CLAMPED | nipples, handcuffs, gag bondage story

I dried my hair as I stepped out of the steam-filled ensuite bathroom and into the lavender-scented bedroom. Even though it was a typical British Autumn, the double radiator and the double glazing meant that the room was deliciously toasty. I hung my towel on the radiator and wandered over to the mahogany wardrobe, in which I still kept my collection of interesting bondage toys. Pauline was due home from work any minute, so I had to be fast in tying myself up for her pleasure...

But first, I needed something to wear. I fetched a pair of fishnet tights from a drawer along with a pair of obscenely-short cut-off jeans. I slipped into the former then the latter, loving the way the roughness of the latter contrasted nicely with the silky smoothness of the former. I closed my eyes and selected some items at random from the cardboard box at the bottom of the wardrobe: A pair of short lengths of rope, a pair of handcuffs, a pair of clover clamps attached by a chain. After a moment's thought, I returned the clover clamps to the box - even though we'd had them for a couple of months, I still found them far too painful for extended use. To make up for putting them back, I fetched a black leather collar, a big black ring-gag, a black blindfold and a pair of black leather FMB's and placed all these items on the bed. On a whim, I fetched a single fishnet stocking from a drawer - that would be useful later.

The first step was to pull on the knee-length, stiletto-heeled boots - my fishnet feet and calves slid easily inside them, and I couldn't help smiling as I pulled the zip up the side of each leg. Kneeling on the bed, I then used the first short length of rope to tightly tie my right fishnet thigh to my right leather ankle with a cinch knot. I shifted my position and tied the second rope the same way on my left leg, meaning that I could no longer stand. I moved around on the bed a little, testing just how much freedom I had. I couldn't balance myself on my feet since my heels kept sinking into the mattress and throwing me off-balance, but I could happily sit on my ass with my legs both sloping in the same direction, or assume a sort-of cross-legged lotus position. I could also lay on my side or, with some effort, move onto my tummy so my thighs were flat on the bed and my feet trapped a few centimetres above my buttocks. Plus I could part my legs, and reach behind me with my hand, and gently rub the crotch of my cut-off jeans... wow, that felt good... my other hand moved under my body to play with my nipples and a soft moan escaped my lips... I let my fingers explore my fishnet buttocks, pushing up under the tight denim... it felt so good... and then I stopped myself. It was feeling too good. And I had a bondage schedule to keep.

I changed my position, getting up onto my knees and shins, kneeling in the centre of the bed. I made sure that I knew exactly where the other items of bondage equipment were before I picked up the blindfold and pulled it over my eyes, completely blocking out the light. Next, I grabbed the fishnet stocking and pulled it over my head like a bank robber or burglar... this was designed so that with all my writhing, I wouldn't dislodge the blindfold from its position over my eyes. I gathered the fishnet around the base of my neck and fastened the black leather collar above it, to stop it riding up. The next stage was to open my mouth wide and pull the ring-gag into it, fastening it tight behind my head. I let my tongue experimentally poke forward, and it was met with an impenetrable wall of fishnet.

The last stage was to loop the handcuffs through the belt-loop at the back of my cut-offs, and quickly cuff my hands together behind my back. And there I was, helpless... and very horny...

Slowly and gently, I lowered myself onto my side - even though I was being careful, I still managed an involuntary tug of the back of my jeans, which caused the tight crotch to momentarily become even tighter... oooohhhh... I rolled onto my tummy, my breasts crushed against the soft mattress of the bed, and pushed my hands into the pockets at the back of my cut-offs... I gripped my buttocks as I writhed on the bed, moaning into the gag, drooling through the fishnet, utterly helpless, completely vulnerable... I imagined I was a burglar, intrigued by the interesting bondage toys I had found in the wardrobe... curiosity had got the better of this cat-burglar, and I had tied myself up... but I had gone too far and was now utterly helpless... and the owner of the house would come home any minute and find me... would it be a man, a woman or a couple? Would they free me, call the police or take complete advantage of my situation? I could feel my fingernails in my buttocks as I writhed on the bed, trying to rub my very moist crotch against the frustrating softness which retreated every time I pressed against it... I wondered if I could manouevre myself to the edge of the bed and rub against it without falling off... I shifted my weight, and became very aware of the hardness of my nipples. I rolled onto my right side, stopping myself with my feet and elbows, and took a breather - my breath was ragged panting, my body was covered in sweat and all I could think about was chasing that orgasm...

I almost jumped out of my skin as the perfect silence was interrupted by the sound of a key in the front door. Pauline was home. I heard her close the door behind her, hang up her coat and climb the stairs. She opened the door to the bedroom and gasped.

"Wow, looks like some nefarious burglar has fallen for the bondage trap again. What shall I do with you?"

