My Personal Account

I took out the police handcuffs and cuffed them to my upper arm elbows. This choice would restrict my hands' freedom of movement behind
my back , making it difficult for me to grab anything. As I was about to put my hands
together and lock them, I hesitated. Yes! Once my hands were cuffed, I would completely lose
any possible freedom, and during that time, I would be helpless in any situation that might occur. "
What if someone comes? I can remain silent, and they'll think no one is home. But what if it's a robber? What if they knock on the door to
test if anyone is home?

I know the security here is good, but who can guarantee it?"

I even imagined a thief breaking in… "What if something else happens? What if there's
a fire ? Did the maid turn off the gas? Although I know my parents are abroad, what if they suddenly come back
?…" A flood of unpredictable things rushed through my mind. I knew that any of these events
would be unbearable to face, and I didn't know how to face them.

Giving up now wasn't too late, but… but… I was unwilling! My urgent physical and psychological
desires tormented me. A mix of nervousness and excitement filled me.

Tie it up! Whatever! Nothing will happen… My hands unconsciously clasped together, already aligned
with the lock. I just needed a little more force… My heart was pounding, my rapid breathing almost suffocating me
.

“Click!” “Ah! It’s locked, really locked!” I was terrified.

I hadn’t intended to lock it, but I knew the lock was sensitive, the lock head short, and I had it right in front of the keyhole
! My hands, behind my back, weren’t very sensitive. In my panic, my hands must have trembled
as I pushed the lock into the keyhole.

I tried to move my hands; they were indeed bound. Now I had no room for regret.

Even if I wanted to give up this self-enslavement, it was beyond my control. I knew that to gain freedom, I had to
follow the procedure I had designed and ensure nothing unexpected happened.

My feelings were so complicated. All the possible things I had imagined before flooded my mind again. I was
nervous and prayed that nothing would actually happen! Yet, this fear seemed to excite me even more.
I could clearly feel a masochistic pleasure in my body. "It feels so good to be tied up!" I twisted
my body , experiencing the feeling of being bound. The knot of the rope binding my ** gradually deepened with the movement; it seemed to be forcing its way into my body
, constantly undulating.

The stimulation of the knot made me groan involuntarily. My lower body was reacting too strongly. I could clearly feel
that it was already... already... completely wet! I imagined that the soft knot must be constantly drawing in my
lustful fluids, wantonly ravaging the most sensitive secret place of the lewd girl. "Ah—it's flowing down, so much, how can there be
so much? I'm such a masochist... so exciting, so stimulating, I can't take it anymore...!" I unconsciously
wanted to speed up and increase the amplitude of my body twisting, wanting the knot to stimulate my private parts more intensely, sending me to
a sexual climax. With my hands bound, it was the only tool I could use for masturbation; only it could
soothe my urgent needs, both psychological and physiological. However, a sharp pain shot through my penis, causing
me to cry out in agony. The restraint on my penis prevented me from twisting my body excessively. To alleviate
the pain, I could only slow down the intensity of my movements.

"No, I can't take it anymore," the slight stimulation from the knots was utterly insufficient to satisfy my desperate need.
The intense sensation of lust overwhelmed me, and I tried to break free of the handcuffs… but all in vain
. The uncontrollable lust tormented me. My sense of shame had long since vanished. I
truly felt the unbearable, surging pleasure of being enslaved.

I couldn't express my feelings at that moment; my mind was blank, unable to focus on anything. And
this was precisely the feeling I desperately craved in my self-enslavement. Uncontrolled emotions
erupted like a volcano, causing my reason to completely collapse.

"Ah! So good…!" My juices flowed uncontrollably, like tears of sorrow, quickly
soaking my inner thighs and dripping onto the floor. "So much… Am I a slut? Why is there
so much?! No… no… I… I… can't… control…

I… can't… ah!" I climaxed, I felt it. I realized I was covered
in sweat.

The sweat and juices made me feel filthy. The flow of sweat made my body unbearably itchy.
I really wanted to take a shower! But being bound, I could do nothing but endure. This gave me a strange pleasure of enslavement,
a pleasure born from my helplessness against any intrusion: "I'm bound, what can I do? I don't
belong to myself, I can't refuse whatever you want to do to me…!" Just thinking about it excited me.

