Chiller · Part 1

Chiller · Part 1 (1/2)
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I lay on our bed, my upper body propped up on a pile of pillows, reading a cooking magazine. A very low and muffled sound made me look across the room. I glanced over at the clock, to see how long it had been. I put down my magazine, reached down, and softly stroked my clit. Across the room was Sean, my fiancé. We had been in love since we were 19, were now 26, and were engaged to be married in 6 months. At the moment he was seated in what must be his favorite piece of furniture, one which he had lovingly built by hand. His bondage chair. He had copied the basic design from an Internet site, but had made a few alterations. The frame was of 4" x 4" oak posts, mounted on a 2.5' square of heavy plywood, and it was remarkably heavy. But it was on industrial grade castors however, and, if necessary, Sean could push it into our walk-in closet and drape blankets over it to hide it.

When Sean and I began dating, I wouldn't have known a posture collar from an armbinder but, within 2 years, I was pretty much an expert on bondage equipment. We didn't own very much equipment in those days, but now we have closets full, drawers full. In addition to having bought a huge number of toys, Sean will sometimes get inspired to build his own. We both have well-paying high-tech jobs and, with no children, lots of disposable income. Sean tends to spend his on toys, either electronic, automotive, or bondage. I’m the saver in our little family, but I don’t begrudge him his fun.

To the inexperienced viewer, Sean wasn't moving in the slightest. The bondage was that extreme and effective. But I could detect that he was really struggling, more than I had ever seen before. I smiled and continued to watch, while softly rubbing my clit. This S&M business must be contagious, I thought. I realized that I was really enjoying watching my fiancé in inescapable bondage, very tightly and effectively gagged, blindfolded, and obviously trying his best to escape. Maybe it was conditioning, since I always masturbated while he was in bondage. Who knows for sure? Maybe I was a closet sadist and all our games were bringing that closer to the surface.

“Maybe it's time”, I thought, and got off the bed and crossed the room. It was obvious why he was trying to get loose, or at least to get my attention and have me release him. I had thought this idea crazy from the first time I heard about it, but didn't say so. Sean delighted in contriving these bondage ordeals for himself. And if he wanted to try something, I was more than happy to go along. He was a loving, faithful mate, and I got all the normal sex I wanted, and I did find his games interesting and provocative. Yes, exciting in fact. I had to admit it.

It was only a few months after we began having sex when Sean confessed to me, very bravely I thought, that he was fascinated with the subject of bondage, and being on the receiving end. He was very relieved that I was not shocked or appalled. But I had done enough web surfing that I knew there were all kinds of kinks out there, and I had an open mind.

Our first foray into bondage involved what the aficionados called “Tie & Tease”, and which was still among Sean’s favorite things to do. This involved his being rigorously bound and gagged, having me bring him almost to orgasm, and then stop. I would continue to tease him, and keep him hard and horny for several hours before I let him come. The first few times were fiascos, of course. He escaped my bondage within minutes. But I had been a willing student and he had been encouraging and anxious to help me develop my skills and, with the additional help of internet sites and lots of experimentation, my rope bondage became quite expert. I learned remarkably quickly and had evolved to the point that now, once I had bound him thoroughly, he could struggle for hours and still not even begin to free himself.

I got to like having control and being able to manipulate the situation. In most of his bondage positions, hogtied on the bed for instance, I could take off his gag whenever I wanted, and position myself so that he could lick my pussy. This was another of his loves, being “forced” to service me orally, for as many orgasms as I wanted. So I could relieve the sexual tension anytime I wanted, and relax and continue with the session, continue teasing him at my own pace, without any pressure. My own horniness determined how the session would end. If I felt like being ravaged, I would release him before making him come. He would mount me like a stallion. If I didn’t feel like being penetrated, or if I was sated or tired, I would just bring him off while he was still bound and gagged. That way, when I did finally release him, he would only want to cuddle a little bit more and then go to sleep.

At first I was very conscious of not keeping him tied too long. We discussed it and initially set a time limit of one hour. But Sean quickly decided that this wasn’t long enough, and he pushed it up to two hours. Then, “Can we try three hours today?”. These days there was no official time limit. We had decided that I knew him well enough to judge his reactions and that I would merely use my judgment as to how long he remained in bondage. Additionally, this pleased Sean by adding to the mystique, the fantasy, of his being completely in my control.

