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I woke up, but only just.
I had the taste in my mouth of far too much beer from the night before,
and a thumping headache. Slowly it came back to me... the bar, then
the party, then the club, then the late night club...
I lifted my hand to my head, but it only got half way there,
tugged back by my other hand. I lifted them up to see what was happening,
then realised what I had done.
I'm an occasional self-bondage enthusiast, and sometimes fantasize about
being locked into chains. I have all the gear, but don't often use it.
Just occasionally, when I'm feeling quite adventurous, I'll put on a pair
of handcuffs or leg cuffs before I go to bed.
And I guess last night was just such a night. I must have put these
before going to bed, and now discovering it. I was hung over, and not
really in the mood for bondage games, but it's not like I had a choice
I experimentally lifted a foot, and found, to no great surprise,
my leg cuffs locked on too. There was a chain connected to my handcuffs,
and I found with a bit of tugging that it was connected not only to
my leg cuffs but to the steel collar which appeared to be locked
around my neck too.
So there it was, I had wanted to feel like a chained up prisoner,
and that's just how I felt. I'm sure most prisoners didn't want to
be there and just wanted to be free of it all, and in my hung over
state that's just how I felt too.
But there was a part of me which appreciated the kinky side of my
situation - waking up in chains was a hot fantasy. I moved my hand
down under my duvet to see if the chain was long enough for it
to find my cock. But I didn't expect to hear the clank of metal.
I lifted the duvet to see what my drunken self had done to my
hung over self. And there I found my chastity belt. Shiny steel
and securely locked, my cock trapped deep under the metal barrier.
That was yet another aspect of my kinky situation - chained up and
prevented from any sexual pleasure. Despite the headache, that
started getting me horny. I could feel my trapped cock rising
to the situation, yet still trapped in the small tube in the belt.
But then another surprise - the spikes! As my cock expanded, I started
to feel sharp spikes pressing into its sides. It started to get painful,
then suddenly turned very painful. My hands rushed to its aid, only
to clash against the steel protector.
My evil, foolish, drunken self had decided it would be 'fun' to
install the 'stimulator', a set of small spikes which fit inside
the cock tube of the belt, to 'punish' the wearer for any
excitement which may be attempted. I had tried it out a few times
when I first bought the chastity belt, but had soon decided it was
just too painful when I started to get hard, and given up on it.
Mercifully, I managed to calm myself down enough to rescind my erection
and the pain went away. Despite the kinkiness of waking up in
such bondage, I would have to not think about it until I'd got
out of the belt, and to not even think about what I would do then.
I got out of bed, rattling as I went. I felt a strange sensation
as I moved, and worked out it was something going on around my arse.
I reached around the back of my chastity belt, and found that, secured
to the rear bar was the base of a butt plug! I didn't have much of
an idea how big it might be, except that it felt plenty big
and was secured to the belt with a padlock, so there was no getting
it out without the keys.
I walked over to the draw where I keep my kinky gear to get the keys.
However, to my surprise, after rummaging around the draw, no keys
were there. I looked a bit further around the room, but found none.
I went to get some aspirin while pondering my situation. I hadn't realised
quite how cunning my drunken self was, but I would have to outwit
him... I mean, me. Surely my sober self was cleverer than my
I found a clue, which was just what I was worrying about. A muddy
footprint near the patio door, probably from me stepping into
a flower bed last night. Evidence suggested that the keys I was seeking
were probably in the garden shed - plus the fact that they weren't
anywhere in the house I could find.
So I only needed to walk out through the garden to the shed.
And on the way, I could say 'hello' to my neighbour who was currently
gardening. And then I could explain why I was covered in chains
and wearing secure steel underwear...
There was no sort of clothing I could think of that I could put
on, given that my hands and feet were locked together and chained
to my collar. Perhaps I could put a blanket over me, but that
would be no less strange than my bondage self.
I was trapped. Until night fall when I could run through the garden
unnoticed, I was trapped in my house. I had actually made myself into
a chained up prisoner, trapped inside a house all day, unable to touch
his cock or even get this butt plug out of himself. Once again, my
situation got me horny, then got me doubled up in pain.
And not for the last time. Foolishly, instead of doing something
to take my mind off it like reading a book, I had chosen to go online
and type to people in chat rooms about how I was chained up and horny.
Many wanted to see me on webcam, they wouldn't believe my bondage
state, and still didn't believe that I didn't have the keys.
Often they would say very sexy things to me, just to see
the look of pain on my face.
It was summer, so night came late. But eventually, it came, and
I thought it was dark enough to be able to run through the garden
without arousing suspicion.
I was ready. I had tied some socks around strategic parts of my
chains to stop them rattling. I opened the patio door and got
about 10 steps when I was dazzled by a brilliant light! I had
forgotten about my security light, designed to alert me of
'strange people' in my garden at night - and who could be
stranger than me!
I dashed back in the house. Fortunately, I could switch it off by
pulling a fuse, so was able to venture into the garden
while it kept its darkness.
I made it to the shed. No less than
three padlocks had been used to keep the door bolted, however I
had seen this during the day and had found all the keys hidden
around the house. After some rattling of keys, I went in.
There were keys thrown all over the place - some on the work
surface, some in buckets, even one in the bottom of a paint
tin (fortunately empty). I made quick work of matching the
keys to locks and freeing myself.
I was particularly pleased when I found the key to release
my butt plug. I didn't wait around, I grabbed all the rest
then ran into the house to the toilet to relieve my
The shed held all the keys to all the locks I was wearing,
except one. The chastity belt was still firmly locked in place.
