Secrets of the Women's Self-Bondage Cult (19 page)
I have met men and women who are two or three times my age and who, like me, are here telling their SB stories. They say it's as good now as it was back then when they were fooling around in the back seats of Ford pick-up trucks or Volkswagens, or getting tied up in the hay in their daddy's barn, so there must be something to this SB stuff.
Chapter Twenty
“No different from wanting hot pepper sauce on your food,”
says this mother of three who has her own private "keep."
Glenda - Creative resources
I am currently single, married once and am now thirty-two years old. My ex husband took my three kids because he had the financial resources and I had none at the time. I see my kids as often as I can, but I live alone and I practice self-bondage in some form almost daily. For nearly ten years, I have been a fan of SB. In that time, I have experimented with a variety of things and enjoyed creating my own bondage equipment. In fact, I think part of the pleasure that I feel comes from knowing that what I am using is of my own design and creation. I know a few people in The Scene and they almost all buy their gear from a variety of sources, much of it on line. I have yet to do that.
When I tell folks that I create my own bondage devices, they tend to look doubtful, as if saying, "How can you make hand cuffs and shackles?" Of course, I don't do that. But anyone can use rope and anyone can make wrist cuffs out of strips of aluminum and copper and brass. Anyone can take lock hasps and connect cuffs with links or short pieces of chain. Back before copper prices went sky high, I used to find copper strips around new houses under construction. Believe it or not, back then they just threw the scrap away and I picked it up and used it to make small sets of wrist cuffs, attaching rings to the outside of the cuff and then, using repair or master links to join the cuffs. I made many collars for myself out of leather scrap and found it rewarding to be able to construct collars that actually fit and felt good on my skin. Leather, being much easier to work than metal, was often my choice. When I wasn't making belts to sell at the flea market, I made collars and cuffs for myself and a few friends who had figured out what I was doing. We had a sort of Bondage Bond among us in this town and we helped each other out when there was some skill or talent one might share or trade with others.
I got many interesting magazines and books from these friends and learned a great deal about BDSM before it was considered trendy. I also learned that the practice was not, as I had feared, a form of insanity and that millions of people practice SB for their own enjoyment or piece of mind much like people play solitaire or build model ships. Without those people and their input, I probably would not be as happy as I have been and I certainly would have continued to worry about what I was doing to myself in my spare moments, locked away in my room or in the attic. Of course, there is always the fear that when you live alone you will get hurt or trapped, but nothing I have ever used seemed hazardous. I don't like any sort of breathing obstruction in my mouth, but I recognize the additional thrill of something in my mouth and a simple few loops of rope pulled between my teeth and tied behind my head seem to do the trick for me.
Straps and belts, along with collars and hand-made cuffs provide the restraint I enjoy. I have made some interesting combination appliances with leather, locks and chain which are very satisfying. I read some of the original Gor books, fascinated by the interplay between science fiction, bondage and alternate societies. I confess to having copied the Serik
[v]
chains concept, but with leather cuffs and collar instead of metal. I can place myself in Serik any time and wander around the house or sit and do my work in comfort, but also in restraint. This works for me. It is neither hurtful nor dangerous, so in that respect I probably differ from some here who are participating in the survey. Realizing that pain plays a part in much SB, I understand why many people want to feel discomfort when bound. I can accept that and see nothing wrong with it. To me, it is no different than some people wanting hot pepper sauce on their food, which burns their mouth and makes their eyes water, but they like the jolt from the hotness and that is fine as long as they don't force it on others.
Chapter Twenty-One
Body piercing plays a role in BDSM.
In combination with a Gothic lifestyle, it is easily united with SB activity.
Hillary - Rings and things
At the age of eighteen, I had several piercings done. I now have a total of seven and they each have a stainless steel ring. In a few instances, when the piercings refused to heal, I had to have the rings removed and the wounds treated before I could put the rings back in, but I have not lived a day without them since the first hollow needle was run through my flesh.
I am into the Gothic lifestyle and find that the rings add a certain authenticity to my beliefs and practices. A verification of my fetishes, I suppose. When I tell people about the rings, if they ask, I try to point out that this is a personal choice that harms no one and that if they are offended by what I have done; I cannot and will not apologize because they are judging me needlessly.
As I write this narrative and as I answered in the interviews and discussions, it is impossible for me to understand what anyone has against my wearing steel rings on my body. If you are a man or a woman who has their ears pierced and wear rings or other devices in your ears, you have every right to do so. I feel that the same rights apply to me and allow me to put rings anywhere I want. I have permanent rings in my nipples. These are set well back from the tips and deeply imbedded in the surrounding tissue. If and when I wear a bra they are partially concealed. Otherwise, they are easily visible. These and other rings play a prominent role in my auto-bondage activities. I'll talk more about this later.
There is a ring imbedded in my tongue. Contrary to what people say or think, it does not hinder my speech and unless you see the ring I doubt you would know it was there. The three remaining rings are in my personal space, between my legs. They are a constant reminder to me that I am my own persona and yet a captive, a slave of my own knowledge and psychology. These three also play a critical role in my SB.
