I picked Chris up at his house Friday morning. We did some marketing on the way back to my place. We had previously gone over the plans and strategy, having exchange emails, and he having spent an afternoon and evening practicing on me. It was the middle of the afternoon by the time we were ready to begin. Chris had me put two stuffers in my diaper as I would wear it until the following day. I wore the same short t-shirt and socks the entire time.
I was compliant and helpful getting into my bonds. I wanted to do this, to have this experience, and we had agreed that my cooperation could be counted on until the clock started. The next thing that went on was the eye patches, which I put on myself. Chris put me into the boot that Max made for the Psycho, then the straitjacket itself, and the Psycho hood. He attached the D-ring on the bottom of the boot to the bed, used a tether or leash on the collar, and HR bed straps on my body (see Photo 1).
It was 3:15 PM on Friday, September 2 when Chris declared that the bondage-clock would start. He left me there, lying on my back, to contemplate my situation. I had, all along, some mixed feelings and reservations about doing this. There were times when I was about to change my mind and forget about this. There were other times when I thought that a shorter duration would be better. I anticipated some discomfort, even pain. I didnít have a clue as to how I would spend my time. I need to mention that for the 3-day experience I was allowed to watch TV and did not have eye patches on, or a hood on all the time, so contemplating what it would be like not having something to do raised my insecurity. I told myself that opportunities like this donít come often, and that it is something I want, after all, so what the hell, go for it! I figured that I could take naps, or fantasize, to pass the time.
|My time for insecurity was over, however. I was secure now; I was very secure and I wasnít going anywhere. Two weeks prior to this I injured my right shoulder exercising and had some reservations about even doing this, but that injury had subsided to the point where we went ahead. Thrashing about uncontrollably was not something Iíd do, but I tested my bonds well. I pulled on my sleeves and got nowhere. I pulled against the leg sack more vigorously and got nowhere. Neither did pulling against the strap holding the foot end on the leg sack yield. The straps on my torso, thighs, and shins held totally fast. I could feel a strap connected to the ring on the top of my hood. I had on, but could not feel, tethers to the D-rings on the jacket Ė the other straps and belts didnít allow me the slack necessary to pull against those particular tethers. (See Photo 1)|
|I knew that I was helpless and that no amount of struggle could change my situation. So I took a nap. Chris took a nap, too, I guess, because I didnít hear him moving around when I awoke. Whenever Chris would go to sleep my anxiety would increase. What would happen, Iíd ask myself, if Chris didnít wake up, what if he died in his sleep? Now, heís young and perfectly healthy and the odds are that he will wake up, heís been waking up consistently for 28 years, but what if he doesnít? His people knew he was here, and my friends would miss me after a while, but Iíd be stuck and helpless without him. I might not starve to death, and was expecting a delivery from the package service in a few days so I could yell for help. My neighbors might, or might not, hear my calls for help as I live in a rural area. Were Chris to die in his sleep I would have a problem. This anxiety occurred every morning, and whether it was a rational fear or not I can not say.|
I have worn diapers, on and off, for years and generally have no trouble using them. Lying there in the leg sack, however, I could not relieve myself, even though it felt like my bladder was going to burst. I think this was due to the pressure the sack and the thick diapers put on my urethra. The novelty of the situation played a part, also, preventing me from relaxing. After some hours I asked Chris to please remove the leg sack, which he did, placing my ankles in locking hobbles. During that transition he took care to apply the hobbles while the leg sack was still on, and to tether the hobbles to the bed before he removed the leg sack. The straps on the bed helped, too. Resistance would have been futile, I felt, but I had to test Chris anyhow.
