13 comments/ 14549 views/ 11 favorites An Act of Restraint By: MirrorsImage I suppose your average person would have rushed inside, all concerned. Maybe called the police for help. Course, an average person probably would have been working and not have shown up early. Nor would an average person have an OCD complex about trash and walked all the way across the yard to pick up a small piece of garbage that the wind must have deposited there. I'm lucky in the sense that I have a job with some flexibility. Basically it works out that if I feel that I've gotten my work finished I can take time off. As a general rule, my work is more than done. If it weren't for the need to watch over my subordinates, I could probably take all of next week off if I wanted and still have a cushion of work done. All I did today though is leave at lunch. It's Friday and I'm hanging out with a friend for the next couple of days, thought I could start the weekend five hours early. I did mean to call and say I was on the way sooner than expected, but there were a few calls from the office regarding the mundane before I could. By the time I was done with those, the trip was halfway through and I was lost in my own world of dealing with idiots. So I didn't call. It might have turned out differently if I had. Hell, knowing her as I do, I never would have had an inkling. By the time I arrived in town, I was thinking about a couple of restaurants to visit, even a walk I wanted to take. It's different here. I'm different here. And I'm aware that so is she. We accept each other as is with no reservation. Schedules were never made during the few times we get together. If one had plans, the other could care less and went about their business. More often or not, we'd end up just hanging out, laughing, and sometimes talking into the wee hours of the morning about absolutely nothing. She's already here. I pull in behind her car and turn off the engine, glancing at the house. She's probably already hit the store and stocked up on food and drink, maybe even unpacked in her room. I have to smile to myself as I grab my phone and planner. It's been like this forever it seems, we each have our own room. We've fallen asleep together, curled up and cuddled together ... but it was always fully clothed, the friendship never tilted either way for anything else to happen. I had gotten out of the car and was going to get my bag from the trunk when I saw the cup. Not even a red Solo cup; this was one of those Styrofoam things for coffee. One of those unnecessary evils, I can't stand them. So, instead of getting my bag and heading into the house, I cross the lawn to pick up the offending hazardous waste on my lawn. Which is why I'm now standing here, weighing my options. The views of the windows on this side of the house are blocked from the street and neighbors by the trees. It's spring now, the leaves on the trees are tiny pale green and filling in. I admit I probably wouldn't have looked in the house windows if I hadn't stopped for a moment to stand and take a look at the new spring foliage. Smell the roses so to say. Taking in deep breaths, can't say I feel the stress melting away ... but it's nice here. Looking up in the trees, I turn and look at the house. Might as well make sure everything is ok with the exterior, check that nothing has to be done after the severe winter we had. And that's when I see her. From where I'm standing I can see the doors leading into the study from the hall. The entrance to the room is large, pocket doors normally shut have been pushed back into the walls leaving the area wide open ... and she's standing in the center of the doorway. Standing isn't quite accurate. Hanging might be a better word, but I won't know until I get a closer look. The only thing keeping me from responding to my initial sense of alarm and rushing in are what look like two clear blocks hanging from what might be a bracket that hangs down from the doorframe to where her hands are attached. Her head has fallen back, I can't really see it from here, but that's easily remedied. Removing my phone from my pocket, I almost call her cell, but decide to dial the house instead. I want to make sure she hears the message that I leave to give me an advantage. No, I'm not sure what advantage I need ... but if I'm right, I suddenly very much want one. I can feel myself actually getting pissed off and as odd as it might seem, I'm almost hoping that someone else has put her in this position. The machine is on the desk near the window and I can see the light turn on with the incoming call. At the first ring of the phone on the desk, she turns her head and I can see the blindfold covering her eyes and the gag that's twisting her lips. She's not panicking, just seems to be listening. That's reassuring in itself, but the phone call is twofold though. It's going to give me a better idea of what's going on and let me know if anyone