Usually, I am really good at wriggling out of stuff. I’m fairly flexible and I have very little hands, which makes for relatively quick escapes from even the most ornate arrangements.

So, when I asked Craftsmate to tie me up and make escape as close to impossible as he could, I was still expecting to be able to get out in time to have lunch in an hour.

“Now, don’t go easy on me,” I chided.

That morning, Craftsmate heeded my request tenfold. He tied my wrists together with rope, ran one cuff through the rope, and tied the other off to the bedpost. He wrapped my arms, at the forearm and elbow, in duct tape. He tied my ankles together with rope and anchored it to the foot of the bed with a line of zip ties, which he seemed to delight in pulling tight until my body was stretched taut over the bed. He taped my vibrator against my clit and proceeded to loop my thighs in tape to prevent me from removing the vibrator. He then covered the knots in the ropes that held my wrists and ankles with tape and looped my hands in it until they were reduced to useless little fists. Finally, he blindfolded me and strapped on my ballgag before taping over it.

While I did manage to get the gag out of my mouth and shake the blindfold off, no amount of squirming could loosen any of the ropes or dislocate the tape. Although I had cleverly gotten Craftsmate to give me some water, which I proceeded to spit out onto the tape holding my forearms to loosen its hold, its removal made close to no difference.

What’s more, the vibrator on my clit was doing its job at keeping me distracted. I found I could not manage more than twenty minutes without having to stop struggling and just enjoy the feeling of it.

“That’s right, sweetheart,” Craftsmate would say with a smirk. “that’s right. You just take a little break.”

When I managed to get the tape off of my fists, Craftsmate only turned the vibrator onto high to make my task more difficult.

“Why don’t you just relax?” He asked, “you know you can’t get out. Why don’t you just enjoy this and endure the consequences of begging me to let you out?”

I was stubborn. Needless to say, I missed lunch and almost three hours later I finally begged him to let me go. In exchange, I have to allow Craftsmate to do this again.

Only next time, he says, he knows a few ways to make it “better.”

singlechair:

Gingerrkitten