© Copyright 2003 - Cinch - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbm; spandex; unitard; bodybag; enclosed; stuck; F/m; cons; X
First off, let me say that I have been into bondage all my life. One of my first memories as a child is curling myself into a ball in the bottom of a sleeping bag, then rolling around, trying to make it as difficult as possible to get out. I must have been four or five years old. Through the years my attempts at self-bondage got better, more and more effective. Thankfully, I never got totally stuck, although I came very close on several occasions.
I also developed a fetish for women in anything tight fitting. A picture of a woman in a wet suit, or in a leotard and tights was a thrill in and of itself. I grew up during the late 60s & early 70s, so of course, I loved Mrs. Peel of The Avengers. I dreamed of being in her place, wearing her catsuit, tied up as she so often was.
When I was 22, around Halloween I dared to go into a dancewear store to buy a leotard and tights, under the guise of buying a costume. The girl helping me out suggested an alternative, which is how the term “unitard” came into my vocabulary. When I tried it on in the in the fitting room, I realized this was quite possibly the perfect outfit.
It was a dozen more years before I met the woman who was to become my wife. I could not have been more lucky (OK -- maybe I could have -- I could have met her ten years earlier). This wonderful woman not only loves me to the ends of the earth, she also shares my fondness for bondage and unitards. Sure, she is not into it to the degree that I am, but to say the least, she more than tolerates my interests.
We have recently come into possession of what must be nearly the ultimate in both the bondage and unitard categories: a Max Cita Denim Body Bag (www.maxcita.com), and a Baltog hooded, footed, & fingered unitard (www.nydancewear.com).
The Max Cita Denim Body Bag is what it sounds like: a tight fitting bag that covers the wearer from the neck to the toes, custom made to your dimensions. It has a zipper in front which starts at the ankles and goes up to the turtle neck. The zipper has three sliders, so once the first slider zips you in, the bottom two sliders can be moved to your crotch and opened to provide access. Laces over the zipper make it fit even tighter. What makes the bag so perfect for bondage is the inner sleeves: they are attached to the inside of the bag, like two deep pockets that run from your armpit to fingertip. Once you are zipped in, with your arms in the sleeves, there is absolutely no way out. To top it off, the bag has rings which can be used to firmly attach the bag to a bed, further restricting your movement.
For a Spandex fetishist, the Baltog hooded, footed, & fingered unitard is about as far as you can go: it covers every square inch of you in a tight fitting unitard, from head to toe, and fingertip to fingertip. The Spandex even covers your face, but your vision is only slightly impaired. Being the seamstress she is, my wife added a cock sleeve, making it more anatomically correct.
In the past, my wife and I had played with these many times, and I had used them as part of my self-bondage several times, but I had never dared to try the body bag with my arms in the sleeves, because I knew I would not be able get out by myself. However, I had decided the time had come to give it a shot, but of course, with a planned escape route.
It was a Friday night. I came home early from work and carefully set everything up: I put on the unitard, strapped the empty body bag snugly to the bed, and put in a Dorothy Laine video, the one with her in straitjackets. I then called my wife at work to confirm what time she would be home; I had about a half hour. Just to make this a little more exciting, I had taken a Viagra earlier, so the timing should be perfect.
I began my entry to the bag, zipping up to my waist, and positioning the other sliders to open the bag at my crotch, with my Spandex encased erection protruding. The Viagra had not yet kicked in, so this was still just my natural excitement. I laced up the bag, but only waist high, because I still needed to be able to put my arms in the inside sleeves. I ran a string from a weight I hung over the headboard, down through the upper zipper slider, then clamped the end between my teeth, biting it through the Spandex. After hitting "play" on the VCR remote, I began carefully slipping my arms into the sleeves. As I did so, I leaned back, and the zipper moved up a little. This was getting pretty exciting. Once I was flat on my back with my arms fully in the sleeves, I tugged with my teeth a few times and the zipper slid up some more. I was nearing the point of no return. I had to jiggle and tug, but soon it was all the way up to my neck, and I let go of the string. I was trapped like I had never been before, Spandexed from head to toe, snugly zipped into an escape proof body bag!
