A Detailed Account of My Morning Routine and Self-Bonding Session Until Recently

I was set to go today. My alarm, that is. I jumped out of bed, tied my hair back in a ponytail, dressed for running, and headed straight out the door. My route covers three and a quarter miles one way and just as much returning. It’s part of my daily routine. Today it provided ample time to process the details of today’s selfbondage session. The star of the show is my new leather corset. I wore it last Friday, but all that boning combined with stiff new material made it tougher than usual. My satin Axford corsets fit like a glove. I wear them whenever possible—under dresses, with jeans (you simply must have plenty if you live in Texas), and mostly at home. The PVC one is just what it sounds like; I treat it more as plaything than wardrobe staple. Ahh, leather! I adore the scent, feel, and noise it produces. But back to Friday. It didn’t go perfectly. I misjudged how working with my new favorite would slow me down. Starting late in the day meant that by the time I adjusted, my daughter was nearly home from High School. Time to pack up everything, frustrated but not fully satisfied. Now at the halfway mark of my run, turning back for the three and a quarter mile return trip, a plan is forming. Once inside, I’ll shower…shaving every bit, baking biscuits (yes, cooking isn’t foreign to me), rousing my husband and daughter so they can head off to work and school respectively. While they eat breakfast, I take my seat at the vanity for the lengthy process of dressing up. I like turning each SB session into an event; not sure why, but it enhances enjoyment if I do. I have brunette hair flowing down to mid-back with highlights blending in some grey streaks. My husband adores it—he calls it the Morticia Adams style, though I suspect it’s a bit of his fetish. My daughter, sporting red streaks herself, thinks it looks cool, so I maintain this look. Today, however, my hair is swept up tightly into a roll at the back of my head, reminiscent of Grace Kelly (minus her signature honey blonde hue). I delayed makeup until everyone left the house; didn’t want to suggest I was sneaking out on him while he watched. Back at the vanity, focusing on eyes: skipping the 50s style for the currently popular smokey eye look. Surprisingly, I learned this via Youtube tutorials. Ladies, we don’t require professional artists to appear sexy; you can practically study cosmetology online. A touch of color on cheeks, nose, and chin completes it. Now, regarding makeup rules: usually one highlights either eyes or lips. But since staying put is exactly what I plan, out comes the Fire Engine Red L’Oreal lipstick. Next step: collecting toys. Retrieving red satin sheets from the hall closet to change the bedding. Then arranging everything on the bed: 8 coils of rope in varying lengths, two zip tie options, several scarves, my Pierre Silber patent pumps (6 inches), clover clamps, my vibrators with fresh batteries, and the object of desire—the new leather corset. Opening the bottom drawer of my wardrobe; today is special, so I choose a pair of seamed black nylons with Manhattan heels—my absolute favorites—and a garter belt. Hesitating between sheer see-through elbow-length nylon gloves or new shoulder-length latex ones. The latex mimics leather closely: textured and wrinkled at wrist and elbow like hide, yet fitting snugly as a second skin while making fingers appear long, thin, elegant rather than stubby and blocky compared to past leather/nylon pairs I’ve owned. Placing the latex gloves on the bed too. Setting out Lucky Strike filterless cigarettes, holder, ashtray, matches upon the nightstand. Today’s theme: kidnapped Baroness. Arranging a candle release using sewing scissors; suspended over the light fixture with thread trailing from bedroom around corner into study, tied to a shelf-mounted candle positioned high enough that bound hands can’t reach it. Also placing my husband’s folding pocket knife as backup release inside glass curio cabinet (locked). To access it later, I must sit before it and break the glass using heels. Setting the candle thread duration at roughly three hours then lighting it. Returning to bed sitting on satin covers removing clothing. Testing whether morning-run plan holds up. Inserting small vibrating companions: 8-inch front unit simulating manhood plus smaller 4-inch medium-width back intruder. Turning them on for test run…works perfectly! Taking rope length wrapping waist twice pulling ends down over first vibrator adding coils around it securing position. Pulling rope backward draping second companion like thong looping through rear waist tie bringing forward splitting strands running each side mound pushing items toward center vibrator. Changing order slightly until adapting to new corset: stockings then garter belt followed by pumps tying ankles with standard extra-long ropes knotting firmly adding loops beneath heels returning upward securing footwear above/below knees placing ties just over thickest thigh curve near hips avoiding full cinching pulling tight enough for slight digging into leg flesh because cinched legs stay slightly apart preventing nylon rubbing sensation during struggle. Sacrificing some hose quantity but gaining sensuality—worth it indeed! Tricky phase begins lying flat on bed wrapping corset around fastening front busk extracting slack laces scooting toward bathroom-side corner standing up bound tightly teetering atop towering stilettos hopping to bathroom door navigating near misses grasping doorknob shutting behind twisting back facing inward looping corset ties around knob leaning forward reaching hands adjusting repeatedly pulling against resistance achieving nearly 5 inch reduction emphasizing wonderful figure-enhancing qualities regardless body type BBW average slim movie starlet or lean muscular like me. Not speaking for men personally lacking CD acquaintances but expect similar results there too! Reattaching laces forming large bow center back stumbling slightly returning to bed close enough fall gracefully catching breath unhooking 6-tab garter tossing aside attaching eight suspenders hanging from corset deciding wrist coil next setting aside momentarily feeling naughty today rolling two pairs clean panties inside old scarf packing mouth carefully preserving lipstick realizing gag imminent mostly mental hurdle applying four strips medical tape covering nose chin slight overlap placed long white chiffon scarf over taped mouth resting chin on full bust (told you about amazing corsets) continuing…

