Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult by Jurgen von Stuka Page A

a rubber ball stuffed into my open mouth. It stretches my jaws wide and fills my mouth with the stale, bitter taste of sponge rubber. My hands are free while I do this, but in my head I am already well bound and helpless at the pleasure of the two men who are threatening me. They force me up onto my knees, cross my ankles and tie them with more rope. They then pull the end of the ankle rope up, forcing me to bend my knees, and slip the end of the rope through the single strand of rope that is behind my neck. This creates a strong and stressful hog-tie and I revel in it, even though they are not yet finished with me
           They use more rope to pull my ankles up closer to my butt and tie them to the multiple strands that cross my back. Tension on these ropes puts more stress on my chest ropes and again, I have to slow down and savor these sensations before I can continue.
           This strict hog-tie is probably my most useful tie and always gets me very hot. I flop around on the floor and lie there, struggling, panting, through my nose. The gag ball is now fully inside my mouth, held there by three or four leather straps that wind around my head and over my face, framing my nose and eyes and making me look like some sort of wide-eyed woman in white, captured and bound by people who want her for bondage games and evil, erotic sex. I can see myself in the floor-to-ceiling mirror on the wall and this helps almost as much as the DVD.
           Hog-tied, but still dressed, I use the remote to turn on the video and watch as some other poor woman is strung up by her wrists, gagged with strips of cloth stuffed into her mouth and fitted with a spreader bar between her ankles. She too struggles, cries and cannot get free. I can empathize with her. I am waiting for the two men to make their next move and it comes as they pull up my short skirt and pull my bikini panties down around my knees. Now I know why they haven't tied my legs…yet. Another prickly rope goes around my waist and is knotted tightly. I know what is coming now. The dildo with the lubricated condom slides into my cunt without resistance. It goes in smoothly and again the sensation is nearly overwhelming. I am doing this to myself with arms bound behind me and rope around both wrists. I push the dildo in as far as it will go and then search with my fettered hands for the ends of the waist rope. These are pulled down through my butt crack and carefully threaded through the hole in the dildoe's base. Then, I feed them between my legs and up through the front of the waist rope, pulling them tight and driving the dildoe another half inch up into my cunt. I moan into the gag, breathing hard, feeling the entire length of the fake dick seated deep inside me. Now I bring the remaining rope ends back once again through my soaking crotch, take one strand around one side of the deeply imbedded dildoe and one around the other side, framing the end of the rubber dick and pushing my lower lips harder into my pelvis. When finished, the twin rope ends are pulled through the waist rope in back and knotted twice.
           My imaginary captors are enjoying themselves, discussing at length whether or not to try to force another dildo into my ass. To improve their access to the area where they have been working, they push my now sweat-soaked dress up higher under my arms, exposing my bra and nearly freeing my breasts. In the front, they tie connecting ropes between the chest harness rope and the waist rope. When this is pulled tight, I feel the crotch rope cutting further into the space between my legs and forcing the dildo even deeper. The girls on the DVD continue their gag-muffled screams as well.
           I am sweating like a wrestler on TV. The cotton dress, my bra and hose are all salt-sweat-soaked. The men take a bit of pity on me and remove these remaining clothes and underwear, cutting with razors where necessary. Now I am naked except for the ropes and gag