The throbbing in my head pulled me back to reality. The ice was melting gradually without my noticing.

The stockings began to tighten under the weight of the ice. Its elasticity was enough to forcefully pull my nipple upwards, and
I felt the pain in my nipple intensify. I started to tense up. Before this, I had never experienced
how much pain it could cause me. Although I knew it would hurt, I hadn't imagined the consequences. Now,
regret was useless. I could only force myself to endure it, raising my heels and arching my body as much as possible
to alleviate the pain the stockings were causing my nipple. My feet were already uncomfortable under the constraints of high heels, and this was
undoubtedly adding insult to injury. Raising my heels made my legs straight, and the tightening of my muscles made my penis clench even tighter.
The feeling of the knot there was even more intense; it was like a cork, pushing upwards tightly, as if it wanted to penetrate me.
Oh! So comfortable. The feeling of being enslaved stimulated me again, but I dared not make any further moves. I could only contract my
genitals (perineal contraction) to feel the pleasure of the foreign object invading my private parts.

It should be noted that I do have those kinds of dildos for masturbation.

I have one, and it's a high-quality one. I don't use it because I'm still a virgin. As a woman, before
losing my virginity, it's the most precious thing, and I cherish it greatly. I'll dedicate it to the one I love. I think all
women are like that. Although I masturbate, I don't think I've damaged it, at least I haven't penetrated deeply
there .

But then I… well… okay! That's a story for later, I won't go into it now. The ice was melting so slowly,
while the pain in my head was getting stronger and stronger.

I didn't know how much longer I could endure it. Now, this enslavement was giving me more than just pleasure; the unbearable
pain was agonizing me. My legs, which had been standing on tiptoe for so long, were sore and numb
. The struggle to hold on made them tremble violently, and the slightest relaxation would bring a sharp pain to my head. The pain made me involuntarily shed tears. Helplessness made me
feel the pleasure and the pain of enslavement.

The pain in enslavement was inevitable; it felt more real and stimulated my true masochistic desires. Although
I couldn't bear the pain now, I never truly regretted doing this. I
felt like a truly perverted woman, an extreme masochist. I think anyone who saw me now
would feel miserable. I felt so pathetic, and also somewhat ridiculous; my face, contorted by pain, was covered in tears,
and even when I cried, I had to tilt my head back. This is completely different from the heroes in movies who cry with their heads tilted back
because they refuse to submit…!

But I have to tilt my head back because bowing my head will cause me pain. Of course, I cry because of the pain.

I stand tall, chest out, not to show my heroism, but to submit to the pain
inflicted , and this submission does nothing to alleviate my suffering. And all of this is of my own making!
"Oh God!

Help me, let me end this damned enslavement!" I dare not move an inch; even the slightest
movement will bring excruciating pain, but how can I remain still? My waist, legs, and even my whole body have
reached their limit; the pain they inflict is no less than the pain in my head. I cannot bear it, yet I have no choice but to endure it!

"Someone save me!" I really want to scream for help, but my mouth is gagged, and even if it weren't, I wouldn't dare to shout.
Subconsciously, I really hope for an intruder; as long as I can escape this embarrassing situation, I'd even accept being a pervert
.

I pitifully and helplessly endured it.

I felt as if my head was about to be ripped off; the pain was indescribable, even "excruciating"
wouldn't be accurate. It seemed like something else was controlling me, I think it was psychological.

(I really don't know how to describe the scene, but it's deeply etched in my memory, I can't put it into words.)
I was terrified I would faint from the pain, so I tried to stay awake and forced myself to think about other
things , to distract myself from the pain. Now I felt like I had lost the pleasure of being enslaved. Or rather, it felt like
, because it wasn't quite like that. The ice melted so slowly, time seemed to stand still, and now I truly
understood what it meant for time to drag on endlessly…

It seemed to be late at night now, and because of the air conditioning, I felt so cold. I couldn't do anything except move
. The long wait was unbearable. This was true enslavement; I was abusing myself!
Both psychologically and physically, I experienced its immense power. I really enjoyed it
; even in the pain, my masochistic will hadn't been worn down. "Oh, almost there,"
I thought, secretly relieved to see only a tiny bit of ice left. "I finally made it through." I suddenly felt incredibly brave,
and also incredibly twisted. My mind started racing again. * The small ring on the chain finally fell off.

