Chapter 1 - Introducing Bob Kowalski
Determined that this would be his finest-ever bondage toy and the stage on which he would act out the best of his incredibly erotic bondage scenes, Bob built his pillory with all the tender loving care usually lavished by a craftsman on fine furniture. This project had occupied three months of weekends and evenings: dreaming and planning, sketching, layout, selecting wood and hardware, cutting, finishing, and finally assembly.
The pillory was, in the best tradition of abusive furniture, both forebodingly attractive and ominously functional. Made of choice hardwood, with gleaming brass fasteners and hinges throughout, it stood nearly seven dark feet tall with two sturdy uprights between which slid smoothly the two halves of the headlock; in the two halves of the headlock were the three mandatory circular cutouts in which the neck and wrists of the subject would be firmly imprisoned.
An eight-foot-long bench stretched out behind the uprights; covered with leather, it was equipped with straps and sixteen solidly anchored rings equally spaced down its length to which various ropes and other implements could be anchored. At the bench's far end was a hand-cranked windlass to which were attached the cuffs of a rack, on the other a matching set of cuffs with which to anchor the reluctantly-willing subject. Depending on Bob's mood, the subject could either be bound in the traditional position of standing in the pillory, be bound kneeling on the bench with his (or her) neck and wrists held captive in the pillory, be bound lying flat and most available on the bench, or could be stretched to the limit of his or her choice on the rack.
The headlock adjusted up or down to imprison (or to accommodate, depending on how he looked at it) a subject from four feet tall (which he really didn't anticipate) to six feet eight inches tall (of which he only fantasized) and could tilt to a horizontal position to imprison a 'victim' either standing or kneeling in front of the pillory or kneeling on the bench.
The lower gate of the headlock could be slid up and down and then locked in a number of positions with thick wooden pins which facilitated the pillory's adjustability. The upper gate was hinged to the lower gate on one end and at the other could be locked closed wither with a pin or a padlock (impressive overkill, since the one enclosed would of course be unable to reach the pin to remove it).
Bob planned on playing some of his bondage games alone: selfbondage masturbation could be incredibly powerful and was certainly not his 'last resort'. He had carefully engineered a fail-safe electrically-operated timer, and his 'Electronic Mistress' would allow him to bind himself in true helplessness. When the timer was set and the pillory's headlock closed, a spring would drive home the wooden pin, locking the upper gate securely. When the allotted time expired, the timer released a small weight which in turn caused a larger weight to be dropped, and the force of that weight was ample to release both the pillory gate's pin and the victim.
Finally, after two days of careful assembly and last-minute adjustments, Bob 'took it out for a test drive', documenting his triumph on 35MM film. An experienced semi-pro photographer, Bob mounted his Canon on a tripod after loading it with high-speed black and white film, turned on all the lights in his garage dungeon to obviate the use of a flash (which in his opinion gave an artificial feel), attached a long cable release to the shutter, and set its timer so pressing the shutter would start the timer and pop the shutter after ten seconds.
Bob quickly got naked, setting his clothes carefully out of the camera's field of view on the dryer (admittedly out of place in a dungeon, but he had to make SOME concessions to normality). He also temporarily removed a critical pin from the side of the pillory gate, just for the purposes of photography. He didn't want to have to wait for the timer to count down before releasing him for the next photograph; that wasn't the purpose of this bondage session! Enforced delay was for heightened passion, not for a new photographic experience.
For his first commemorative shot, a simple 'pilloried helplessness' shot, he held the cable release in his left hand and knelt naked on the bench. Holding the gate open with the upper gate resting on the back of his neck, he positioned his wrists in their slots. He lowered his neck until he felt the gate closing and restricting the movement of his head. He continued, of course, allowing the weight of the upper gate to press it down against its mate.
Bob pressed the shutter release button and waited, in his imagination helpless before his beautiful dominant Mistress as the camera stared between the uprights of the pillory at his nakedness. As he flicked the cable away with his fingers and the light on the camera blinked, he smeared a look of chagrined submission on his face and waited until he heard the shutter open and close. Then he lifted the pillory's gate to release himself and walked to the camera. (This easy release on whim, of course, is the curse of the auto-bondage enthusiast, both necessary and self-defeating, but Bob had part of that curse licked electronically.)
