My Life-Changingly Embarrassing Day

Hi there! I’m new to this board and sharing a true story that changed my life F-O-R-E-V-E-R. It happened about five years ago, so let me set the scene.

I’ve been into selfbondage for as long as I can remember—even before fully understanding the term. Back when I was seven or eight, I made blindfolds from cardboard and string. By nine or ten, I used thick rubber bands to tie my wrists and legs together. The feeling was indescribable at the time.

At twelve, I discovered a travel sleeping mask and wore it for months every night, tightening the elastic until it finally gave out, which upset me greatly until I replaced it. It took another couple of years before I really understood why that sensation excited me.

By sixteen, my only motivation for getting my driver’s license was to go hunting for more blindfolds and sleeping masks! Hours upon hours spent “tied up” in these masks left creases on my skin the next morning. When I turned nineteen, I dove into online resources and bought my first gear: a pink rubber ball gag and a black leather blindfold.

Using techniques from “Lillian nexus” (I believe), I started with the “simple hogtie” and progressed to the “super hogite” within months, playing games to determine how many hours I’d spend bound. After college, I discovered JT’s stockroom and went crazy buying gear, finding a sanctuary where no one could bother me.

One lazy Sunday afternoon at my house (I lived alone), I decided on a three-to-four-hour session. I fastened all my leather cuffs, collar, gag, hood, and the cb2000 chastity device had its key dangling from the fridge next to a large ice cube in a coffee mug. Kneeling down, I locked my wrists to my ankles using a leash threaded through the cb2k lock.

I lay on my stomach in darkness, drooling for about an hour when suddenly… ding-dong! My heart raced! Then two knocks at the door. Through it came my father’s voice: “Can we come in? We just stopped by to drop off some food.”

Unfortunately, a few years prior when I bought this home with my parents co-signing, they kept keys for no particular reason and had never actually visited until today! I squirmed on the floor trying to shout “Just one second,” but only “mmpphh” came out. I tried moving to another room, which was hard because my arms and legs were numb from being bent; every wiggle pulled at the cb2k.

I managed to get into the utility room and waited in silence. Then… ring-ring-ring! My phone rang!

Through the spandex blindfold hood and trainer gag, I could barely hear my parents chatting outside while sweat poured down my naked chest. THEN, their voices came from inside! Shaking, I scooted into a corner of the laundry room—still kneeling, sweating, and drooling.

The footsteps approached. My heart pounded; my hands tingled, and my feet throbbed from tugging against the tightly locked leather cuffs. The cb2000 felt like burning clamps after being pulled through all those contortions. “Hello? Are you here??” they called out. Finally: “OH MY GOD!!!!!” (Parental screams!) “Who did this???!!!!”

It took about 30 minutes for them to locate the keys (I could barely push the gag aside with my tongue to speak), untie me, and retrieve my clothes.

Let me tell you, it was horribly embarrassing: bound, gagged, hooded, legs and arms secured in leather cuffs locked to a chastity device (with the cb2k key exposed!). My parents are fairly vanilla-type folks. Mom wanted to spend the night because I told her it was just a game played with a woman friend… Dad insisted for months that I needed therapy and church!