Although I have often lived with other women and occasionally with men, I prefer the single life style. This allows me to dress in as much or as little clothing as I want and to do, within the confines of my home, whatever I want. This means nudity when I want nudity and brevity when I desire it. It also means chains or wire to restrict what I do or say. An interesting day at home, after work, may consist of wiring up a sort of webbing among my rings, chaining my hands and feet, attaching a wide steel collar with three inch spikes to my throat and placing weights on some or all rings. I often use a specially designed and hand-made headpiece that incorporates a gag and utilizes the ear and tongue rings. Obviously, with this on, I am not in a position to entertain visitors and I neither answer the door nor phone while in this contrivance. It is uncomfortable, but effective and, in tandem with the wire web around my body, brings on the strongest sexual stimulation. I have worked out a series of exercises involving wired cunt lips, clitoris, nipple and tongue that make it almost impossible to find any comfortable position or movement. At the far edge of this envelope of pain and discomfort, I can connect my tongue to the web, seal my mouth, ears and eyes and kneel so as to ease the strain on the key rings. Any movement, no matter how small, impacts the connected rings and associated flesh and I respond to this in a wide range of erotic ways.
In on-line discussions with other practitioners of this style of SB, I have heard of accidents where, for example, a ring is ripped from the body part, whichever one, take your pick. The individual who experienced this related later that the worst part of it was having to have the body part sewn back on! Imagine walking into an ER with your left nipple on ice in a cooler, a bloody bandage on your chest or between your legs and asking for someone to sew the parts back together. Certainly, the Goth attire, makeup and hairstyle would be both a help and a hindrance in this kind of situation. My own experience has taught me that the shock of Goth can often get me more and quicker attention just because the people I am dealing with want to get done with me and get me out of their space soon. It also follows that if you were just some normal chick who walks in with a torn off nipple or ripped off labia, you might not get any more attention than the drunk throwing up in the lobby. But, as a Goth, there seems to be a higher level of attention-getting and this, I suppose is good.
How does one tear off a lower lip or nipple? The same way some suburban wife chops off two fingers in her Cuisinart food processor, bypassing the infinite safety features that make such a device nearly unusable, I guess.
The wire web is just one of many SB routines I use. I certainly enjoy attaching weights to my nipple rings and also to the lower ones. I reserve, (most of the time), the clit ring for a long chain leash that might go to a ring on the wall or ceiling. Once again, the Goth life has allowed me to put handy rings and chains in otherwise questionable places in my house. If there happens to be a candle lantern hanging from the ring on the wall, that works, but I don't find it necessary to camouflage my in-house accessories. There are nights when it has been very entertaining to kneel in front of the brick fireplace with this or similar script:
I wear dark black or fish net hose, garter belt, ultra-high black heels, black lace bra with built-in tit corsets and a jeweled leather collar linked to my nipple rings with chains. My elbows are chained behind my back and wrists closely cuffed with custom-made manacles, a thick leather gag holding an inflatable pear in my mouth and my clit ring is locked to a short chain that goes up to an imbedded steel ring on the face of the fireplace.
That's just for starters. I fantasize a story to go with my situation. I am of course, alone. I don't want any company and couldn’t talk to them if I did. I can kneel here for awhile, visualizing the evil assembly of medieval, ghostly inquisitors gathered around me, forcing me to bend forward and shoving things up my ass. They press their point by attaching electrical, (yeah, I know. They didn't have electricity back then), contacts to the inside of my pussy and letting the electricity flow endlessly while I jump around in my chains, tugging helplessly on the places connected to the chain network. If I don't provide them with what they want and they aren't tired from the constant demands my recalcitrance provides, they unlock my hands. The clit chain becomes a leash while I am led down the imaginary dank corridors and to the cellars where they hang me up by my wrists and flog my back, buttocks and legs until they tire of that sport. The corridors are a hallway in my apartment and the cellar is the basement. The flogging is virtual as I seldom can or want to actually beat myself.
Some of this is pure fantasy, but in the early morning hours, I may recover and unfasten myself, go back upstairs and tumble into bed, some chains still attached, and the gag still in my sore mouth. After dawn, I'll unhook the chains and clean up, only to revisit the same scenes later that day when I get back home. If it’s a work day, I'll ponder a bit about what to wear that won't scare the hell out of the customers and geek managers, but usually I vote for the more scandalous outfit or combination that no one has yet seen in the office. Even though the company is part of the film industry and we see a lot of strange outfits, I am treated there like a sort of novelty and with a mixture of jealousy, envy and pure hate, depending on the sex and social persuasions of those doing the observing. When the office manager decided to put me on the reception desk while the nerd-like wimp who usually was there was on vacation, the office staff went a little nutso, especially the sales people, who complained that my being there presented a negative impression to visitors and customers. However, there were enough customers who ogled me and asked me out to counteract that situation and in the end, I got the job permanently, which may not seem like much, but was far better than my former job in the mailroom. The office manager, who was a nice, easy-going middle-aged woman, asked me to try to "look respectable, that's all", She amplified that request by pointing out that while she found my attire and overall appearance fascinating, some visitors might be offended if they should feel that my attire was not appropriate. On that particular day, I was wearing a fitted see-through top and knee length skirt with a slit up to my hip and my chastity belt was, as she put it, perhaps a bit too obvious.
"There is no formal dress code here," she elaborated. "And frankly, I enjoy your presentation, but let's keep it reasonably civil. Okay?"
I agreed with her and would have given up the transparent clothes except that several other young women in the office blew out the door at lunchtime that week and went to Razzberry's, a popular nearby store that featured very chic styles, and bought even more interesting apparel. After that, we all got along fine, but I have worn panties to work ever since. It just seemed fair, given that I have been told by enough people that my looks are excellent, my figure "more than dynamic" and my appearance in general is show-stopping. So, it works for all of us. They enjoy me and I enjoy me too.
Chapter Twenty-Two
This chapter is a direct transcript of a translated session
in which the Asian speaker was interviewed in her native language, although she spoke good English and used many English phrases.