For his second shot, Bob moved the tripod and camera to the side of the pillory and repeated the process. This time he took a pair of spring-loaded clamps from his 'toy box' and locked them securely on his nipples. Then he resumed his position and again 'locked' his neck in the pillory before pressing and flicking aside the cable release. As the timer's light started to blink, Bob wiggled his chest, feeling the clamps wiggling back and forth on his nipples. He stopped as the light blinked rapidly; even with high-speed film, motion would cause blurring, and he wanted excellent photographs.
For his third shot, Bob spent a bit more time preparing. He knelt on the bench and strapped his legs to the steel eyes at its sides. Then he tied a slipknot in a short cord with a two-pound weight at the other end and pulled the loop snug around his balls. With moderate carefulness, he half-lowered and half-dropped the weight off the end of the bench; the mass jerked the rope tight, jerking his balls forward. The nipple clamps were still locked to his nipples, thoroughly anchored in his tit meat by this time. By the time he was ready for the picture, he sported a prominent erection, but (knowing much better was coming) he resisted the urge to give himself a quick ejaculation. After the shutter popped, he released his legs and (carrying up the two-pound weight in one hand) reset the camera for shot #4.
For his fourth shot, Bob tilted the pillory's headlock to its horizontal position and stood back against the pillory. Bending down, he strapped his legs apart, binding his ankles and knees to the uprights of the pillory. Pulling a strap from one upright around his waist and locking it to the other upright, and with the two-pound weight swinging slowly between his legs, Bob leaned his neck back against its recess, pressed his fingertips down against the top gate, and eased it back to its closed position. He assumed an appropriately submissive posture with his hands ‘cuffed’ behind his back and then squirmed within his bonds. The pain of the nipple clamps' twisting at his flesh brought a real grimace of pain to his lips, a grimace that lasted until the shutter clicked.
Bob continued through the 24-exposure roll of film and much of the 'toy box' which he had amassed over several years of self-bondage games - chains and straps of various weights and lengths, hand and ankle cuffs, dildos and butt plugs of varying lengths and styles, gags (pump-up gags, ball gags, penis gags... being silenced was very important to his games) and other items of B&D pleasurepain.
For his final shot, Bob replaced on the side of the pillory the latch which he had removed earlier and set his 'Electronic Ursula' (a suitably Teutonic name befitting a dominant Goddess) for half an hour - plenty of time, he figured, to complete his auto-bondage, get locked away in the pillory, squirm for a bit, and take the picture. Then, with a thought of "If some is good, and more is better, then too much ought to be just about right" (an old hot-rodder’s rule of thumb used when it same to deciding how much metal to remove when boring out an engine block), Bob reset the timer for sixty minutes. He was horny!
Smiling with anticipation, Bob began his bondage by muffling himself with a favorite fat rubber ball gag (it spread his jaws just the tiniest bit too much) and buckling tightly around his head the leather strap which skewered it. A few tentative cries for help produced just about enough sound to disturb an irritable Doberman - just the effect he wanted. He could hear his cries inside his head, and that's all that mattered at this point.
He proceeded to clamp his nipples (still tender from their perhaps overly vigorous clamping in shots 12 through 15), this time with a pair of bobby pins. The ends of these normal-looking pins were pressed together by a slim metal sleeve which, as he slid it down the pin towards his tits, pressed the tips together so hard that the tips of the pins almost met through his flesh. This hurt a lot, so much that his hardon started to wilt, but he knew he could repair that.
Bob smeared a dab of K-Y jelly on his fingertips and shoved two fingers knuckle-deep into his butt to lubricate his asshole. Then he pulled them smoothly out, feeling his sphincter open and close around his knuckles, and wiped his slippery fingers on a fearsome looking 18-inch-long, inch-and-a-half thick double-dong he's bought years ago for somebody else... He abruptly broke off his angry thoughts of that 'somebody else' before he wiped his fingers on the dong's shaft and brutally screwed its flared head slowly and firmly into and far up his ass. This was his most extreme penetration of his own asshole; he'd done it only twice before. He hesitated for a moment as the widest part of the dong, its head, stretched his asshole to the breaking point, but then he pressed firmly until the head slipped in. First a tiny fraction slid past his sphincter, and then two inches of rubber skidded up into his belly. He pressed on until the head bottomed out somewhere close to his throat, or at least it felt that way.