Didn’t I pull the scarf tight and cross the ends behind my head, then bring them around the front of my face to firmly cover my lips once more? I yanked them hard toward the back of my neck and secured a solid knot. Next, I took that second scarf, folding it diagonally into a long triangle shape. I positioned it over my mouth atop the first one, with the point facing down in true detective fashion, pulled it snug, and knotted that off too. I shook my head slightly, trying to work the packing around with my tongue. I screamed out for help—my husband, who’s also a policeman, plus firemen and Superman—but all that emerged was a wonderfully muffled “mmmmppphhhhh.” Perfect.

I glanced up at myself in the mirror, quite pleased with how excited the image felt to me. I looped a long coil of rope around my body, positioning it just above and below my breasts. Pausing for a moment, I pulled one cup of my corset away from my tit and attached a clover clamp there. When I gently released the cup, I screamed into my gag; hopefully, the tightly laced corset would keep the clamp secure. To my chagrin—and adding just a bit more pain—it did hold firm. I debated whether to remove it or add another one. Ultimately, I decided to stick with it and applied the second clamp.

The payoff was approaching fast, though I wasn’t sure how much candle remained on me for release. I looped the zip ties onto their first few notches and laid them beside my wrist coil. Tucking a cigarette into its holder, I set it near the ashtray; things were about to get seriously restrictive.

I slid an elbow cinch rope under my arms, then squeezed my gloved forearms into the body coils at my breasts. Reaching around, I grabbed the ends of the free elbow cinch rope and pulled them behind me, crossing them by switching hands before bringing them back forward. I flipped the right end over my head so it crossed behind my neck, draped over my shoulder, and landed on my left breast. Did the same with the left rope: behind the neck and draping onto my right tit. Grabbing both ends, I began pulling them gradually.

As I worked the ropes slowly, the cinch loop encircling my body coils between my back and arms started tightening everything together while drawing my elbows backward. Lying on my side, I pushed one elbow back as close to the other as possible, using my hands to pull out any slack. Having done this countless times, I can actually get my elbows within a couple of inches of each other (I realize I still owe some of you a diagram or sketch of this setup). My bindings are quite secure now and I’m loving it, but those pesky hands of the Baroness remain loose.

We certainly can’t have that. With essentially only one arm usable at a time, I grabbed the matchbook and struck a match behind my back so both hands remained free to assist. Reaching around, I held the lit flame to the tip of the cigarette until it caught fire. Once burning steadily, I shook out the spent match and dropped it into the ashtray before picking up the cigarette by its holder. Waving it slightly ensured the ember glowed brightly; when bound and gagged, there’s no easy way to take a drag while checking for light.

I placed the cigarette in the ashtray where I could watch smoke curl lazily upward toward the ceiling. Scooting back into a comfortable spot centered on the bed proved easier said than done given my silky stockings against satin sheets. Twisting around, I switched on the frontal intruder—aaahhh yes—and lay down to stay put while activating the anal fiend.

Feeling for my wrist rope and zip ties, I wrapped the former around my left wrist—the one resting beneath me now. Threading the coils through a zip tie, then pulling those wrist ropes through four strands of crotch rope holding our vibrators in place… My wrist coil is nearly too small; passing it behind me through that crotch section reduced its opening size further. With considerable struggling, pushing, and folding my thumb inward as far as possible, my hand finally popped free! Reaching around again to tug on the zip ties: zip—I feel wrists tightening; zip—snug enough I couldn’t slip them off even if I wanted; zip—tight, no going back now.

Liking this moment for closing eyes after all that effort, relaxing while taking a mental inventory of these wonderfully sensual feelings. With friends buzzing merrily inside me, I opened my eyes again watching cigarette smoke drift from the holder’s tip as struggle began anew: rolling and flopping with maximum strength. Clover clamps shot brief jolts of pain every time I rolled onto them. Screaming repeatedly into my gag yielded only pleasantly muted sounds.

Hands secured tight despite fighting; kicking and tugging legs brought blissful sensations—one stockinged leg rubbing against the other, leather squeaking softly against rope. The Baroness scenario remains dear to me today as she was brutally taken while enjoying a cigarette in her parlor—gagged, bound hand-and-foot, helpless preventing ruffians from using her for obscene pleasures.

THE BARONESS HAS BEEN KIDNAPPED…again!

Such an thrilling, arousing session left me still quivering typing this. Husband looks set to get very lucky tonight; perhaps I’ll see the Baroness in trouble again tomorrow too! Such awful luck she seems to have being abducted 2-3 times weekly.

This is how selfbondage has been enjoyed for over twenty years now, changes occurring along the way but none more significant than discovering what an orgasm truly feels like—oh Honey, talk about rewards programs!