How Melissa Blackmailed Me While I Was Bound to My Robotic Pole Tie

This is quite a tale, as one might expect from a story about how someone ended up owned by another. It started with me being found in a rather complex self-bondage setup and finished with blackmail. My preferred tie-up style is the “pole tie.” I have images of Gwendoline drawn by John Willie showing her securely fastened to both a tree and a post inside a barn. This particular configuration is tricky for self-bondage, but I had an idea. I decided to construct a robotic pole tie. The design would use motors to turn reels that tighten the ropes, ratchets to keep them in place once tightened, and an electronic mechanism to release it separately. I went through several design iterations. The base was a 6” by 4” post located in my basement. It was part of the house structure and completely rigid from top to bottom. The 6” width allowed me to press my elbows against the post without getting hurt. I prepared the post by sanding it until it was nearly polished smooth. My goal was to have my hands and lower arms pressed against each side of the post, with my body held tightly upright and completely immobile. The initial attempts failed naturally, as is common with most inventions. The motors were too weak. The ropes either didn’t stay tight or sagged into the wrong position. It’s easy enough to get a motor to turn on and off, but getting the details right is harder. I used a microcontroller board of my own design. I discovered how to switch the motors off using a force sensor. I found that 10 pounds of force on a rope was sufficient for tightness without causing pain. And when multiplied by 20 strands of rope, those ten pounds felt like being pinned down by a 200-pound wrestler. I discovered that nylon straps worked better for my needs than ropes. In the end, I used 2-inch straps. This allowed me to apply heavier tension because they distributed pressure over more surface area of my body. I utilized four straps to secure my hands and arms to the sides of the post and twelve to hold my torso. I will describe the mechanism as I explain how I got into it, then tell you about the blackmail. I set up a video camera on a tripod aimed at the post where I would be tied. I wanted to watch myself later. I programmed the controller to wait for 90 minutes after the straps were tightened before starting the release sequence. The camera had enough memory for roughly one hour, though the last half-hour might have been boring to watch regardless. I was wearing a black spandex body suit. I liked how it slid slightly against the post and how the nylon straps felt tightening over the spandex fabric. I had cut an opening in it for my cock, as it was more comfortable for an erection to protrude rather than being compressed inside. I also wore high-heeled ankle strap shoes and leather gloves that extended above my wrists. I turned on the camera and stood with my back against the post. One by one, I attached the straps, starting at my ankles and working upward through my body. The straps were secured to the post on one side, while buckling onto a take-up reel strap on the other. There was one strap at my ankles, two on my lower legs, two at the knees—one just below and one above—two more on my thighs, and five spaced along my torso. I was now held quite loosely against the post. There was some padding on the post where my neck and head rested. The padding was shaped to cradle my head against the surface. I had built in a gag and blindfold attached to the post. I stuffed cloth into my mouth and buckled a ball gag over it. This held my head upright and pressed against the post, just as I did with the leather blindfold. The hardest part was slipping my hands and arms behind my back through the straps, but I managed. I was ready. There was a tiny button switch hanging within reach of my fingers. I pushed the button and let it drop. First, the straps at my hands and wrists tightened. These held my fingers, palms, and wrists to the sides of the post. Then, the upper arm straps pulled my elbows against the post. The nylon straps slid smoothly over my gloved hands and spandex-covered arms as they tightened. I could hear the ratchets clicking, which assured me that everything was completely secure. The other straps also tightened, starting at my ankles and working up to my chest. I was locked in, held perfectly erect and immobile. It was perfect, and I knew I would remain there for the next hour and a half. Here is what went wrong. Melissa worked as clerical staff in my office. She became my unsuspecting emergency release. While I had confidence in my created mechanism, I wanted to be absolutely safe. I gave her a key to the house and concocted a story that she needed to pick up some paperwork. I told her to arrive at a specific time. However, I hadn’t counted on her suspecting something and arriving early, disrupting my plans. I had been enjoying my bound state for quite a while by then. I had no way of knowing how much of the 90 minutes had passed. I enjoyed twisting as much as possible (not very much) and feeling the slight movement of the straps over the smooth fabric. I was hot, hard, and looking forward to my release so I could relieve some sexual frustration. Then I heard the door open upstairs, followed by footsteps above me that eventually came down the stairs into the basement. I panicked naturally. I didn’t want to be ‘outed’ like this. Blindfolded, I had no idea what Melissa was doing (or even if it was her). I couldn’t speak due to the gag; I could only wait. “Well, isn’t this interesting,” she said. I could feel her presence close by. “You look like you are in a bit of a fix.” I heard her walking around and felt her hands on the straps. “Hmmm. Looks like this is meant to release you soon. Seems complicated. Wonder if it would still release you if I pulled out this wire?” Now I was truly panicking. Getting caught was one thing; getting caught by a sadist was quite another. Then, she took my cock in her hand. She squeezed it to frustrate me—not stroking it. This just added to my tension. She held it while taunting me. “Want me to let you out? Or maybe you want me to keep you tied up forever. Maybe that’s why you invited me over?” Then she let go. I could hear her in the room but couldn’t tell exactly what she was doing. Suddenly, I realized all of my “stuff” was right there and visible. I had whips, dildos, anal toys, an electro-stim wand, vibrators, handcuffs, miles of rope, leather straps, gags, blindfolds, chain, padlocks, and fetish clothing. I knew she was going through it all, discovering things about me that I didn’t want revealed. “What’s this?” she said. “Looks interesting.” Then I felt it. She was using the flogger—twenty or so leather thongs bundled into a whip with a braided handle. She started on the part of my buttocks not covered by the post. The fabric of my unitard cushioned the blows somewhat, but they still stung. She worked her way around to the front. It seemed she wasn’t specifically targeting my cock, though occasional stray thongs found it often enough for sharp pain. “You and I seem to have some tastes in common,” she said as she continued with the whip. Finally, she stopped. Holding my cock again in her hand, she whispered in my ear. “This is fun, and we will have to do it again. In fact, I insist. And, I am going to take the memory card from your camera. I want to see how you got into this position, and I think I might enjoy watching. Others might find it enjoyable as well. We can discuss that later.” She fiddled with the mechanism for a bit. The workings were pretty self-evident, so anyone could figure out how they operated. “I’ve given you a bit more time to enjoy yourself,” she said. Then she left. I heard her footsteps and then the door closing. I was alone again. I struggled in panic, of course with no result. I had no idea how long I remained tied there. Surely it was much longer than the original 90 minutes I had planned for. Finally, I heard and felt the release tak

The g-spot area. The ratchets tightened while the motors wound backwards at a slow pace. I managed to break free, barely standing up from the intense pressure. Removing my blindfold, I noticed immediately that the camera’s position had changed. After checking it closely, I verified the memory card was missing.

Melissa was sure to complicate things for me, though I hadn’t realized just how much trouble she’d cause. That reality would start becoming clear on Monday when I got back to work. I’ll share those details and what unfolded later in this saga’s next chapter.