By now sporting an incredible hardon, he picked up a leather-sack ball-stretcher, slipped it up under his balls between the double-dong protruding from his ass and his own cock, wrapped it gently around his eager balls, and secured it tightly around the top of his ballsack. His balls were squeezed solidly (and of course uncomfortably) down into their sack; when he let go of the sack, he felt the pull of the steel weight at the bottom of the sack.
One final home-built item of ecstasy-agony: over the swollen head and the last inch (the head and not much more) of his cock he slipped a device he called 'his lead condom'. It was really made of lead, was half an inch thick, weighed two pounds, and naturally permitted his cock no sensation at all. After he slipped the head of his cock into its opening, he closed it and turned a thumbscrew at its side to clamp it down just as hard as he wanted - actually a bit more than he wanted, just as a Mistress might do. He gave the thumbscrew that final twist and lowered his now-much-too-heavy cock. With every move, the lead condom swung back and forth, twisting and pulling at the end of his cock.
Finally, Bob blindfolded himself by pulling a favorite pair of panties over his head, a pair left to him by a just-slightly-kinky lady with whom he was still trying, after almost a year, to build a mutually satisfactory relationship. These panties, definitely larger than the photogenic teenager size, still carried Sharon-scent even after several hard auto-bondage ejaculations. Their size was an advantage: his head was surrounded by Sharon-scent which was locked in as he wrapped a four-inch-wide Ace bandage around his head and face.
Working by feel now, he lifted the pillory's upper gate and positioned his neck and wrists in the lower cutouts, with the upper gate resting heavily on the back of his neck. He felt his weighted cock swaying slowly as the long double-dong hung out of his asshole. He slowly lowered his head until he heard the gate latch close with a well-tested "SNAP!" Every time before this had been a test run with a critical pin removed so he could, with a simple shrug of his shoulders, loosen the headlock. This was the first time he had been truly helpless in the grasp of his own device. He squirmed briefly for several minutes, feeling the solidity with which his wrists and neck were grasped.
"Electronic Ursula" and his knowledge of his own utter helplessness had, of course, the desired effect. His breath came quickly, fueling the heat which his body generated. His chest heaved, the nipple clamps swaying to and fro. And his cock swelled, except, of course, for its final inch. The shaft bulged out around the unyielding ‘condom’ which held prisoner the swollen head of his cock. Finally, almost mad with lust, he pressed the shutter release, flicked it away, and with a last burst of restraint waited for its "snick!" before resuming his struggling.
"Snick-snick!” The shutter clicked, but Bob could, of course, go nowhere. He immediately resumed his lustful squirming. When he squirmed, he felt the 'lead condom' both pulling hard at the head of his cock and rigidly crushing it, and he of course struggled harder. Struggle lustfully he did, with no further reason to hold still. After perhaps fifteen minutes of struggle (energetic but of course useless - wasn't that the whole point?), the weight on the end of his cock, the strap around his balls, his nipple clamps, his writhing, his imagination, and his imaginary Mistress Ursula had the desired effect, his balls erupted and pumped his liquid frustration out through his cock. He bellowed against his gag, his hips jerked, the double-dong swinging in his asshole, as his aching, frustrated balls spurted his cum enthusiastically into the heavy, rigid, unyielding lead condom. It oozed slowly back out through the condom’s carefully smoothed joints.
However, the time passing until 'Electronic Ursula' released Bob seemed very long indeed. He beginning to wonder if something had gone wrong, even though he'd tested everything so many times, and was about ready to enter the dangerous 'desperation' phase when he heard Ursula's "click-thump-THUMP" and felt the pillory's headlock relax its grip just a fraction. After he was finally able to lift the pillory's gate off his neck, Bob carefully removed his wrists and then gently detached and removed the cum-slimed condom from his sensitive cock.
The next 'toys' to be removed from his body were the double-dong, which by this time felt like a red-hot ingot as he pulled it clear of his reamed-out belly. Next came the nipple clamps; he groaned as his tits burned when the pressure on them was relieved and the circulation returned.
Finally, he unstrapped his legs, stood up unsteadily, wiped up the puddle of his juices with his shorts, and threw them aside. Then he wiped off the toys, put them away, and carefully took down the camera before heading upstairs for a hot shower and then to bed.
Early the next morning, Bob dropped off the roll of film at the Fremont Lucky store for develop-and-print. He knew all their work went to a huge shop in the far-East Bay, and they didn't ask questions. Besides, his stuff was milder than some of the things he could buy at the corner liquor store's magazine rack.
story continues in Mistress Ellen’s Academy 2