All my tense nerves crumbled. I felt paralyzed, weak and swaying, wanting to collapse to the ground.
However, I had to pull myself together. A new pain shot through my genitals, a piercing pain.
The rope straddling my lower body and the knot in my genitals seemed to be clamping my labia or something else. I couldn't be sure,
but the pain felt different from the pain in my head, seemingly more unbearable. I tried to move my
lower body , trying to position the two knots properly so they would
n't cause me new pain. However, the springs prevented the ropes from leaving my sensitive area, and my bound legs held them tightly
between my labia. I was helpless. However, as long as I don't deliberately lower or move my body, it won't
hurt me. But I have to move unless I want to be tied up like this forever.

I glanced at the wall clock; thankfully, it was only a little past one. I think I've endured the pain in my penis for over
two hours. Now, facing a new challenge, I can't help but feel a little timid; but timidity can't change the established fact
: I must free myself, no matter how much pain I have to overcome. This helpless
feeling of "having to" is what I enjoy most in my self-slave; helplessness, despair, and pain allow me to fully experience
the pleasure and sexual stimulation of being masochistic. The pleasure of being enslaved is gathering in my mind and body again. It's just that without
the pain I feel much more relaxed.

As for the torment in my lower body, I think I can still control it if I'm careful; at least I can stop
the pain it brings me at any time. Now I need to rest for a while. It just took a considerable amount of my physical strength and willpower.
Quietly, I savored the pleasure of my body being tightly bound by ropes. Sometimes, I deliberately tightened my muscles to intensify the feeling
of being tied up ; I thought it felt wonderful.

My head still ached; the weight of the chains continued to torment it. When I swayed, the chains, swinging,
remained a significant threat to my penis, though they no longer restricted my freedom of movement, which made me
feel . My penis was no longer erect, as if it had lost its life; it was mangled
beyond recognition by the clamps, bringing me only pain and no pleasure, but psychologically, the feeling of being enslaved was good.

In self-slavery, one often encounters unexpected or unnoticed things. These
things often put one in very awkward situations, and now I had encountered one. "Oh no, I...
I...what happened? Why didn't I think of going to the toilet beforehand?" I hadn't drunk much, nor
did I have a habit of urinating frequently, but now I definitely felt the urge to urinate. Was it because of the sexual arousal earlier?
Maybe, I thought. "What should I do? I'm so anxious..." An indescribable sense of shame immediately overwhelmed me.
The more anxious I became, the stronger the urge to urinate grew, as if it were deliberately tormenting me and stimulating my genitals.
It became increasingly unbearable. In novels, I've seen
scenes of bound girls forced to urinate in front of others; how shameful! But such shame can truly amplify the feeling of being enslaved. My feelings at this moment were probably
similar to those in the novels.

In my fantasy, it felt like someone was really watching me. I couldn't, I didn't want "them" to see me
like this; the shame was unbearable. But the urge to urinate came suddenly. The more you try to ignore it, the more intense
it becomes. I think I could usually hold it in, but now it was so difficult. "I can't pee!
It's so dirty! How can I pee like this? The urine will soil my legs and my floor. Even though no one will
see, but... but it just doesn't feel right... It's so shameful... I... why am I
getting excited ... No... I don't know if it's the stimulation of the urine or the masochistic pleasure at play, but I feel both excited
and uncomfortable. "Ah! It's coming out... flowing out... Oh, no... it's vaginal fluid..."
The shame of wanting to pee made me want to end my situation as soon as possible, yet I also wanted to continue indulging in this indescribable pleasure.

I think I still can't "pee and urinate anywhere"; the shame and the need for cleanliness make it difficult for me to do so. I
forced myself to hold it in and began to end my self-enslavement. It was a difficult and long process. I didn't know
if I could endure it, but I had to try my best. Now, the knots in my vagina not only stimulated my pleasure but also
my physiological need to defecate. Bound, I had no way to escape this awkward
situation except to endure it with great difficulty. How could I easily cross the ropes spanning my vagina? Besides, I couldn't walk.