|During this time I felt disconnected some how, as if this wasnít real, or maybe it was that the reality hadnít settled in and I was feeling a bit overwhelmed. I could not see and could barely move: my ties to reality were limited, the primary senses of vision and touch having been removed. My mind ran along at a tolerable pace. I thought about my situation, tested my bonds, and reviewed the fantasies that got me here. After some hours I believe he got me up for dinner, and when he put me back to bed it was with a strap over my chest and one over my shins (See Photo 4). In the diary Chris kept he marked it as 10:45 PM when he took he hood off and left me for the night. We had set up a web or surveillance camera which he could watch while he played his Ďputer games so he felt comfortable leaving me in that condition. I slept fitfully, waking several times during the night, but having nowhere to go and nothing to do Iíd get back to sleep after a bit. That was the only practical thing to do.|
The next morning I could see some vague light through the eye patches and played with figuring out what time it was. (In the diary we allowed a place where the actual time and my perception of the time could be noted, and my guesses were remarkably accurate, but at this moment I had no idea that they would be.) My back was in pain, from lying on the straps all night, I assumed. I was prevented from rolling on my side by the bed strap over my chest and couldnít move off the jacket straps. I wanted some relief, and only Chris could help.
I wanted to wake him, but wasnít sure if
that was the best thing to do. I thought it might be inappropriate
in my position. We donít have a dom/sub relationship, mind you, but that
thought bounced around in my head. Finally I needed relief from my dead-Chris
anxiety and called up to him. He came down a bit grumpy, checked on me and gave
me a sit of water through a straw, then went to start his day. Eventually he
got me up out of bed, marched me to a chair in the kitchen, sat me there and
bound me to it. My cuffs were drawn back and up, leaving only my toes touching
the floor. A strap or so on my waist kept me in the chair. He placed my coffee
in a cup with a straw for me and fed me bites of a pastry. I was left to finish
my coffee while he went about his business. I always enjoy my morning coffee
and this was no different. I had to carefully hunt around to find the straw,
taking care not to tip over the hot coffee on my bare legs. It tasted good. (See
Between sips I tested the bonds on the
chair and even tried to get up, but could not. I might have been able to tip
the chair over, perhaps injuring myself, but I wasnít getting out of it. Nor
could I resist Chris or kick him, or prevent him from adding to my bonds. I was
under his control, and helpless about it. I felt that this was OK, and accepted
it, it was no big deal. This was only the start of my first full day in bondage
and it was still a novelty. If I have to describe my mental state at this point
it would be, so, here I am, letís see whatís next. Already my reality had
become more inward.
|I forgot to mention that the strap around my upper arms was tightened securely before Chris got me out of bed. Max makes the Psycho with two loops on each upper sleeve so that a strap can be threaded through them and fastened around the chest, binding the upper arms to the torso. We used that strap differently, looping it around each bicep then fastening it in back, binding the upper arms together behind my back. The loops on the sleeves together with the loops under my arms and a loop behind my back provided great extra security. In this position I could not move my arms away from the sides of my body, so that even without the crotch straps it was impossible to work the jacket up and over my head. This feature or tactic was used for the first diaper change.|
For this first re-diapering
Chris removed the two crotch straps. He later found that removing them
was un-necessary and that I could be diapered with them loosely fastened, so
he left them that way, along with the strap on my biceps. Those straps
were loose, but they were secure and could not be loosened further by me.
He assured me of this, and I had no reason to doubt him. After I was
diapered and the crotch straps replaced Chris fastened me in the bed and
left me there.
At some point we arrived at
a ďdefaultĒ bed position, and perhaps it was here. Nevertheless I will
describe it here. After
the first night and the pain in my back I was to
be allowed some movement in bed so that I could lie on my side. To that end
the chest strap was left off and a strap added over my thighs. My cuffs
were locked to the foot of the bed and a tether fastened to my collar (see
Photo 10). I could sit up, but only a bit, until my leash stopped me
short. I could move my feet, but only so much, and I could roll from
side to side. The strap across my thighs kept me securely in bed. This
is the position I would sleep in and be kept in almost all the time I spent
lying in bed. Iíd stay that way until lunch. With only limited
movement I was helpless to resist when Chris wanted to change or adjust my
bonds. He added straps across my lap, chest, and shins at will, and I
could not resist. He could remove all slack form my bonds by tightening
the tether on my cuffs, and he would clip the D-rings on the jacket to tethers
on the bed. Our strategy was working well. I was helpless and
would stay that way, even under changing conditions.
Laying there my mind would
wander and I would re-live the old fantasy of being kept in a straitjacket,
or think about bondage in general, or think about my specific condition.
