Drunk

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 handcuffs on 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 now.

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 drunken self?

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 aching arse.

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 list!

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 stranger.

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 fascinated horror:

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 belt.

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 approval.

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'm drunk.

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:

• 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 at work
• 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

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 distant memory.

My conversion to slavery was complete, and I never looked for anything else.

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