I started tugging, rhythmically, with my right leg, each time pulling as hard as I could.I started tugging, rhythmically, with my right leg, each time pulling as hard as I could. I tried jerking it in the direction of the fastening -- Velcro releases by moving up, and I wanted to work with it, not against it. Gradually, I got more and more frantic, and lost my rhythm. I'd been bound, John had put me here, and I wasn't getting out! The struggles, and the remem- brance of who had bound me, got me more aroused. I writhed, and tugged, to no avail, and each movement got me more aroused. But I couldn't do anything to relieve myself; my hands were bound, and I couldn't get enough stimulation. That thought aroused me even more, of course; the whole situation was again intensely sexual. I moaned through the gag, and tried desperately to squeeze my legs together, to rub my thighs on each other. At that point, I would have given up all thought of escape in ex- change for being bound on my stomach instead, with a pillow under me to grab between my legs. Eventually, by main force of will, I managed to relax. My strug- gles had gotten me an inch or so of slack -- perhaps the chain connecting the anchor bar to the arm chain wasn't completely taut under the mattress. Did that offer any new possibilities? I lifted my head, as best I could, and surveyed the situation. Gotcha! Either from my escape attempts, or because John had bound me incorrectly, given his state, my left leg was fastened incorrectly. The Velcro overlap was rotated so that it was mostly down, towards the mattress. |