Archive for pro-sub

Pro-sub

Posted in Fiction, Nonfiction with tags , , , , , on August 13, 2009 by scarlettbottom

Yesterday I had my first pro-sub gig.

Mostly it was very heavy bondage, no pain other than the soreness of very tight bondage over a long period of time. I spent three hours in various rope ties, as well as leather restraints. I had a great time. The following is a fictional story.

I’m gagged and blindfolded when I wake. I can feel rope around my wrists behind me and something is pulling my hair so my head is tipped way back. It’s very quiet. I don’t think anyone is in the room.

Feeling the length of the rope and the ties around my wrists, I find the end and slowly work out the first knot. With my eyes covered my sense of hearing is extremely heightened, but still there is no sound, not even breathing. The rope loosens around my wrists. It hurts to move my arm, but I remove the blindfold and gag. My fingers are tingling as the blood rushes back into them. I don’t know how long I’d been tied.

I take a deep breath and experimentally shift my legs. When you’ve been in one position for a long time it can be very difficult to move. I thought the was the problem, but it seems that my ankles are tied to my hair. My joints are a little creaky, but I manage to get the rope untangled from my hair and realize that my ankles are in cuffs, locked together.

The room is a typical motel room. I’m laying on a double bed. There’s a dresser and a tv and, I assume, a closet and a bathroom around the corner. It’s very dim. There is a bedside table lamp on behind me, but the rest of the room is dark. There’s something on the dresser across the room. Rolling over to my stomach, I stretch out my legs and point my toes for the journey. I skooch down to the end of the bed, and off, onto my knees on the floor. My ankles are pretty close together, so actual crawling is not really possible, but I slither over to the dresser on my belly, crawling on my elbows.

My jaw is so sore from the gag.

Pulling myself up using the edge of the dresser I manage a kneeling position and retrieve the tool- it’s a wire cutter. It’s not the ideal tool for the job, but I’ll make it work. The locks are a little too heavy duty for this tool, but if I just have time I’ll get through them. My hands are so tired and weak. After cutting just the center lock to separate my ankles, I give up. I’ll have to wear the shackles until my hands get back to normal, or I find a better tool.

I stand unsteadily, swaying slightly and return to the bed to rest. My joints are beginning to feel better so I stretch my muscles, my hands, my legs, my feet, my back. After a bit I’m feeling safe and much more comfortable so I find my clothes in the closet and get dressed. Glancing around the room, my attention is drawn to the lamp on the table. There, under the small circle of light is a stack of bills. I tuck that in my bra and leave the room.

S is standing outside. I collapse into his arms and he sets me down on the floor. “I need to go get the camera, babe. Go wait in the car. Here’s the keys.”