She wasn't expecting an answer - she could see that I was gagged. Still, I obliged her question by mumbling a response into the gag, which mainly resulted in more drool soaking into the stocking covering my head. I felt her cold hand on the back of my neck as she guided my head towards hers and planted a huge kiss on my gagged lips - our tongues met either side of the fishnet and I discreetly tugged at my denim shorts as we kissed. Her other hand went to my breasts and her ice-cold fingers drew patterns on my chest, circling my nipples, making them even harder than they were before. She gripped my left breast hard in her cold hand, directing my nipple to her mouth - her lips were still cold but her tongue was deliciously warm... her other hand went down my bare back and slid inside my cut-off jeans to squeeze my fishnet buttocks.

She withdrew and rolled me onto my tummy - one of her hands was underneath me, playing with my nipples, while the other went behind me to part my legs and rub my crotch through two layers of clothing... I began to grind myself on her hand, finally getting the stimulation I craved, moaning loudly into the gag, wriggling with pleasure as I felt her thumb press hard against me... and then she stopped.

"There's something missing..." she said, pushing me back onto my side.

I felt her get off the bed and heard the creak of the wardrobe opening. A second later, I heard the distinctive rattle of a chain. She sat on the bed, in front of me, and gently rubbed my nipples. I knew full well what she was going to do... she had obviously found the clover clamps. I shook my head furiously, and moaned into the gag - my super-sensitive nipples felt like they would explode if she put the clamps on them!

"Don't you want the clamps?" she asked.

I shook my head.

"I really don't think that that's your decision to make... you're the one who tried to burgle my house, after all..."

I could imagine the expression of cheeky mischieviousness on her face. Complete with evil grin and glint in the eye. I shook my head again.

Her reply was to continue to rub my nipples, getting them nice and hard for the forthcoming clamping. I had to take action. I hummed our safe-tune (the original theme tune to the Fast Show if you must know: Please release me, set me free...).

"Oh," was all Pauline replied, before she quickly removed the gag, collar, stocking and blindfold.

I blinked in the light and smiled at her: "Thanks."

"You really don't like these?" she asked, holding up the clover clamps.

"You know I'm a complete wuss when it comes to pain. One day, I might get used to them. But I find them far too painful to wear for any length of time."

"These little things? Painful?" she asked, raising an eyebrow, opening and closing the clamps so they looked like little hungry mouths.

"If they're so tame," I grinned, "why don't you wear them?"

"Okay," she said, "I will."

And, with that, she unbuttoned her blouse and threw it onto the floor. I scooted back on the bed (my wrists and ankles still bound) as I watched her undress. Her white bra came next, releasing her impressive 36D breasts from their confinement (it's always a pleasure watching them spring forth like that). She kicked off her shoes and removed her miniskirt and her tights. Last, she pulled her teeny-tiny g-string down her tanned legs and tossed it into the corner of the room. She then turned her attention to her breasts, gently rubbing her nipples to get them hard, but I felt it necessary to stop her.

"You're not having it so easy," I smiled, from the head of the bed, "I want you to be in bondage for this."

"But..."

"If those clamps don't hurt, I don't see why there should be any trouble..."

"Okay. How do you want me?"

"Hmmm, stockings and suspenders. Strappy heels. G-string. All black."

"Who's in charge here anyway?" she asked, but carried out my request anyway - she fetched the clothes and put them on.

"Next, I want you to fetch a length of black rope from the wardrobe. Oh, and a short length of chain, a padlock and a pair of handcuffs. Good. Now, tie the rope around the base of each breast. Tight. I want to see them swell by at least three cup-sizes. Look at that, they're reddening already. Now tie it off. Excellent. Take the nipple clamps and put the middle of the chain at the back of your neck, draping the clamps over your shoulders so they go down to your breasts. Good. No, don't attach them yet, that will happen in just a minute. Grab the other length of chain and loop it to the clamp chain at the back of your neck. Excellent. Let the ends hang down to the middle of your back, and reach up behind you as high as you can and padlock the ends together. You're doing great. You'll need to hold the clamps, since the weight of the chain might pull them over your shoulders. Now, get the handcuffs and hang them from the loop of chain you've just made in the middle of your back. Good, you're almost ready. Now, you can attach the clover clamps to your nipples..."

I watched as she did just that - her breasts were slightly swollen and red already, and it didn't taken long for her to rub her nipples into hardness. Pulling against the weight of the handcuffs hanging down her back, she attached the clamps to her nipples from above, letting out a small gasp as each tiny clamp gripped her nipple firmly. Before she got second thoughts, I gave her her next instruction:

"Put your hands up behind your back and fasten the handcuffs around your wrists. Perfect."

And there she was, sitting on the edge of the bed, in her sexy black lingerie, her breasts bound, her nipples firmly clamped and her wrists cuffed... she shifted her weight to get comfortable, and let out a little groan as she pulled on the handcuffs, which in turn pulled on the chain which pulled on the clamps, which momentarily tightened their grip on her tortured breasts.

"Ow..." she said, trying very hard not to pull on the handcuffs - unfortunately for her, it was uncomfortable for her to keep her arms up in the small of her back, so she repeatedly tugged down on the chain without even thinking about it, adding further pain to her tortured breasts.