else is in the house. After four rings, no one else moves and the answering machine picks up and I speak in an easygoing tone. "Hey Chickie, are you there? Pick up." Of course she isn't going to pick up, but she doesn't struggle against her bonds either. She stiffens, her head coming up, turning towards the phone as if she's listening. This is becoming more interesting. "Things are moving along faster than usual. So ... ah, I'll be out of here about an hour earlier than we talked about. Call me if you can." I can see her unmoving, head still turned towards the phone. For a second I regret my choice of words, I should have said when you can instead of 'if'. We play with words, seeing if the other can pick up on small innuendos. It's a game, usually in with a sexual slant to see if we can get a rise out of each other. Mainly a way to joke and at this stage of our lives we're pretty good at it. I wait, wondering if she's caught it, in my mind's eye I can imagine her laughing at my choice of words. Then her head falls back again and she seems to relax. I turn off the phone and put it back in my pocket, forcing myself to calm down as I watch and waiting. After a couple of minutes she hasn't moved and I haven't seen any other movement, now I smile to myself. If only she realized. Instead of being there at 7, I've told her 6. It's now around two. Taking one more look at her from the outside, I decide the door on the other side of the house would be the quietest way to enter. Walking around, I try to weigh my options, wicked thoughts dancing around in my head. In the end though, I know that I'm not going to break her trust in our friendship. Well ... not much. The door isn't locked ... not a good thing for her but it does open silently, closing with a quiet push of air and a soft click. My annoyance increases ... unsupervised and stupidity? The odds are slim, but any Tom, Dick or Harry could have come in off the street. The house is silent, no movement, and no acknowledgment of my arrival. Removing my coat and hanging it quietly over the back of a chair, I opt for stocking foot on the wood floors. I nudge my shoes off and head for the front of the house through the living room as quietly as I can. The front entrance to the living room opens up to the hall, directly across from the den. A quick look at her hanging there confirms what I already suspected. She did this to herself. My dear friend is into self-bondage. The first instinctive emotion I allowed myself to feel outside was anger. As far as I'm concerned, bondage should be supervised. Self-bondage can be dangerous, not to be fooled around with lightly or by amateurs. I have a good mind to take her down, bend her over and paddle some sense into her, friend or not. And as much as I enjoy giving a good spanking, I'm pretty sure the one I'd give her wouldn't be enjoyable for either of us. I'm actually surprised at myself at the impulse and have to mentally stop myself and calm down for a moment before I get closer. My next emotion as I step forward to examine the rig she has would be disappointment. Not in what she was using, but in the fact that she never told me about this. It's obvious as I look over what she's using that this isn't just a passing fancy. We may not have spoken about it in depth, but she's aware of my personal activities. She's never once mentioned her interest in passing, let alone in depth in conversation. And lastly ... I'm impressed. Somewhat reluctantly, but I am impressed. I was going to growl at her, scare the hell out of her for being stupid ... but after a quick look over, this initially seems to be well thought out. Right down to the waterproof lipped circle thing she has on the floor beneath her feet. Perhaps I should hold off on saying anything and see how this plays out. After arguing with myself for a moment, I decide, that's the best course of action for now and start examining her and the equipment she's using. After all, I've got the weekend with her to ... discuss ... the topic she's presented. First of all, she's fully dressed. Light colored jeans and a white collared shirt. Barefoot, no belt, sleeves rolled up to almost her elbows and her hair pulled back into a ponytail. Pretty much what she wears each time we get together. The shirt is untucked and because of her stance, I can see a little of the skin of her stomach. Drawing in a quiet breath, I refrain from the temptation of touching that small area of skin with my fingertips and move to look at her from the side. Another note I make to myself is the ... kiddy pool she's standing it. It's not quite a kiddy pool, but some form of vinyl with a lip around it. About 48 inches around, it's another sign that this isn't her first rodeo. It obviously would fold up quickly, similar to those round baskets that collapse in upon themselves and be able to be tucked away without much trouble. The vinyl catches the water that drips from