I was going to try something I had never tried before, and I was sure it was going to work. It all seemed so simple at first, so easy and so freeing. The idea, given to me by one of my friends, was so intriguing at the time I could not stop myself from thinking about it.
It had been a solid three days since the idea lodged itself in my brain and as soon as I heard it, I knew it was something I wanted to try. The thought had sat in the back of my mind, festering and growing until I could not possibly wait another moment. I was going to do it.
I was going to tie myself up, upside-down, hanging from the ceiling in my garage with a vibrating egg inserted into my pussy.
It was going to be glorious. A girlfriend of mine and of similar build to me seemed so excited at her new found pleasure; I just had to try it.
So that is why I found myself standing in a musty smelling, dingy, grimy and overstocked porn store. How could a place be this dirty yet smell like someone spilled an entire bucket of sanitizer all over the place?
This building was a rundown gas station converted to serve pornography. It sat off exit 64 on I-92 and was a literal shit-hole. If this was not the only store within 50 miles that sold these kinds of things, I’d have gone somewhere else.
As soon as I walked in the powerful concoction of odors and aromas smacked me in the face. Eyebrows upturned, throat clenching and lunch churning in my stomach, I pressed forward; what I wanted outweighed all of what this store could throw at me.
As I browsed the isles and assembled my necessary tool-kit, I couldn’t help but breathe through my mouth and watch where my feet landed on the floor. Midway up isle (2) the floor was coated in some sticky substance I dare not tread on. It smelled like strawberry jam, so I assumed it was lube.
When I finally got back to the register, I had all I needed: 100ft length rope, (2) sets of fuzzy handcuffs, (1) ball gag, and the vibrating egg. The egg was by far the most expensive, but it was also the crucial ingredient to my plan. The box, hot pink with flowers on its sides (of course), claimed it had 10 different settings and an incredible long battery life. It also had a wireless controller so I could keep the remote in my hand, controlling its settings.
After paying my total in cash and receiving my change, I darted out the door and longed for fresh air and a shower. The unusually hot air clung to me in ways I really didn’t care for. Being mid-May in Pennsylvania, you’d think the weather would be cooler than it was, but the weathermen were predicting a scorcher of a weekend to follow.
Once safely tucked into my SUV, I smiled the coy smile of a person who is way too pleased with themselves. This was really happening.
Upon arriving home, my cat Baxter greeted me and started immediately whining that he was dying of starvation and couldn’t possibly wait another second. My bags I placed on the kitchen counter and I was lead into the kitchen by my furry companion.
I live in a 2 bedroom apartment with my boyfriend of 3 years. He travels a lot for his business and that is most of the time ok by me. Sometimes I miss him terribly, and I usually react like Baxter when he returns (except for the feed me I’m gonna starve attitude). Our apartment is a two story building in an apartment complex with a personal garage underneath our rooms. The garage was nothing to speak of, a simple one car space with little on the walls.
Once my cat was taken care of I set to work. It was Friday afternoon and Greg, my boyfriend, wasn’t expected back till Monday afternoon at the earliest. I had told exactly no one I was attempting this, so I had the apartment at my disposal all weekend.
We had kept the garage very clean, ever since we moved in two and a half years ago. We had painted and sealed the floor last year and it still looked very good despite having our cars drive all over it. There wasn’t much on the walls, because most of Greg’s tools were in a storage cabinet in the corner. We did have a three step ladder hanging from a hook next to the door and that is what I would need first.
Greg had installed a chin up bar in the middle of the garage away from where the garage door lifted up and away from the small set of stairs leading into the house. It was about 10 feet away from everything in the garage and centered in the middle of the ceiling.
Greg could simply jump up and grab onto the bar, it wasn’t that high off the ground, especially for him being 6’-2”. But for me being 5’-6”, I was never able to just jump and grab it. It was at least 4-6 inches away every time I tried.
The only other thing I needed to perform my high-wire act (as I started calling it to myself) was a sandbag to act as counterweight. Being athletic and a cheerleader in high school, I pretty much stayed at around 130 lbs. The sandbag we sometimes used as a doorstop for the back door weighted about 100 lbs. I was betting it, along with the tension on the rope, would keep me off the ground.
I took the end of the rope and triple tied it to the top of the sand bag (only after dragging that large S.O.B. into the garage). Baxter was curious, so he followed me and inspected my progress. The knot was tied very tight, and I was very sure it was not coming loose anytime soon.
The next step was to position the step ladder under the chin-up bar and get the 100 lb bag onto that top step. After a lot of grunting and lifting, I was finally able to lift it from one step to the next all the way up to the third and final step. I had also managed to work up a tremendous sweat in the process.
I slung the rope over the chin up bar and let the remainder come down on the other side. The counter weight was in place. I then lifted off my shirt and started disrobing.
After kicking the remainder of my clothes into one of the corners of the garage, I stepped onto the first step of the ladder, completely naked and still sweating.
I secured the first set of fuzzy handcuffs around my ankles and looped the rope in between my legs. I had practiced some self bondage before in my teenage years, so where I needed the rope to go came naturally to me.
Before I tied up my hands, I made sure the ball gag was in place. I secured it behind my head and felt a little drool slide down my lower lip. A grin then filled my face as I started on my hands.
My goal was to hang feet up, head down, so I needed to sit on the sandbag on the top step and lift my feet into the air. I tied the last bit of the rope onto the other pair of handcuffs and secured both my wrists behind my back. I had the vibrating egg in hand by this point and I proceeded to try it out.
I was soaked so the egg slipped in rather easily. It was made of a hard plastic material but as it sat just inside me I could have sworn it disappeared. Once I hit the on button on the remote, BOOM, yep, it was in there, pressing against every sensitive spot it could find.