His bondage scenarios slowly evolved. In the days when rope was all that we could afford, we spent many hours in bed, snuggling, with Sean tightly hogtied and me leisurely playing with his nipples and cock. And I would always interrogate him about what other kinds of things he fantasized about. And it was in this context that many of his more complicated scenarios were born. Tightly bound in this way he was very open, and freely talked about other things he would like to try, about what he must have thought were his darkest fantasies. I began to realize why people spoke about bondage as being a “liberating” experience.

And once his fantasies were vocalized, they took shape. Over the years, his bondage experiments became more and more elaborate. Some were so elaborate and complicated and time consuming that they had to be reserved for either Saturday or Sunday afternoons. The scripts were always composed by Sean, which didn't bother me in the least. I did notice that lately, in the last couple of years, his scenarios had begun to drift toward situations which involved inescapable bondage combined with some degree of discomfort. In cruising the various web sites and forums, he had come across the concept, "It's not really bondage until you want to get loose!".

I didn’t understand, the first time Sean quoted that remark. But it means that the bondage experience is enhanced once the victim realizes that he really cannot escape. The bondage becomes much more real when he wants to escape, struggles his hardest, tries his best to escape, and can’t. So the element of discomfort, or pain, is added to make that victim genuinely try his hardest to get loose. And it’s the inability to escape that validates the bondage, that gives it the extra kick of legitimacy. And so, with this understanding, I fully went along with the scenarios which my fiancé orchestrated.

The first and most obvious things we tried were nipple clamps. They are frequently featured in Internet bondage pictures and are sold in every sex shop. Sean started slow, first asking that they be left on for 5 minutes, then 10 minutes, then with weights. I tried them on myself and didn’t think that they hurt much, but I realized that they would become really uncomfortable after 5 or 10 minutes, especially with the weights. Then he experimented with those little plastic clothespins, a lot meaner, for his nipples and then up and down his cock. And he was always coming up with new and different fantasies. So, that pretty much explains how we got to today’s scenario.

The preparations for today began with him bathing and presenting himself in the bedroom, naked except for his ball collar. This was a circular band of steel, hinged on one side, which closed around his scrotum above his balls, trapping them below the metal. It had a tiny hole in one edge and a tiny hex wrench was used to tighten a setscrew, just where the halves joined, and thereby lock the circle closed. It had a swivel ring mounted into the outside surface. It really was a well-made device, almost like jewelry. Sean had seen it on one of our shopping expeditions to Mr. S and had fallen in love with the idea. He said that it gave him an extreme sense of submission, to put his most sensitive parts under my complete control.

With his hands cuffed behind his back, I could attach a leash to the swivel ring and he would have to follow wherever I led. I frequently enjoyed tying the leash to one of the corner legs of our bed, to keep him on his knees and then I would lay back, with my legs draped over his shoulders, and command him to lick me for as long as I wanted and giving him directions; higher, lower, faster, slower.

It was easy to understand why this tiny collar gave him an extra sense of vulnerability and submission. His balls were held down, below his body, bulging out below the band of steel, and were left completely exposed and available. And those trapped balls looked especially vulnerable since he started shaving off his pubic hair. Or I should say since I started removing it. He liked for me to keep myself shaved, and one day I suggested that it was only fair for him to reciprocate, and he was more than happy to comply. Keeping shaved fitted in perfectly with his fantasies of submission.

It was Sean who suggested, for the first time that his pubic hair was removed, that I shave him while he was bound and gagged. I went one better. When he was securely spread-eagled, blindfolded and gagged, I trimmed his pubic hair to about ½” long and then waxed him. I knew only too well that it hurt, but not too horribly. After all, I’d done it to myself many times. And the hair grows back much slower than with shaving, and when it does grow back it seems softer and silkier. Sean keeps himself cleanly shaved most of the time, but when he stops and lets it grow, I know that he is asking for another waxing.