above and I turn my attention to the rigging above her head. I finally get to examine the hanging clear blocks I saw through the window. As I suspected, they're made of ice, string looped inside each block and a key hanging at the end of each string. As the ice melts, the string slowly comes free and straightens, allowing the key to drop to where she would be able to reach it. One block is slightly bigger than the other; the purpose would be taking a little more time to melt but would still drop a key. Kind of a backup plan to be released it would seem. Both of these blocks of ice were attached to points of a hinged clamp that rested above the door frame. It almost looks like ice tongs, or the clamp that used to come with one of those kids bouncy seats that you'd hook up to the doorframe. Definitely modified, the clamp ends itself are padded, guessing that is so there are no marks left on the wall or frame. That comes down to the first bend in the arm of the clamp where the ice blocks are attached. Both arms curve inwards to hinges that have an adjustment screw to lock them in position, then to a pivot point crisscrossing on a then back out to about a 10" spread where her wrists are cuffed. A turnbuckle and rods seem to hold the clamp apart firmly, fastened by bolts to the steel of the clamp. The cuffs are soft leather, padded. Her arms are extended comfortably over her head, fingers probably a few inches from her hair when her head is held upright. There is enough room inside the cuffs for her to twist slightly, but not pull out. Each cuff is buckled closed over her wrists, a small padlock on each to keep her from stretching her fingers and unbuckling herself until the keys are available. I can't see any other way for her to get out of those cuffs than with a key. Her head is leaning back now; I can look at her profile and the headgear that she's chosen. The blindfold is leather, almost a cat's eye design. I'm guessing that its fur lined as I try to peek at the edges, the fur keeping her from opening her eyes behind the leather. Suddenly she turns her head towards me, stiffening in her bonds. Frozen, I try not to breathe ... realizing that her other senses must be heightened after the time of losing her sight. Did she hear me or did I accidently breathe on her. It does though give me a good look at the gag that twists her mouth. Silicone bit gag, forcing her jaw apart and keeping her lips open. As much as I enjoy a variety of gags in my playmate's mouth, I'm pleased to see she chose this one. A ball gag would be the one most see and would try, but I'd be concerned about her breathing if anything happened since she's alone. This allows for a good amount of air in and out. I have to give her points for that choice. Her head moves slightly, almost as if she's turning it to catch the slightest sound. Standing less than two feet from her, I don't dare move and keep my breath shallow ... I really don't want her to know I'm here just yet. It takes a little over 12 minutes, but she must have decided that it was her mind playing tricks on her as she relaxes, her head falling back again. I'm not stupid though and very carefully and quietly move back into the center of the hallway to draw in a silent breath. That's when I see the timers on the hall table. Digital, one has 17 minutes left on it, the other 45. This is another sign that she's done this before. I'm assuming that she's timed the blocks of ice and their melt rate. The smaller block to her left hand would be the 17 and the larger one to her right would be the 45. And I'm not supposed to be here for another three and half hours. At least according to the message I left her. And by the time I arrived, there would be no trace of the equipment to be seen. I'm fairly sure of that now and take a look at the timers again. She has two release mechanisms, the ice blocks. Generally if those fail, there's a safety back up. Something that the person doesn't want to do or someone they don't want to explain to. I catch myself from chuckling out loud, knowing she'll recognize my laugh. I'm not longer angry after coming to the conclusion that I'm the safety back up. If for some reason the two ice blocks don't work, she'll be there for a few more hours. Uncomfortable, but unharmed and embarrassed as I would come upon her like this. And she'd have to explain ... knowing it might change the dynamics of our friendship. My attention returns to her, again wondering why she didn't tell me. I'm flattered that she'd trust me to be her safety back up, but I wish I knew about this and her desires. She's strong willed, capable, generally in control. My first assumption would be that she wasn't one to be tied up, but would have expected her to be on my side of the bondage. She is the person in control, the one who takes control. But ... even in this situation, she's in control of her loss of control. Perhaps that's it and I'm just overthinking