I could only move forward little by little or hop. The former was less likely to cause me pain or injury,
but it was too slow; while the latter, although faster, was not guaranteed to have any problems. I chose the latter. When the first
knot passed through my vagina, it was easy.

But I felt as if it had changed the structure of the ropes binding my vagina and the vagina. I knew the second knot would not
be easy. As I hopped, the vaginal chains also shook up and down, and their pull caused my penis to throb with increasingly intense
pain. I could only grit my teeth and endure it. "Ah!" The pain in my vagina made me cry out, and my face
contorted in agony. My vagina seemed to be out of place, as if its structure had changed, and I didn't know how it was "placed" there.
The pain almost made me lose control of my bladder.

But this did nothing to extinguish my masochistic desires or intensify my sexual arousal.

I took a breath and tried to spread my legs as wide as possible, to let my labia return to their original state. But
I couldn't. My feelings were both bitter and stimulating, as if I needed it.
I hopped forward between two knots. I was careful with each knot, trying not to let the knot in my vagina
trap me there. I could feel the strange sensation when the two knots met there. I
succumbed to the ravages of the knots, and the thought that I had to treat them well made me involuntarily produce a lot of
vaginal fluid.

I think the ropes I passed were already soaked with this love fluid. Now they were not satisfied, and continued
to suck, as if trying to drain me dry.

Fortunately, I seemed to have a lot of secretions, which made me feel comfortable and prevented the knots from becoming too dry to pass through.
My love fluid was actually offered to the ropes, as if they were my master enslaving me. It had no life force, yet it compelled
me to act according to its will, a feeling that excited me intensely. I felt better enslaved by something lifeless
or inferior to humans.

I often imagined myself being enslaved by people I hated or being manipulated by those of lower status; that kind of
enslavement seemed real, and the helpless humiliation and shame always excited me.
I finally overcame all the knots, but at a considerable cost. The pain in my lower body was intense;
I wondered if I had torn something. The constant flow of fluid made it impossible to tell if it contained blood. The bloating
in my lower abdomen made me feel like my bladder was full of urine, pricking my urethra like needles. My
endurance was increasing, and I even suspected that I had already leaked, otherwise why would I be so wet down there!

Getting the knife to cut the ropes didn't seem so easy either, a completely different experience from when I wasn't bound
. My arms had very little room to move behind my back, and the rope between my legs restricted me,
making it difficult to face the knife. I had to reach the knife precisely; if I accidentally dropped it
, I felt I would be forever bound. I turned my body; the
rope seemed to pry open my labia and clamp them together with my thighs. It wasn't very painful, at least not
the pain I felt now. I bent over, trying to raise my hands, but still couldn't quite reach the knife. Without thinking, I lightly
jumped backward. This resulted in a scream—a tearing pain shot through me, and I almost fainted.
As I struggled to regain my balance, I relaxed my control over urination, and I became distracted.

A warm, pungent stream, smelling of urine, rushed
out like a burst dam… No, not like that. Because of the knots, it wasn't flowing smoothly, and the feeling was awful (like having kidney stones
). I tried to hold it in, to stop it, but how could I do that now? An indescribable
sense of left me blank, and tears instantly blurred my vision. Yet, my body was experiencing
sensations completely different from my mind; the pleasure of being enslaved and the unrestrained flow of urine together propelled me to a sadomasochistic climax.
(I'm so confused, how could this happen? Is this real?) Urine slowly trickled down between my legs,
so much, seemingly endless—the malicious handiwork of the knotted rope!

I hated that it couldn't let me vent completely. A large puddle of foul-smelling urine had accumulated beneath me,
flowing down the clean floor tiles towards the lower areas. Worse still, the urine had filled my
high heels, completely soaking my feet in this disgusting liquid. It made my feet slippery, making it
even harder to control the high heels. And I even wondered if my beloved high heels would be damaged.
After the pleasure subsided, a strong sense of filth overwhelmed my entire being. My penis was still wet and stinging;
I knew I had indeed injured myself. "Won't it get infected? Won't I get some kind of gynecological disease?" I even
considered STDs. Fear chilled me to the bone. Had I gone too far in my self-slavery? What if something
happened? The lingering fear made my tears flow even more. Now I desperately wanted to end my self-
slavery .