I followed my work to make sure I had it all set up correctly. The sandbag, still on the top step of my ladder, had the rope tied onto it on the one end. The rope looped up and over the chin-up bar overhead and came back down in front of me, also on the step ladder. My feet were handcuffed and my hands were handcuffed and both were secured by the rope. The vibrating egg was inserted into my pussy and humming away soundly. If I chose to sit here, on the sandbag, for a couple of moments longer, I would most certainly feel myself orgasm.
Just as I was thinking this, the unthinkable occurred. Baxter, who was scratching at something (probably a bug), leapt 3 feet into the air and bolted for the entry door to the house. The sound and the movement startled me and as a result caused me to shift my weight on the ladder. The sandbag moved with me and as we shifted, the ladder toppled and slid sideways.
I felt the rope jerk and my ankles were thrust into the air and my body started to swing on the rope. The sandbag slammed onto the garage floor and then sat motionless. The remote to the vibrating egg slipped out of my hands and fell toward the floor. The vibrating egg itself hummed away inside me and I clenched my eyes and felt myself convulse with an orgasm.
‘Oh. My. God.’ It was incredible. Despite the biting pain in my ankles and the blood rushing to my head, I was naked, vulnerable, sweating and cumming all at the same time.
Then the thought struck me…I had not planned for the sandbag to fall. I was stuck in this position with no way down. The handcuff keys were in my pants pocket in the corner, the ladder had slid almost to the far wall and…
‘Oh. My. Fucking. God.’ I was cumming again. My ass flexed and my heart pounded as another powerful orgasm erupted inside me. This time I was unable to bite back my sighs and let out a low moan as I shook on the rope.
As I snapped back to reality I realized my ankles were really starting to hurt, but not in an unbearable way. Whatever fuzzy material that was around the cuffs sure worked well to stop it digging into me, or breaking my ankles when I fell off the ladder.
My body swayed still from the tumble off the ladder and I remembered the vibrating egg controller. As I craned my neck around looking at the floor, trying to see where it had …
‘Holy. Fuck. Damnit.’ Another orgasm. This one more powerful than the first two. I don’t know if it was the desperation of the moment or the movement of my body as I tried to find that fucking remote, but it caused my legs to shake and my juices to flow out of me.
I started wildly struggling against my handcuffs in an attempt to get free, but as I struggled I felt my muscles tighten again, preparing for another immense rupture.
I felt my neck slack and I looked down toward the ground. I saw the drool dripping down from the ball gag in my mouth and onto the floor. I also felt my pussy juices running down my stomach, my ass and my back. If I didn’t find that fucking remote soon…
‘Shit. Fuck. Whore.’ Another body shaking orgasm. I couldn’t take much more of this. The most I had ever come at one time (before this) was 3 times, and that was when Greg and I had come home from the bar late one night and ravaged each other.
I searched the ground a second time. My head was about 8 inches off the floor, but I was right at eye level with the top of the sandbag. That’s when I saw it. The remote! On the sandbag! What great fortune, what tremendous…
‘Ahhh! Holy. Fuck.’ A mixture of tears, saliva, sweat and cum ran down various parts of me. My muscles shook and my heart raced. I was crying from the pain of having cum so many times and a little dizzy from the rush of blood to my head.
As I sobbed, I could only think “I have to get to that remote. I have to turn it off somehow”.
I started to swing myself toward the sandbag. Just as I felt my hair brush the sandbag I felt another swell of …
‘MMMMMMMMMM….’ Was the only word/sentence/thought/sound I could come up with. My eyes rolled, my body vibrated and my juices continued to flow. I was still swinging so I continued to try for the remote.
I saw that my head would swing right over the one and only button on the remote. The only choice I had was to press my face into the bag and hope some part of it pressed the button and turned it off.
I clenched my hands, gritted my teeth against the ball gag and at the right time closed my eyes and pressed my head down onto the sandbag.
I had not turned it off. I had not turned it down or to a different pace.
I had turned it up. It had been on a lower setting this whole time.
Worse still…I had also knocked it on the floor. There would be no way of reaching for it now.
My teeth chattered on the gag. My legs shook. Sweat covered my body. My cum exploded out of me. I trembled, whimpered, gasped for breathe, cried and came some more. This was it.
I was going to die.
As I hung upside down, cumming uncontrollably, and realizing what my fate would be, I heard something. It sounded like a grinding sound, but it was tough to tell over the sound of the vibrating egg and the tears that filled my eyes.
The grinding sound lasted about 15 seconds and I heard a loud bang. I could hear a voice and shuffling of feet. I also noticed cooler air hit my skin and a different hue to the room than had been before.
As the voice came closer, I could pick out it was my mother. She had opened the garage door, seen me hanging naked and rushed to my side. I couldn’t form words, all I could do is cry. I cried from pain, shame, and embarrassment. I couldn’t hear anything she was telling me, but she did somehow undo the rope from the sandbag and release me to the floor.
My last conscious thought in that moment was me pulling out the vibrating egg and flicking it away from me.
As I came to, I was lying on my couch with hot wraps on my ankles and hands. I had been put into a bath-robe and my restraints had all been removed. My mother sat in the adjacent room watching TV, apparently waiting up for me to come back to consciousness.
I then spent a good 30 to 45 minutes talking to my mother. I have never been able to look at my mother in the same way again, and I doubt she will ever look at me the same either. I have never told Greg about it and I hope to god he never finds out.
And I’ll admit this….Though this was my first time using that vibrating egg, it would not be the last time I had used that vibrating egg.