it. She needs a loss of control, even if it's in a controlled setting. Maybe she needs to be pushed just that little bit further. I might have to think about offering her a safe way to do that. It's something that I'd enjoy doing ... just would have to offer her it. Heck, with the thought that's just starting in my head ... I might be able to help her now and still not even touch her. Turning the thought over in my head, I give most of my attention back to her. From previous trials with other women, I'm guessing being blindfolded heightens her experience and I can't help but find myself wondering how she'd respond to being touched. Yeah, I'm not going to break her trust in me ... but that doesn't mean I'm not going to have some delicious images of her and the things I'd like to do to her. Right now I should finish examining her setup. She flexes where she stands up on her tiptoes and dances slightly, then her feet are still. Then she simply seems to stretch her body from her toes all the way up to her fingers. It's almost as if I was watching a cat stretch slowly up her body, then back down. As she finishes, I can hear a deep breath being drawn in and slowly, calmly released. Her body relaxes and her head lounges back again. It can be tiring being in the same position for extended periods of time, not to mention standing. Plus her legs are being held apart by a spreader bar connected at her ankles, she doesn't have much room for movement. Kneeling down, I take a closer look at the hardware and have to admit ... I'm a little intrigued by the spreader bar. Again, it's something that I'm guessing she's created and again I'm impressed. It looks as if she's connected two pieces of half inch threaded rod one 12", the other 18" with a coupling nut, then some form of rod end bearings at each end. Padded Velcro straps are attached to each hole, then wrapped firmly around each of her ankles. These can come off easily, unlike her wrist cuffs that require a key. The catch is that her hands would have to do it. I'm not positive, but the overall length of the bar is close to 36". That will put some strain on leg and back muscles. And as firm as the makeshift bar looks, it's again designed to completely break down. And this once again reminds me that there would most likely be no signs of any of this when I supposedly was going to arrive. Looking up at her from where I kneel, that seems to be about it. I can't see anything else other than these basic things that she's set up unless there's something beneath her clothing. And I'm not going to pat her down. Appraising the straps around her ankles again, I realize that the delicate chain which normally encircles her left ankle is missing. Quietly rising, I have to look her over again and note that she isn't wearing any of her normal jewelry. Not even her rings. Personally, I prefer what adorns her right now ... I love looking at a bound woman, her mouth distorted by a gag and body contoured by its restraints. I wouldn't be human if I didn't admit she's sexy on a regular basis and I've entertained thoughts of more with her in the past, but to see her like this I have much darker images of her in my mind right now. Her breath is calm and slow, almost as if she's meditating. My mind's eye sees something else. I can see her panting against that bit gag, her skin flushed as she's forced to rise on her tiptoes to support herself. The moans she would utter would be delicious; I can even see rigging up stronger supports to hang her from, perhaps putting a hook in front of her or behind her so that I can bring her feet up in either direction to twist her body. What has she tried? How far has she gone with what she can do to herself? Is this a simple exercise in restraint or does she also have a sexual bend to her needs? Does she include other things ... things that would cause her to moan as they pinch, clamp, vibrate. Has she been able to fasten her arms behind her, trapping herself in an arched position? Does she play with temperatures, what extremes has she tried ... or desires to try? Stepping back from her I cross my arms over my chest, debating pointlessly with myself if she's been tied with her arms at her sides and legs shut. There's something about a female helpless ... whose arms are strapped to her sides or behind her and her legs pinned tightly together, a strap or belt fastened firmly around her thighs as she's bent onto a table or over a sofa arm. I have to admit, her hair is long enough to take ahold of, wrap around my fist to twist her head so she can look at me. I can see weaving a strip of leather into a braid to mobilize her head. Attach it to one of the hooks, perhaps a plug ... even a rope that's drawn down between her legs and up her front. Something that constantly reminds her it's there. Closing my eyes, I'm now the one who draws in a slow silent breath in an attempt to erase the images my mind sees. She's still