The ball collar is the only bondage item which Sean always puts on all by himself. We both prefer it that way because, the first and only time I tried to put it on him, I caught the skin of his scrotum in the tiny hinges of the collar. Which is easy to do. He’s caught his own skin many times, but the difference is that he can feel the pinching and make adjustments before he completely closes the band. When I did it, not only did he lurch in his bonds and start making as much noise as he could behind his gag, but it pinched the skin so badly that it actually broke the skin. He only lost a few drops of blood, but it definitely was a non-erotic type of pain and it spoiled the scene. And the fact that I had made him bleed panicked me a little bit. So now I leave application of the collar to him.

When Sean presented himself for bondage, first went on the old design handcuffs, called Darbys, shackling his hands behind his back. This older design had very broad and rounded interior surfaces on the cuffs, so that they didn't dig into the skin like modern handcuffs. We learned, early on, that this was essential for long-term bondage. Next, I inserted soft and spongy plugs into his ears, to enhance his feelings of sensory deprivation and isolation. Then on went his leather hood, with openings for eyes and mouth, and little holes under the nose. I strapped this on and followed it with his posture collar. Next, on went the armbinder, and I only fastened the wrist and elbow straps snugly, and didn't pull them really tight. That wasn't necessary, considering what was to follow.

The bondage chair didn't really have what could be considered a seat. Sean perched on two padded oak 4x4s which projected out in a "V" shape, so his weight was supported only by the cheeks of his ass and his upper thighs. The front legs of the chair supported this "V", so that his legs were held widely spread. I would draw his ankles to the outsides of the front legs and strap them tightly to the chair frame. More straps, permanently attached to the chair frame, went around his upper calves, and across his lower thighs just above the knees. Any part of the chair which made contact with Sean was upholstered in black leather, including the square base.

The back of the chair was heavy plywood securely fastened to two vertical 4×4 posts and was in the form of a human silhouette, specifically Sean's exact silhouette, from the waist up to the top of the head. He had, after all, made it just for himself. I had helped him sketch the template he used before he cut out the chair back, by tracing his head and torso on brown wrapping paper which he had taped to the wall. The back was also upholstered in black leather, but with a special adaptation. The back was contoured, with two bulges of heavy-duty foam, to form another "V", coming down from the shoulders and not quite meeting at the seat. This was to accommodate Sean's armbinder.

Since comfort (I smile every time I use that word – it is so incongruous in this context) is important for long-term bondage, he didn't want his arms to be crushed behind his back. But he wanted to be very tightly strapped in the chair. So this gap, in the back, solved this problem. The armbinder, holding his arms in a long triangle, fit perfectly in the gap he had created on the back of the chair.

After fastening his legs I tightly buckled wide leather straps across his lower tummy, across the center of his chest, a couple of inches below his nipples, and another one above his nipples. These straps were also permanently attached to the chair frame. Next, being careful not to pull them too tightly, I fastened straps from the frame to the rings on either side of his posture collar, holding his neck immovable. Next was a strap going across his forehead. Last, at least for now, I fastened the strap going from the top of his hood to the top of the chair.

As I pulled each strap tight I would get encouraging comments from my fiancé. "Great", "Perfect”, “Nice and tight".

"Well, that's almost it, sweetheart", I said, speaking loudly so that he could hear me through the ear plugs, looking down at him with a smile. "Fidget a little bit, and see if everything is comfy." He did and I could hardly detect any movement at all, except for his lower face. And that would be fixed soon enough.

"O. K., so far?", I asked.

"Perfect!", he said.

"Before I put in the gag, are you sure you want to go ahead with this?", I asked, even though I had no doubt about the answer. I was just going through the motions of being the overly concerned mate.

“Oh, yes", he said, taking a deep breath. He was already in a kind of a submissive daze, and obviously anxious to be firmly and finally strapped in.

The gag was an integral part of the chair. I picked it up and gently pushed the large bulb of leather into Sean's open mouth. The gag strap had two tongues, which went into buckles permanently affixed to each side of the chair's headrest. I fastened one, then the other, then tightened them to make sure that the gag was exactly centered. When I was finished adjusting the buckles, his head was pulled snugly back against the padded back of the chair, and held in place by the gag. Sean had fabricated the gag himself, and had installed some thick foam padding around the base of the leather plug, which foam pressed against his lips. This was not only to further minimize any sounds he might try to make, but absorbed saliva so that he would not drool during his bondage session.

I snugged up the strap across his forehead and the strap coming off the top of his hood.

Chiller · Part 1 (1/2)
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