I went back to the shed, now clothed normally, and rummaged
but couldn't find it even thought I looked for it everywhere.
That is, everywhere except inside my digital safe.
My drunken self was
certainly cunning, I shook the safe and there was definitely
something small like a key inside.
The safe is operated by a number you can set
when you lock it. I tried the usual setting of "0000" but of course
that didn't work. I tried every other number I could think
of, but nothing shifted the secured door of the safe.
The safe had a backup manual key opening for just such
emergencies, but of course I threw that key away years ago,
as that would be 'more fun'!
I pondered what I might have done... what number I might
have used, or where I might have written it down.
Then I realised the significance of something I found earlier
on, which I didn't think anything of at the time. In the shed
I found my mobile phone. Perhaps I had called or texted someone
and sent them the number, asking them to return it in a
few days or something.
Finally, I had proof that my sober self really was cleverer
than my drunken self - my phone keeps a record of all text
messages sent. I only needed to look in my 'sent items'
folder and read the message.
I was horrified to find it was empty! There were no sent
messages at all - or, rather, my drunk self was clever enough
to realise my sober self would look there, and had cleared
The chilling fact was that it almost certainly indicated I
had sent a text while drunk, and had not wanted me to read
it, so the key to my freedom really was in the hands of
someone else, and I had no way to know who!
I went back into the house, trying to think who it might
have been. I tried a few friends, not really thinking
they might be my key holder but having to try anyway.
I made up a story about being very drunk and apologising
if I called or texted them. Either they didn't know what
I was talking about, or they were being clever and
playing dumb, but I expected the former.
I also thought about ways to open the safe, like
dropping a big rock onto it, but that would be as likely
to crush the key as anything. Or to break into the belt,
but that would be difficult, dangerous, and expensive.
I went back to bed. I woke up several times in agony
as I'd got hard in the night and the spikes had drilled
into my tender flesh. I got up in the morning feeling
like I'd hardly slept.
The irony was not lost on me - for years I'd fantasised
about being kept locked in chastity, and now it had happened
thanks to a few too many beers, and I just wanted out
of it. But still I went online to the chat rooms
and talked about it, and the guys talked back to me,
and that got me horny and in pain again.
Finally, after about 40 hours in bondage, I got an email.
It was from a guy I occasionally chatted to online about
bondage and submission. His online nick was Master Harsh,
but his real name was Jeremy. We had talked about him
dominating me, but it was only online talk and we both
knew it would never come to anything.
Or so I thought, but now the email I received read:
Boy, you have made the right decision. I will take you
to the state of submission and worship of your
Master that you have always craved. Stand by for
orders from your new Master.
I was speechless! I had never imagined doing something
like actually giving him control over my chastity belt.
I didn't really have any idea what he would be like
as a Master. It was quite frightening to think that
control of my future was in the hands of this relative
I tried to remember all the things I had talked to
him about. I must have told him about things that
I thought a 'real master' should do to his slave,
how the slave should be treated. Had he really taken
all that on board, and was now going to give me back
what I had asked for?
I then realised that I had not though to look in my
email 'sent items'. And, sure enough, is the mail
that I sent while I was drunk. I read with
Sir, it is with humility that this slave submits
his body to your service. To prove my devotion
to you, I have already sent a text message
containing the 16 digit combination to the
digital safe containing the keys to my chastity
I am currently locked in neck, wrist and ankle
chains, and wearing the largest butt plug
that I own, and I hope this meets with your
This slave needs to be taught that my cock is not
my own and must not be used for my own pleasure.
I hope you will ensure that my cock is kept
secured away from mis-use until such time
as you consider I have learned enough about being
a slave and it is safe to release it, however
many weeks and months that may take.
I will endeavour to complete any and all tasks
you may wish to set me, however humiliating
or degrading they may be, and I understand
that my failure
to meet your high standards will result in my
failing to earn the title of 'slave' and so
failing to earn release from the chastity belt.
Your obedient servant.
Weeks and months! Humiliating and degrading!
What the hell had I got myself into!?
And I was surprised how eloquently I write when
I tried to reason with him. I send him a mail
explaining what had happened and that I didn't
really mean all I said. He replied, explaining
that I had meant it at the time I sent it, and
that he thought it would do me good to learn
to be a slave for a while.
I could do nothing. I went along with the plan.
He sent me orders, which included:
Some of these things he couldn't even verify
that I was doing them, but I did them anyway,
as it gave me a sense of purpose - I think I
really was turning into his slave, just there
for whatever task his whim decides for me.
Weeks did turn into months, and in time the
escape from chastity became less important.
In the beginning I would hint at wanting to
be freed, but then I started to forget that
there was any alternative to being locked up.
Orgasm changed from being a craving to being a
My conversion to slavery was complete,
and I never looked for anything else.
- Taking a picture of myself naked except for
chastity in some public place at night
- Working out on webcam, doing dozens of
press-up, sit-ups etc
- Wearing a butt plug for long periods,
when I go out, when I'm asleep, sometimes
- Wearing very short shorts or tight
tops or other things that would look
out of place, and getting people to take
pictures of me like I'm a tourist
- Writing lines of text, sometimes copying
from a book, sometimes just repeated lines
- Cleaning my house, cleaning my shoes,
cleaning my car even when I've just finished
cleaning any of them
Other people have made these comments:
- wow, wish i had the gear to do this, as well as the audacity and someone to hold the key
- Wish it was me all locked up like that!!
- Does that locking butt plug exist anyplace?
- yes the but plug exists! (I had been searching for a site check tolly)
- damn love to be locked up like that too
- Just the fantasy I have - great!
- who wants to do this to me i have a collection of male chastity devices