my friend. One who trusts me? The buzzer startles me, I jump but manage to keep quiet. I must have really been lost in my own thoughts for seventeen minutes to pass unnoticed. But here is what I wanted to see. She stirs before me, again flexing in that catlike way of stretching. Then her left arm shifts as her hand bends back, fingers extend as she reaches upwards and touches the first of the release keys. The ice has melted enough for her to curl her fingers around the metal and I'm guessing the string will snap if she gives it a good tug. For now she releases it and continues her flexing of muscles before settling back into her stance. An Act of Restraint I'm convinced now that she's done not only before, but several times before. She's settling back into position, patient to wait until either her body insists on being released or the second timer goes off. That gives me a little under a half hour at the most to decide a course of action. More like 25 minutes by the time I begin to back up to watch her from the other room. An idea forms in my mind, a little wicked ... but I could cover it by saying it's a joke. A late April fool's joke? No ... that probably wouldn't wash ... but telling her it's my way of teaching her a lesson? Yeah, that might work. Turning, I make it to the kitchen without a sound and takes a paring knife from the wooden block on the counter. Grateful it wasn't in a drawer that might make a sound upon opening, I head back to the hall. Patience will be the reward here, my height benefiting me in this case... Slowly, carefully I stand within inches of her side and reach upwards to fold the string holding the key over the blade of the knife. The string separates quickly against the sharp blade and I step back, holding one of the keys in my hand. Satisfied, slowly and quietly I move around her ... keeping an eye as she stirs, then repeats the same on the second key string that hasn't quite dropped enough for her to reach. ******* I had taken up residence in one of the more comfortable chairs in the living room. I would have preferred to sit at my desk, but I happen to know that the chair does make a bit of a squeak when one pulls it out. Besides, from this angle not only can I see her, but I can keep watch on the second timer, now counting down the seconds. My eyes keep getting drawn to her profile. She's almost serene, still and calm. So still that I had almost gotten up once to check on her, then she had drawn in a deep breath and stretched before I could rise. My eyes come back to the timer, 12 seconds left. The keys are in my pocket. It's not normal for me to second guess myself, but I check them. 8 seconds. I keep myself from standing and walking over to her. I have the perfect vantage point for her reaction. According to the time I left on the answering machine, I'm not supposed to be her for another two hours and 45 minutes. 3 seconds. She's about to learn a very good lesson about doing things like this. The alarm sounds just after the timer zeros out. Her head turns to the left lazily, then she straightens up and begins to flex her joints slightly. Moaning softly, she rotates her head and bends it forward through her arms, turning it side to side before shaking her whole body lightly and bouncing on her toes. I'm amused. I've seen her do similar things after waking up or sitting in a chair reading for a long period of time. Unfortunately, because she's in a standing position I won't get to see her stretch like a cat as she does when laying on her stomach. But that's fine with me, because now she's reaching up for the keys. Smug. Yup, that's how I'm feeling right now as the fingers of her right hand stretch up and move around ... looking for the brass key that should be there. Her head falls back further as she rises up on tiptoe, fingers straightening as they open and close ... searching for the string and key. I rise slowly, careful to still not make a sound. I'm beginning to enjoy myself, fairly sure she's in trouble now. She's good at puzzles and games, but I think I've won this one and she didn't even know I was playing. She's found the string. It's caught between her forefinger and middle finger. I move towards where she is, intending to slip around her into the office when I catch the sound of her breathing. Shallow now, much shorter than before. She's brought her head up slightly and I regret that she's wearing the blindfold. She has the most expressive eyes ... but they're covered ... the clench of her jaw against the bit gag though tells me she understands something is wrong. Her face turns towards the key that would be over her left hand and reaches up. She's already touched that one, so in her logic it will be there. I stand there and wait until her fingers find it, work the string between her fingertips until she finds the cut end of this string also. The part of her upper chest that is visible is becoming a deep red and her