had in mind.
“My naughty little sex slave needs something to keep her occupied and out of trouble while I work,” he said as he powered it on and put it into standby mode.
I blushed and stammered out a “Yes, Master; thank you, Master” as I maneuvered on the bed to spread my legs and pussy lips to give him access, and gasped as he shoved it up in me. He quickly picked up one of the appropriate lengths of rope and set to work tying a crotch-rope at my waist to hold it in place. After cinching a rope “belt” below my belly button, he threaded the loose end through the “extraction” loop on the end of the vibe that was sticking out from my lower lips, teasing me as he worked. I moaned as he pulled it between and down into my lips and squealed as he tugged it up into me hard before knotting it off in the small of my back.
I’m usually not super keen on crotch-ropes—I have a fairly sensitive clit, don’t like anal stimulation (I tolerate animal tail plugs because I love the fluffy tail parts), and would much rather leave my pussy open for… “access”—but I had kinda figured something like this would be coming since it was the perfect opportunity for it, and I just knew he was going to have so much fun teasing and tormenting me. I have to admit that I was getting intensely excited thinking about it! Well… from that, and from the nylon rope stroking my pussy and clit!
He usually ties my legs first so I can hold myself up and adjust my position, or hold a stray rope end or my hair out of the way with my hands still free if necessary, and I always love both the feel and the symbolism of my wrists being the last to be tied as the final piece to make me truly helpless. (No bondage is complete for me without my hands being tied in some fashion, but I digress…) After the crotchrope, he securely bound my ankles, and cinched my legs tightly together both above and below the knee.
“Up.” He gestured for me to stand up, cradling one of our longest ropes in the other hand, and I obediently complied.
“Now turn around,” as he made a finger twirl gesture. I once again obeyed without question, shuffling around to face the bed.
He assertively took hold of my wrists and pulled them together behind my back to force my upper arms to my sides, then wrapped the rope several times both above and below my ample breasts. I jiggled them playfully as he worked, giggling coquettishly, and moaned in pleasure as he groped them in response. Once he was done with the base wraps, he passed the rope under my armpit, over my shoulder, along the back of my neck, and then down to form the yoke. After cinching that off at the anchor loop in the center of my back, he went up my back, over my sternum and under the lower base wrap, then around itself and back up over the other side of my neck to frame my boobs in a bikini shape. He still had some slack, so he cinched this off at the anchor, ran it up and over the yoke and back, then wrapped up and around that length over and over until he eventually ran out of rope and knotted it off.
And now for the last, best, most delicious part: my wrists! I bent forward over and onto the bed in order to “present” them to him to make it easier for him. With my cheek pressed into the mattress, I submissively held them a few centimeters apart behind my back for him, fingers together and outstretched femininely.
“What a good pet,” he affirmed as he patted my butt affectionately. I cooed as he dutifully wrapped loops of rope around my outstretched wrists. With each successive wrap, I moaned progressively more in ever-increasing bliss from my helplessness—which turned to pure complete ecstasy when he cinched them down and knotted it off!
I tested all my bonds, and I was happily nice and helpless! He wandered off somewhere behind me as I moaned happily—still bent over, waiting for my next command as a good submissive sex slave. While I couldn’t see what he was doing, I knew it was now time for me to be gagged. I could tell a surprise was coming when I heard rummaging in our closet followed by a devious chuckle.
“Up, and open your mouth,” he commanded me matter-of-factly.
I meekly obeyed and felt what turned out to be an entire pair of my panties getting stuffed into my pert little mouth. I grunted in exaggerated annoyance—while I adore the results of mouth stuffing, I have a fairly small mouth and don’t particularly enjoy the act or sensation—and tried to make a displeased face that he wouldn’t be able to see from behind me anyway.
“Hush, pet.”
Apparently not trusting me not to spit it out (probably a good bet), he held it in my mouth with one hand while he maneuvered my bound body and came around in front of me. For my part, I held my irritated expression so he could see. He chuckled lightly and tweaked my nipple, and I yelped through the cloth.
“Behave.” His tone was more bemused than reproachful. I nodded with a “Yeph, Maphpuh,” and once again became the demure submissive. The moment had passed.