Through the Spandex covering my eyes, I looked down at my handiwork: I was a mummy, completely encased in Spandex, then sealed in the body bag from the neck down. The bag had rings down the side at the ankles, knees, thighs, hips, waist, chest, just below the shoulders, and on top of the shoulders. Straps ran left and right from each pair of rings to the bed frame, so I could not move side to side, plus from the ankle rings to foot board, and from the top shoulder rings to the headboard, so I could not move up or down either. There was no doubt about it, I was not getting out of this one by myself. I was thrilling, looking down at my hard-on, just as trapped in its Spandex as I was.
I laid there for a while, just watching the video. Time passed. I watched Dorothy Laine struggle as I did the same, though I could barely move. I could do nothing but wait for my wife; unable to reach my hard-on or roll over, I could not even masturbate. The frustration was tremendous, and my anticipation was building as the Viagra began to take effect. Then, the phone rang -- four times before the machine finally answered. It was my wife: "Hi, honey. I'm calling from my cell phone. Gina called just as I was getting ready to leave. I have not seen her for quite a while, and we really wanted to get together, so we decided to go out to a movie. I am on the way to Gina's now. Since she lives way out at the beach, I am planning on staying the night at her house. I should be back tomorrow around lunch. See you then. If you need anything, just page me. I love you! Bye, Hon."
NO! I tried to throw myself at the machine, but the bed hardly even creaked. It was useless! If you have never been bound, unable to respond to something like that, you can not possibly imagine what it is like. The machine was barely three feet from my head, all I had to do was pick up the phone, or even just tap the speaker phone button and I could have explained to her what was going on, but I could not budge. I was trapped by my own hand!
I struggled as hard as I could, even though I knew it was in vein. I looked at the girl in the video, thinking how we were both bound to the point that there was nothing we could do about it. The main difference is she had someone else there to let her out, I did not.
It was obvious I could not get out alone, I began to consider my options:
Option 1, I could yell, hoping the neighbors would hear me. They both had keys to our house, so they could get in, but what would they think when they found me? I did not know what would be more embarrassing, being trussed in a body bag, being in a full coverage anatomically correct unitard, the bondage video playing, or being hard as a rock.
Option 2, I could stay quiet, and wait for my wife to get home tomorrow. I would get hungry, but that would be bearable. I could go that long without taking a shit, but I doubted I could avoid taking piss, which meant pissing on myself, and I am not into golden showers. And what if I began to lose circulation in an arm or leg? That seemed like it might be dangerous. I could not think of an option 3.
To be safe, I decided to go with option 1. I would yell, but I would wait for the video to finish off first. That way, I could hear neighbors, plus it removed one of the embarrassing issues, albeit the most minor one. There was still about fifteen minutes of Ms. Laine tugging against her straitjacket, so I figured I might as well try to escape also, just in the remote chance the straps might come loose from the bed frame. Of course, even if they did, there was still the little matter of being zipped into an escape proof body bag, but one thing at a time. After all, at least if I could move around, I could dial the phone with my nose. Anyway, I struggled, and I struggled, and I struggled some more, but nothing. The only thing that changed was I got harder, more frustrated, and now I was sweating. The video had long since ended, but I had not yet heard either of the neighbors outside, so I realized this might still take a while.
It must have been a couple of hours before I heard our neighbor Beth parking her car, then walking up the driveway. It was now or never. "Hey, Beth. I have a bit of a problem, and I really need your help," I yelled out. The window was open, so she easily heard me.
"Sure, what's the problem?" she replied.
"Kind of hard to explain, and also rather personal. Could you please let yourself in with our house key, then come back into the bedroom? I'm afraid I can't answer the door." This was without a doubt the most bizarre conversation I had ever had.
"I don't get it -- what's going on? Can't Denise let me in?" she asked.
"Denise isn't here," I said.
Just then, Denise walked into the bedroom and said, "It took you long enough. I was wondering what you would finally do. I have been here since a few minutes after my call. When you called me at work, I suspected you might be up to something like, so I made up the story about going to Gina's. I snuck in quietly, and guess what, I was right!"
"Oh, what a relief. Now could you let me out. I've been in this thing for quite a while now."
"Nope. I think you need some meditation time, alone." About this time we both heard the key in the front door. "I think I'm going visit with Beth for a while. See you in an hour or two. Love you lots!" She pushed play on the VCR again and walked out. Is it any wonder I love her so?
Although the setup is true, this story is fiction. For those of you who practice self-bondage, please be careful and ALWAYS provide an emergency escape.