breathing shortens as she realizes both keys are missing. Time for me to move over to the desk. I have no intention of announcing my presence until the right time and want to see how she's going to handle being in this predicament. That is until she says something that sounds vaguely like my name. Oh come on. She couldn't have figured it out that quickly. She says something again, despite the bit gag distorting her words I can hear her saying my name in question form. Cocking an eyebrow, I turn to look at her over my shoulder. She's standing firm, head upright and facing forward. If the blindfold was off, she'd be looking at the door jam. There isn't much that she can do. I should probably just go over and unlock her cuffs but looking at her trapped there reminds me of first seeing her through the window. Then the emotion I felt upon finding the side door unlocked. She didn't cover all of her bases. And even though I'm the safety ... she'd be stuck here. What would have happened if some person other than me had come in, someone not so nice ...? I shake my head, trying to clear the thoughts of what might have happened and what I could do to her now as she's helpless. Instead I reach over to the answering machine and play the message I left earlier. "Hey Chickie, are you there? Pick up." I can hear her sigh, but I don't turn around yet. "Things are moving along faster than usual. So ... ah, I'll be out of here about an hour earlier than we talked about. Call me if you can." "Ooo eyed" Yeah, she's right. I lied. She's lucky I wasn't some freak that would take advantage of her. Turning, I stride back to her and stop right in front of her. I want to make sure she feels my breath against her face as I speak to her. "Yeah sweetheart, I did lie. But then you haven't be all that truthful with me either, have you. However ... I have to admit, I'm not sure I've ever seen you look sexier than you do right now." I love how her nostrils flare ever so slightly as she snorts. Rattling the keys lightly in my hand, I laugh. "Not very ladylike, but I'll excuse that for now. You do realize you're going to have a lot of questions to answer. Here, let me unlock you." "Ooh." Negative tone as she shakes her head side to side. No. "No? Oh my sweet girl, you're not exactly in a negotiating position now, are you?" "Aay-ee." Maybe? And she has that cutsie tone. I take a step back to look over the rig she's in again, wondering if I've missed anything. She's a planner, I have no doubt that she has worked out every step ... but could she have foreseen my showing up early? Probably not, but I'm curious just how far she might have planned. My eyes rise up to the padlocks again which she can't remove without keys. Even if she can get her hands down and remove the rest of the rig, the cuffs will still be on her. "Ok, let's make a deal. Ready?" She raised her head and tilts it to the side. "I issenin" "I gave you the chance to be free right now, no strings attached other than questions. But since you refuse, I assume you're prepared to do the full time in your gear." I pause for a response, waiting until she nods once slowly. "Very well. I also assume I am your safety and you would have had roughly two and a half more hours before I would have walked in this door. At that point there would have been no trace of any of this, correct?" Again she nods once. "Ok Chickie, here's the deal. I can let you out now and this weekend will be a Q & A session ...no holding back on your answers. Or, you can wait the rest of the time and if you're not out of your gear and everything is still out ... you'll have to beg me to help you and once I free you, obey me for the weekend." She's quiet for the moment, obviously thinking. I lean forward, making sure she can feel my breath on her cheek as I whisper. "I promise to make you bend over and turn your ass red for doing this and making me wait." Her breath catches and I hear her swallow slightly. Excitement? Nervous? With any luck, anticipation? Pulling back, I again wish I could see her eyes. "Do we have an agreement?" "on deh on." Condition. "What is the condition?" Straightening a little, she clears her throat the best she can. "ith I et out an ut errey in awray ee-or eyem ... ooo erv ee." Getting part of what she said, I'm still not sure I heard it correctly and ask her to repeat it. Her sounds come out almost exactly the same and I think I understand. "If you get out and put everything away before the time ... I serve you?" She nods firmly once. Stepping back, I survey her once more and think about her words. This might be interesting and open up some doors for potential future games. "Ok. I agree. Let me set the timer." Picking up one of the timers from the table behind her, I turn it around to set it and note a third padlock key that is taped to the bottom of the device. Smiling, I check my watch and set the timer, removing the key before pressing the start