My True SM Story—Self-Bound and Being Bound

I don't know when I started liking SM. In elementary school, I liked walking with my legs tightly clamped together, or holding my urine for a long time and then letting it flow out; it gave me an incredible kind of pleasure. Looking back now, I guess I was a precocious child.

After entering university, I started dating. My boyfriend's name was Yang, and he introduced me to pornographic websites. One time, while browsing unconsciously, I finally learned what SM was. I was deeply fascinated by the images of bondage. I felt that if my body were bound by those ropes, if my mouth were gagged with all sorts of objects, how intense my helplessness and vulnerability would be! And how much I liked that feeling!

I didn't dare tell Yang about these feelings. I was afraid he would see me as abnormal. So I chose self-restraint. Unlike the elaborate handcuffs, gags, and high heels mentioned in other posts, I was just a student; I didn't have that much money to buy these luxuries, and I was too embarrassed to buy them. So my self-restraint mostly involved finding whatever was at hand to restrain myself. If I were to take pictures, they might lack the erotic beauty of professional images. But for me, in my self-imposed bondage, I am blind to myself, so I use anything that can generate masochistic pleasure.
My self-imposed bondage usually takes place at home during holidays. My parents are very busy with work and often disappear for days at a time. So I can safely engage in self-torture at home. Summer vacation after my freshman year arrived, and one afternoon, I rushed home. My parents were away on a business trip again. I confidently and boldly spent the afternoon preparing for self-bondage. I really enjoy being tied up and gagged. These two forms of torture often give me an uncontrollable pleasure. I especially enjoy facial torture, and after reading more and more SM pictures and novels, my self-torture has become more professional and profound.

It is a quiet, deserted summer afternoon. I draw all the curtains in the house. Then I go to my room and take out the things I've hidden in the closet: several ropes of different lengths and thicknesses, several rubber bands, several hair clips, a pile of cotton strips, and a portable clothes rack for drying pants. A few small locks.

I quickly stripped naked. I'm not a particularly beautiful girl, but my figure and breasts are outstanding. My breasts are large and firm, full and pear-shaped. I'm embarrassed to say this, but since I'm abusing myself, I don't care about my figure.

I took out a rope about two meters long and as thick as my little finger and carefully tied it around my breasts, forming a star shape. My breasts and nipples protruded because of the rope. Watching them suffer first, I grabbed them tightly, mimicking my master's tone, saying, "You'll get what's coming to you, you lowly slaves!"
Trembling, I used another rope to make a thong and tied it around my genitals. Of course, I tied two tight knots at my clitoris and anus.

After doing all this, I staggered to the mirror to admire my body. The rope accentuated my body, giving it a seductive and lewd beauty. I will keep these two things until I no longer want to bind myself.

Next is my preferred mouth. I will fill my mouth with many things, and I will also put many things between my lips, not just a gag.

I first put a handful of cherries in my mouth, pits included. Then I stuffed a small towel in, and shoved the whole towel into my mouth. At this point, my mouth looked bulging in the mirror. And the cherries had been pushed to my throat. I definitely couldn't speak. I tried to make a sound. The "woo-woo" sound gave me a new motivation to torture myself. I like to see myself helpless and in pain because of myself. Ha, you perverted girl!
After doing all this, I started to set up the keys to the several small locks I had prepared. I put the key to the gag in my drawer. The drawer was locked, and the key was in a narrow gap between the bed and the wall. With my hands tied behind my back, I had to squeeze my whole body into that gap to get it. The key was not only for my drawer, but also for the toilet, because I put the key to the hand lock in the bathtub. Here are the steps I need to take to retrieve the keys: First, I'll retrieve the toilet key from under the bed, then the key to the handcuffs from the bathtub. More passion will follow, and I can only release my mouth with my hands unbound.

While putting the keys away, my mouth will be stuffed with cherries and a towel, and two ropes will tightly bind my sensitive areas. But I can endure it; for a seasoned self-bondage practitioner, this is nothing. I should add more instruments to inflict pain.

I'll tie thin lines—fishing nylon lines—to two rubber bands; though thin, they won't break easily. I'll tie the rubber bands to my nipples, which are already erect from the rope binding. Attaching the rubber bands isn't difficult. To prevent them from slipping during my struggles, I'll use black hair clips—diagonal, horizontal, and vertical—to secure them to the nipples and rubber bands. At this point, the pain in my nipples is already starting to creep in. But it's still not enough. To allow my nipples to endure prolonged torture, I'll save the most painful step for last.

I took a 10-meter-long white cotton rope and began to wrap it around myself. I folded the rope in half and hung it around my neck, then pulled it back and tightened it around my neck. I immediately felt the pain of suffocation. The two strands of rope digging into my lips, I tilted my head back, my teeth almost biting off the flesh around my mouth. I loved it! I loved this feeling of being unable to speak or make a sound.