But I hadn't lost my mind. I had to take it one step at a time, otherwise the consequences would be unimaginable. I thought this...
It's because I overthink things; my fear of the worst always makes me consider everything carefully. I think
I must do this no matter what. Having gotten the knife, cutting the rope wasn't difficult. Now I could jump anywhere.
However, the urine on the floor made the tiles a bit slippery, and my feet, soaked in urine in my shoes, were even more difficult
to control. As I jumped towards the stairs, my feet slipped inside my shoes, and my high heels slid across the floor, causing me to fall uncontrollably
to one side. By the time I realized what had happened, my right arm had already slammed heavily onto the hard, damp
floor tiles.

The excruciating pain made me fear that my right arm was broken; if that happened, I would be finished. I tried to move on the ground using my right side as leverage
, and thankfully, apart from the pain, there didn't seem to be any signs of a broken bone. I sighed,
and unconsciously pressed my face against the floor. A pungent smell of urine jolted me awake: I was lying in my own urine
, my face and even my body covered in it. I frantically tried to wipe it away, but to no avail
. The foul odor emanated from around my nose, onto the gag, and even onto my
lips. I felt nauseous, wanting to vomit. Although it was my own urine, it was still urine.

I knew I couldn't vomit, and I tried my best to suppress the urge, but I couldn't stop the saliva
from welling up in my mouth (it sounds better than saliva, doesn't it?). The gag already filled my mouth with
this saliva, and I kept swallowing to prevent it from spilling out. Now the reaction was even worse, and
the feeling wasn't as good as before. Every swallow intensified my urge to vomit.

The cold floor and the urine made me feel so cold. The air conditioning was still on, and I couldn't turn it off.
I should be on time, but being bound always makes me feel very hot. I've experienced this before, but I never expected it to be
like this .

I know that movement makes my body warm.

As long as I'm being unbound, I won't feel cold, but now lying on the floor, I
don't have much room to move, and I dare not move too much in the urine. The problem now is how to
get up from the floor. I'm struggling; it's really difficult, especially in the unbearable
urine . My leg binders severely restrict standing. I previously only mentioned the function of the horizontal strap of the "丰"-shaped leg binders,
but this vertical strap restricts the degree of bending of the legs. I think that for someone who has been bound, getting up from the ground
largely depends on bending their legs. My legs cannot bend much, making it
difficult for me to stand up. If my legs weren't bound like this, I would struggle to roll over, lift my body with my head,
kneel, and then use the strength of my knees to stand up. Although it's not as easy as it sounds,
it's doable, isn't it? If I can't stand up, I won't be able to complete the process of freeing myself.

This means I'll have to wait for someone to rescue me, and all my secrets will be completely exposed
. It will spread like a plague, and I can't imagine what the consequences will be. So I must stand up. It's almost three o'clock, and I can't
wait any longer. I think I need to use something to help myself stand. I saw a sofa that wasn't very high; it
seemed to be the only object I could use in the living room, but it was still a bit far from me. Moving myself wasn't difficult, but
it made me get even more covered in urine! I couldn't care less about that anymore;
I had to free myself before dawn. Now I desperately wanted to end my self-imposed enslavement.

But I hadn't lost my mind. I had to take it one step at a time, otherwise the consequences would be unimaginable. I think this
is because I overthink things; the fear of the worst always makes me consider everything carefully. I think I must do this no matter what
. I got the knife, and cutting the rope wasn't difficult. Now I can jump around freely.
However, the urine on the floor made the tiles a bit slippery, and my feet, soaked in urine inside my shoes, were even more difficult
to control . As I jumped towards the stairs, my feet slipped inside my shoes, and my high heels slid across the floor, causing me
to fall uncontrollably to one side. By the time I realized what had happened, my right arm had already slammed heavily onto the hard, damp
floor tiles. The excruciating pain made me fear that my right arm was broken; if that happened, I would be finished. I tried to
move on the ground using my right side as leverage, and thankfully, apart from the pain, there didn't seem to be any signs of a broken bone. I breathed a
sigh of relief and inadvertently pressed my face against the floor. A stench of urine jolted me awake: I was lying in
my own urine, and my face and even my body were covered in it. I frantically tried to wipe it off,
but to no avail. The foul odor emanated from right next to my nose, onto my gag,
and even onto my lips. I felt nauseous and wanted to vomit. Although it was my own urine, it was
still urine. I know I can't vomit, and I try my best to suppress the urge, but I can't
stop the saliva from flowing from my mouth (it sounds better than drool, right?).