button. "You now have two hours and twenty-three minutes. Go" ****** I'm finally sitting in my chair at the desk, going through a report that I didn't need to finish this weekend. But hey, I've got the time and she's just hanging around. I smile to myself at that thought and look up at her still standing in the same position. A little over an hour has passed and she's shifted around, but hasn't done much more than that. Right now her head is bent forward, arms dangling in their cuffs ... she almost looks tired. Looking back at the blotter on my desk, I move the keys around and line them up perfectly. After finding a third key and setting the timer, I made it my mission to find a fourth key. It made sense after all, two keys usually came with each padlock and there were two padlocks in use. I assume she heard me searching, I wasn't quiet about it. After looking through drawers and around furniture, I found her bag of tricks pushed underneath the sofa in the other room. The fourth key was inside the luggage tag attached to the bag, and I did get an answer as to whether or not there was a sexual bend to her bondage sessions by surveying the equipment in the bag. I have a feeling it's going to be a very enlightening weekend for both of us and reopen my files to distract myself. I can hear her shifting again, taking short breaths ... then after a bit quiet. It starts again after a time and I look up to see her drawing in a deep breath as her head drops forward again. What is she doing? Something is different, but I'm not quite sure what. Oh ... wait. Yes. There it is, a light sheen on her cheek. She's sweating. Nervous about what is going to happen? Why prolong the inevitable ... and I'm about to ask her that very question when she straightens and rises up on her tip-toes and shifts her arms to turn her hands inward. Perhaps I should have been paying more attention to her while I was searching, and lean back in my chair to watch. I'll be damned, she's thought of more than one release mechanism ... this one takes a bit of time and endurance, but I can see how it works. With the tips of her fingers, she works the center piece of the turnbuckle, turning it to cause the eyebolts to move inwards opening the clamp above the doorframe. It can't be easy, a slow and tedious process moving it about a quarter turn before she has to rest again ... the strain on her muscles must be tremendous. It's obvious she's getting tired as she takes her next break, standing still and catching her breath. "You're going to be useless to me if you're exhausted." She turns her head slightly towards me and snorts, causing me to laugh. She has a way out, and I'm pretty sure she doesn't know I found her spare keys. But, I'd like to make this a little more interesting and stand up to walk over to her. "I like your bag of toys." So still. Even her breathing stops for a moment, then she swallows slowly. I move to lean against the door frame behind her, curious to see if I can throw her a little. "I'm going to enjoy your demonstrating how you incorporate your devices. And the extra bars and connectors I saw ... you can set this rig up in different ways. You will be required to show me each and every one." She's stretched up again, manipulating the turnbuckle and I can now see that the clamp has spread. Not quite enough to allow her to drop her arms, but she is still working at it. I look over at the timer and smile. "I have to tell you, I'm really looking forward to watching you crawl for me. In less than an hour, look down at you and hear that sweet voice of yours beg me for the key to open those padlocks." She hesitates in her movements at my mention of the time, then begins to work again, soft grunts starting to come from her. "That's a sexy sound too. So are the whimpers and the pleas that I fully intend to extract from you after I so graciously allow you to remove your cuffs." I move forward slightly, whispering into her ear. "I want to make sure that the first thing that will be done ... and you WILL do it without my telling you ... is that you stand in front of my desk and slide your jeans and panties down your legs. You will then bend forward over my desk, arms outstretched. You can grip the other edge of the desk, but you will present your bare ass to me for punishment." Please to hear her breath is shorter, I continue. "You do know you deserve to be punished. I'm not sure what I'll use yet. Perhaps my hand, maybe a spatula from the kitchen. I'd love to use my belt on you, but I don't know if you've had that done yet. We will find out this weekend though, won't we?" Shifting so that she can feel my breath against her other ear, I continue to whisper. "Ten spanks for each infraction. The infractions are non-negotiable. First infraction, Self-bondage. Ten strikes." "Second infraction, you left a door unlocked and yourself accessible to any potential predator." She snorts at my words and I smile. "Ten