He then set to work sealing my lips over with long, 7-8” strips from the roll of duct tape I had laid out earlier and smoothing them flat on my face. Another… and another… and another… Everything from below my chin to the bottom of my nose and over my cheekbones was thoroughly and neatly sealed with about 8 or 9 strips of sticky silver duct tape as I moaned, squealed, and tested it. When he was done with the roll, he finished by wrapping my whole lower face in a self-adhesive elastic bandage (like Ace Bandage, but a version called “Vetrap” designed for veterinary applications that’s a lot thinner and easier to work with) and pressed and smoothed that down over my face on top of the duct tape.
“I need to make sure you're quiet so you don't bother me while I'm working, pet!”
I gave him an unamused look and tried screaming as loudly and making as much noise as possible to sass him—but absolutely nothing came out, which was sooo damned hot! He just smirked at me and raised one hand mockingly to his ear.
“What was that? Speak up, I can’t understand you,” he teased, and I rolled my eyes as I groaned in highly exaggerated “displeasure.” Now I was securely gagged and totally helpless!
He fondled my boobs, and I moaned; struggled; and pretended to “resist” as best I could while helpless in something like 200’ of rope with my legs welded together and wrists tied tightly behind my back. He pushed me down onto the bed, and I shrieked loudly (which came out as little more than a muffled squeal through my thorough gag) in surprise. I yelled angrily behind my gag about the unexpected shove as he rolled me over onto my front and gave me a big fat spank on the butt—making me squeal even more into the gag.
“Now, you be a good little slave and behave for your owner!” he admonished (outstretched index finger and all) before turning and leaving the room, closing the door behind him. The tide of endorphins from the adrenaline rush of the fall and being spanked was starting to wash over me, so I happily mmpph-ed into my gag and started struggling and rolling around on the bed, bare nipples rubbing the sheets and grinding against my crotchrope, excited to have my fun!
I honestly have no idea how much time passed just writhing happily bound and gagged on the bed; we have a bedside clock, but I couldn’t see it in my position. I had almost forgotten about the vibe inside me (though I couldn't forget about that delicious crotchrope) when it suddenly jumped to life! I squealed as loudly as possible through close to 10 layers of duct tape and several yards of elastic bandage wrap. It whirred several times in a repeating, increasing kind of wave pattern meant to simulate slow thrusting. I humped at it and moaned, but it only ran for like 30 seconds before shutting off!
I groaned in genuine frustration as I realized this was totally going to be his plan, to keep teasing and edging me all day from his remote control. With a lot of luck and good timing, I thought I might be able to come from it—but probably not if he had anything to say about it. I was well and truly stuck (in multiple ways!) until after he was done for the day and could do something about it himself.
What a pussytease! I thought, with an annoyed expression.
The morning went on like this for I would guess 2-3 hours: me writhing and struggling happily on the bed, grinding against my crotch-rope and the vibe it held within, punctuated with occasional unpredictable bursts of activity from his controlling my vibe. Never enough to make me seriously aroused or anywhere near climax, but more than enough to keep things interesting!
I figured it must be about time for his lunch break when I heard his footsteps outside the bedroom, so I rolled to face the opening door and struggled to sit up. Squirming happily to entice his attention, I bounced and waggled my tits as I tried to “mmphh” as cutely as I could. He just laughed on his way into the bathroom, ignoring me!
The nerve! I thought, grumbling softly.
On his way out, he sat down on the bed right next to me and gazed at me the way one would a new car, with pride of ownership and caring protectiveness. I gave him my best, cutest, sexiest doe-eyed innocent submissive pouty face (protip for any submissives reading this: duck your head but look up at him with your eyes wide open in a questioning look while you slowly mug from cheek-to-cheek) while whimpering as best I could through my heavy gag.
Come on, dammit! Touch me! Play with me!
He chuckled and cupped my girls in both hands, and I gave my best bedroom eyes and gagged aroused moan. I wasn’t acting, because both they and I loved the attention!
“You're so damned cute!” he enthused and kissed me on the gag where my lips would be. “Is my pet enjoying herself?”
HELL yes!
I nodded and “mm-hmm'd” seductively, wriggling and shaking my boobs to hopefully get him to toy with them more. He “pretended” not to hear me or notice and continued with the verbal teasing.
“What was that? Do you like being my helpless plaything?”
Of course I do, you sexy jerk! I thought. But instead, I replied with the absolute sexiest “Mmm-HMMM!” you've ever heard and batted my eyelashes at him—which obviously pleased him, because he gently played with my tits (mission accomplished!), and I made sure he could tell
Bondage Day Off · Part 1 (1/2)
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