The gag already fills my mouth with this saliva, and I've been swallowing to prevent it from spilling out
, but now the reaction is worse, and it doesn't feel as good as before. Every swallow intensifies my
urge to vomit. The cold floor and the urine make me feel so cold. The air conditioning is still on, and I can't
turn it off. I'm supposed to be on time, but being bound always makes me feel hot; I've tried it before, but I never expected it
to be like this today. I know that movement warms my body. As long as I'm being unbound, I
won't feel cold, but now lying on the floor, I don't have much room to move, and I dare not move too much in
the urine . The problem now is how to get up from the floor. I'm struggling; it's really
difficult, especially in the unbearable urine. My leg bindings severely restrict my ability to stand.

Previously, I only mentioned the function of the horizontal leather straps in the "丰" (feng) shape of the leg bindings, while the vertical straps restrict
the degree of bending of the legs. I think that for someone who has been bound, standing up from the ground largely depends on bending their legs
. My legs cannot bend significantly, making it very difficult for me to stand up. If my legs weren't bound
like this , I would struggle to roll over, lift my body using my head, kneel, and then use the strength of my knees
to stand up. Although it wouldn't be as easy as it sounds, it's achievable, isn't it? If I can't
stand up, I won't be able to complete the process of freeing myself. This means I'll have to wait for someone to rescue me, and all my privacy
will be completely exposed. It will spread like a plague, and I can't imagine what the consequences would be. So I must
stand up. It's almost three o'clock; I can't wait any longer.

I think I need something to help me stand up.

I see a low sofa, which seems to be the only thing I can use in the living room, but it
's a bit far away. Moving myself isn't difficult, but it makes me even more covered
in urine ! I can't care about that anymore; I need to free myself before dawn. Now I'm reacting more strongly, and it doesn't
feel as good as before. Every time I swallow, it intensifies my urge to vomit.

The cold floor and the urine make me feel so cold. The air conditioning is still on, but I can't turn it off.
I should be on time, but being bound always makes me feel hot. I've tried it before, but I didn't expect it to be
like this . Movement makes my body warm, I know. As long as I'm untying myself, I won't
feel cold, but now lying on the floor, I don't have much room to move, and I dare not move too much in the urine
. The problem now is how to get up from the floor.

I'm struggling; it's really hard, especially in the unbearable urine. My leg bindings
really restrict my ability to stand up. Previously, I only mentioned the function of the horizontal strap of the "丰"-shaped leg bindings, while the vertical strap
restricts the degree of bending of the legs. I think that for someone who has been bound, standing up from the ground largely
depends on bending their legs.

My legs cannot bend significantly, making it difficult for me to stand up.

If my legs weren't bound like this, I would struggle to roll over, lift my body using my head
, kneel, and then use the strength of my knees to stand up. Although it wouldn't be as easy as it sounds,
it's achievable, isn't it? If I can't stand up, I won't be able to complete the process of freeing myself. This means I have to
wait for someone to rescue me, and all my privacy will be completely exposed. It will spread like a plague, and I can't imagine
what the consequences would be. So I must stand up. It's almost three o'clock, and I can't wait any longer.

I think I need to use something to help myself stand up. I saw a sofa that wasn't very high; it
seemed , but it was still a bit far away. Moving myself wasn't difficult, but
it made me get covered in even more urine! I couldn't care less about this anymore; I had to free myself and stand up before dawn
. I saw a low sofa, which seemed to be the only thing I could
lean on , but it was still a bit far from me.

Moving myself wasn't difficult, but it made me cover myself in even more urine! I couldn't
care less about this anymore; I had to free myself before dawn.

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