more strikes for the second infraction. Third infraction, hiding this from me. I would have understood, even helped. I fully intend to correct that issue this weekend. Ten more strikes and that makes thirty total. Your ass will be beautifully red my dear." She seems to growl, drawing in deep breaths as she rests and I move around to the front of her. "You know what I'm really curious about ... if you're now wet. If this turns you on. I'll bet it does." She shakes her head, rising up on her tiptoes again, fingers barely touching the turnbuckle and I laugh. "You realize that if I find out you're lying ... and I will ... I promise and additional 20 spanks with my bare hand. And you will thank me for each and every one." With a slight clanging noise, the clamp falls down from its place over the molding and I jump back as it bumps her head on the way down. Before I can ask her if she's ok, she stretches her shoulders and lets her arms drop, the hardware dangling from her wrists. She then begins to move, bending at the waist and twists slightly so that her hands can reach for her right ankle. The ripping sound of Velcro is loud and one end of the spreader bar lands on the floor. The other ankle strap comes off as easily and with a groan she drops to her knees. I'm impressed, I'm not going to tell her that, but I am. Impressed but not sympathetic. That was a lot of work and obviously she has some endurance. That will come in handy. She almost has little over a half hour left when she finally seems to get the energy to move again. Turning her head to the side, she brings her bound wrists up and manages to unbuckle the blindfold, then the bit gag. Both fall to the floor as she kneels quietly, blinking in the light. Again a few minutes pass, then she tilts her head back and looks at me with those green eyes. "How much time do I have left?" "Thirty-six minutes." She stands up slowly, not asking for help and turns towards the table that still holds one of the timers. I smile as she chews on her lower lip, but still picks up the timer that is left and looks under it. Chuckling, I stride back to the desk and pick up the four keys before sitting on the edge. "I'm afraid I found all of them. Want to start begging now?" She shakes her head no and puts down the timer. "I still have 30 minutes." Walking forward, she drops to all fours and picks up the blindfold and places it in her mouth. Slowly, awkwardly because of her bound hands, she crawls forward towards me. Does she want me to blindfold her during her punishment? I admit, I like the image she presents and tell her so. There is a look in her eyes that I truly enjoy, almost a pleasure as she comes slowly towards me. She has to be tired and I think I'll give her a chance to re-coup before I start our playtime. She's finally kneeling at my feet, taking the blindfold from her mouth, and I lean forward to show her the keys that will free her. "Time?" Really? Here she is kneeling at my feet and I hold the means to her freedom. As far as I'm concerned, she can start begging now ... but ... "Twenty-seven minutes." My sense of triumph begins to disappear as she takes the blindfold and begins to chew slightly at the edge of one of the eye coverings. After sometime of working at it, she's able to pull at the leather and fur. Eventually, there is a ripping sound as she pulls the stitching apart. A brass padlock key falls from between the material into her palm, which she immediately uses to unlock the padlocks that will free her wrists. "Time?" She looks up at me, a small smirk on her face. I look at the timer on my desk, suddenly hoping that she doesn't have enough time to put everything away. "Fourteen minutes." It's obvious she's tired and her body aches, but she's up and moving. As I suspected, the equipment is easily dismantled into small pieces and tucked away into the bag that I had found under the sofa. When done, she returns to me and holds out her hands for the keys, which are then placed in a pouch inside the bag. With five minutes remaining, she leaves the house and I hear the trunk of her car close before she returns to the room that I'm in waiting for her. "Time?" "One minute and fifty-three seconds. How long have you had that key sewn into the blindfold?" She smiles and bows her head to me. "A year and a half or so." Coming forward, she kisses me on the cheek. "Thank you for being my safety ... but I am quite aware of the penalty you would impose upon finding me like that. I did listen to you over the years." I do feel as if I've been tricked, but then ... I did some tricking of my own. A deal is a deal. "Yes, and you've won." Her smile is sweet and she stretches. "Now ... why don't you crawl on over to the kitchen and get me a bottle of water. And afterwards, you can massage away my muscle aches while we discuss your status this weekend. After all ... I consider the nasty tricks you tried to pull on me infractions."