I grinned, still bound at the head of the bed, as I watched her try not to struggle. There was a tear in her eye as she concentrated on keeping perfectly still and ignoring the intense pain from the harsh clamps biting her tender nipples.

"Okay," Pauline moaned, after just a minute, "I take your point. These are vicious little things. Can I take them off now?"

"Sure," I replied, grinning even more (and barely suppressing a giggle) - she didn't know the true devilish deviousness of my plan yet.

She stood up, gingerly, and made her way over to the wardrobe. She knelt carefully in front of the box and peered inside.

"Where are the keys?" she asked, her voice containing a slight hint of panic.

"At the bottom of the garden!" I said, unable to contain myself now as I launched into a complete giggle fit.

"You bitch!" she moaned, "There's still hours to sunset! The neighbours would see me! I can't go out like this!"

"I know!"

She sat on the edge of the bed, and squealed as the clamps bit into her nips even harder. She inched over towards me.

"You couldn't possibly release me, could you?" she asked.

"My fingers are numb from the handcuffs and my jaw aches from the gag," I smirked, "I'm in no position to release those clamps from you."

"I'll get you for this," she said.

"Oh, I hope so," I grinned.

She looked down at her red breasts and blew cool air onto them, but I knew from experience that it made very little difference. Then, she got to her feet and left the room, without a word. I was puzzled. I wondered what she was up to. I decided to find out.

I rolled onto my tummy, and stretched my hands out, gripping my ankles. I let my fingers explore the ropes, and my fingertips found my expertly-tied knots. It took a few minutes to loosen them, but eventually they were off and I could straighten my legs. I got to my feet, a little unsteadily, and turned my attention to the handcuffs. They were firmly locked onto my wrists, and I could twist my arms enough to reach the button at the front of my cut-offs - I was as released as I was going to be by my own hand. I needed the handcuff keys from the bottom of the garden too.

I used my nose to part the curtains and looked down into the back garden. I almost swore when I saw Pauline there, in broad daylight, crouching behind a bush - still wearing what she was wearing when she left the bedroom. Even from my distant vantage point, I could see the redness of her breasts, the glint of the handcuffs binding her wrists and the very sexy stockings and suspenders on her legs. I wondered if any of our neighbours were watching from their houses. I wondered if any of them could tell what she was up to. I felt a rush of adrenaline as she moved - I admired her bravery, her courage, her derring-do. She was actually going to go to the bottom of the garden in broad daylight to fetch the handcuff keys! Those clamps really must hurt...

The bush Pauline was crouching behind was about halfway down the garden. It didn't offer much cover from onlookers, and I wondered why she had chosen it. And then I saw one of our neighbours, walking slowly up and down his garden. What was he up to? Perhaps he had come out of his house and surprised her - the bush was the only cover near her, so perhaps it was the best she could do. I was transfixed as I continued to watch the little tableau. What would happen if he saw her? How would she explain herself? Just the thought of her being discovered in such a compromising position was a turn-on, and I pulled at my handcuffs... relishing the sensation of the crotch of my cut-off jeans tightening around my pussy...

What would really happen if the sexy bloke who lived next door found her like that? Would he take complete advantage of her? And would she mention the fact that I was helpless inside the house, handcuffed to my jeans, just waiting to be carried away to some dark dungeon somewhere for absolute pleasure beyond any measure?

To my disappointment and Pauline's relief, our neighbour went back inside his house. Pauline took the opportunity to creep the rest of the way down the garden and locate the keys before returning to the safety of her bush. I watched her struggle with the keys in the handcuffs for a couple of minutes before she finally released herself... her first act of freedom was to remove those clamps. As the blood flooded back into her nipples, she almost collapsed and I could even hear her moan through the double-glazing. She walked back towards the house, untying the rope from her breasts... and it was then that I realised she was probably thinking about revenge. Unfortunately, the keys to my release were in her hands...

She entered the room, her breasts still red as she closed the distance between us and grabbed my arm.

"You've been a very naughty girl, you little minx," she growled, pulling me to the door to the ensuite bathroom.

I tried to protest my innocence but she pushed a ballgag between my lips. Ignoring my muffled pleas, she undid the handcuffs on my wrists and quickly attached my wrists to a pair of door-hangers, before closing the door on them, effectively trapping my hands above my head to the top of the door. I was feeling too weak and horny to fight her. She reached down and pulled my left leg up, so that my knee was level with my hip. She smiled at me, and looped the clamp chain underneath my knee. She pulled the chain upwards, my leg following (and me trying to balance on my right foot - well, my right toe and right stiletto heel, anyway) and attached the evil clover clamps to my poor little nipples... I whimpered into the gag - I had to keep my knee in the air to relieve the pressure on my nipples, but I wouldn't be able to keep it up forever. I would get tired very quickly in this position.

"Now, I hope you will take this opportunity to think about what you have done. I'll be back in a few minutes to tickle you mercilessly."

And, with that, she left me to fight a battle against gravity that I could never win...