I wrapped the rope down, through the pre-made noose, and tightly around my shoulders and below my breasts several times. At this point, my hands were still free, only my upper arms and shoulders were immobile. I took out a white cloth and covered my mouth and nose. I tied a knot tightly. I immediately began to have difficulty breathing! One end of the white cloth had a lock on it. I passed the other end through the lock behind my neck, and the lock clicked shut! This meant that I could only untie the white cloth after unlocking the lock. Otherwise, I would remain in this state.

The rope around my neck was suffocating me; I couldn't tilt my head back, only looking down could alleviate the pain. I bent down and tied my legs and feet together. My legs were crossed. I could barely stand, but I couldn't walk. The only way to move was by crawling!
Like a dog, no, like a worm, writhing on the ground. This was all part of my plan. Imagine, a girl bound hand and foot, in her own home, forced to crawl miserably and painfully on the floor to get a key. How humiliating! Ah! Yet how I loved this feeling of enslavement!

The final step: I took out one of those clothes hangers specifically for clamping trouser legs to dry, adjusted its position, and clamped it down hard on my nipples. Ah! A wave of pain washed over me. Those hangers had incredibly strong clamps to hold the trouser legs firmly in place. Tears welled up in my eyes from the pain. But that wasn't enough. Remember the two thin threads tied to the elastic band around my nipples? I threaded them through the white cloth and tied them to the rope binding my lips. I tied it with my head down. That is, if I looked up, my nipples would be stretched by my mouth! This pain—I both feared and excited as I went through the final stages of self-enslavement.

I took out my underwear and pulled it over my head, the two sides of the underwear completely obscuring my eyes, forcing me to see only half of each eye. Seeing was difficult. Then I pulled the underwear and tied it to the hook on the clothes hanger. Ah! Pain! Every movement of the hanger sent a jolt of pain through my nipples.

I pulled my hands tightly behind my back, finding the prepared noose. If I reached in and pulled hard—then I would truly enter the time of self-enslavement. I was certain everything was foolproof. Finally, I made up my mind, reached in, and fumbled for the lock hanging there, fumbling to fasten the keyhole!

Once again, I had bound myself to my home.

I'm sitting on the sofa in the living room now. My underwear is over my head, my mouth is stuffed with cherries and a towel, and it's tightly bound with rope, so I can't speak at all, not even make a sound. Then there are my nipples, which I'm torturing. Thin threads are tied to my mouth, and several small clips are holding them in place. I dare not move my mouth; even the slightest movement of my nipples feels like they're being torn apart! The clothespin hook is tethered to my underwear. If I lie down with my head flat, I don't know how much pain those two clips will cause my nipples. And then there's my genitals. Those two knots must have been tied too tightly; my clitoris is incredibly painful, and it's leaking a lot of fluid.

I struggle to lift my buttocks, trying to stand up. But my legs are crossed; I hadn't considered that if my legs were crossed, I wouldn't be able to stand at all. I keep my head down—I have to keep my head down, otherwise the pain in my nipples and the feeling of suffocation will be unbearable.

I lean forward, my buttocks sticking out, barely managing to stand up. My anus and genitals are even more unbearably constricted. But I couldn't just sit on the sofa; I needed to get the key from the crack in my bed to untie myself.

I stood up. Strictly speaking, I didn't stand up; I was just hunched over, head down, buttocks sticking out—a humiliating position I didn't want anyone else to see. It was too shameful.

I slowly knelt down. Every movement sent a tearing pain through my nipples. I struggled to look around through my underwear-covered eyes. Lifting my head caused the thread connecting my mouth to my nipples to move. I cried out in pain. But how could I cry out? My mouth was stuffed full of things. My lips were bound with rope, and even my nose was covered by a white cloth. I could barely breathe, let alone cry out. I just struggled to shed tears while carefully controlling my breathing. If I breathed too hard, the ropes binding my entire body would cause pain in my genitals and breasts.

I gasped for breath on the floor. I realized that walking on my knees was impossible. I could only crawl, using my buttocks and shoulders. But this meant I had to lie face down on the floor. But my nipples had been covered in so much stuff. If I rolled over, my entire weight would press down on the clothespins, and I couldn't look down while crawling; I had to keep glancing up to see where I was going. The two lines pressing against me would pull on my nipples even more, making the pain even more intense. But I had to crawl to my room.

I tried to calm my breathing and carefully lay down on the floor. A sharp pain shot through my nipples. The two lines were still pulling on them. Hot tears streamed down my face. The tears soaked the cloth, making it even harder to breathe. And my teeth, pulled by the ropes, bit into the flesh next to my lip. My mouth felt like it was being strangled.

I don't know how long it took me to crawl to my room. When I got to the door, I found it closed, but I couldn't turn the handle while lying on the floor. I wanted to cry again. More intensely, that meant I had to get up and struggle to turn the handle, then continue crawling on the floor to the bed frame to retrieve the key.

After doing all this, I don't know if I'll tear my nipples off!

(The End)
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My True SM Story—Self-Bound and Being Bound

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