I tested my bonds from time to time, and I analyzed them, thinking through
each one and thinking about how I might defeat them, any of them. I
had to conclude, time and again, that I could not. I had to admit that
there was nothing I could do to prevent Chris from adding further restraints
or tightening those I already wore. I made a big deal of it during the
planning phase that if Chris failed then that would make him a huge idiot,
and kept reminding him of the great advantage he was going to start with.
Chris, Iíd say, if I can get control back from you, you deserve to lose the
game, you deserve to lose your bonus, and youíre an incompetent, besides!
Me and my big mouth, he was being careful. For now, anyhow, but I was
waiting for him to slip up.
After lunch I sat on the
toilet again, couldnít defecate, was re-diapered and put in bed until dinner
time. I guess I took a nap, and perhaps Chris did, too. Anyhow,
it had only been 24 hours in helpless bondage at this point, and I was aware
that I had another 72 to go. The reality of my situation was being
impressed upon me, yet I was OK with that. The diary entry reads that
Iím getting more used to the SJ now. As it turned out the pain in my
back was from the strap across my chest that first night, rather than from
the buckles. Even the slight pressure it exerted on my chest was
enough, after 6 hours, to cause pain. Although I could vaguely feel
the buckles in my back they didnít cause me any discomfort.
Not much happened to me
during these four days. My options were few and our planning was
thorough. We had a clear strategy, tactics appropriate to that
strategy, and plans in place to realize those tactics. Chris could be
totally effective and controlling with a minimum of fuss. For his part
he passed the time in the living room playing computer games Ė primarily
World of War craft, but also Everquest. Heís obsesses with
his games, as I am with bondage. I wished that he would play with me and my
bonds, I would have found that entertaining. I was in no position to demand
that he do, so I mostly stayed tied down to something, secure and out of his
hair. I was able to accept this. People in my position must do that.
I canít recall what was for
dinner. After dinner Chris sat me on the toilet, diapered me, put me
to bed and left there for the night. This ended my first full day of
helpless bondage. I got some sleep. It was not a good sleep and I was
not comfortable, of course. I usually sleep on my side and was able to
do that a bit, but was unable to draw my legs up at all. My arms were
loose and I could move them around within the confines of the strap on my
chest. They were loose enough that when lying on my back I could about
rest my elbows on the bed. This took pressure off the elbows from the
sleeves of the jacket. When lying on my side I found one position
where an elbow rested on the bed, and the other arm rested against the
jacket and my chest. So long as I didnít move or strain against the
jacket I was comfortable. As it turns out, itís only bondage if you
canít move: somehow not moving by choice relieves the bondage. I was
adjusting more to my situation, learning as I went along.
The next morning I again
suffered from dead-Chris-anxiety. I called to him to wake him and he
came down grumpy. At least I wasnít in pain this morning, but I
questioned the wisdom of getting myself into this. It was the same
routine with breakfast, toilet time, and back to bed. I had time to
think about bondage that morning and gave a lecture/class to Chris, poor
soul. He had been good to me, checking on me often and providing sips
of water or juice. I didnít test him much this day, although I might
have. This was Sunday, the day I normally talk to my friends and
sister, and the day I usually watch my news program, 60 Minutes. I
wanted to make a bargain with Chris to let me watch it, which would mean
getting me into the living room and taking off my eye patches. So I
|After lunch I asked him to please let me do that, so we made a bargain. He would let me watch my news program, but I would be strapped to the chair, which would be secured to the chain on the floor. I would have to wear an inflatable gag, along with a remote-control training collar meant for a dog. Only then would he let me watch my show. I agreed, for a number of reasons.|
|He strapped me down to the bed very tightly as he put on the collar and gag (See Photo 8; compare the position of the thigh belt strap to Photo 5). I know he had the chair waiting for me, and think that perhaps he did this before gagging me. I do remember, vividly, the strong feeling I had when being marched to the living room: it was one of utter helplessness. I still could not see as he hadnít yet removed my eye patches, and I was gagged to where any ďspeechĒ was unintelligible even to me. In addition I had an electric collar on to which Chris held the control. I do not like that device, not one bit, it intimidates me. My ankles were hobbled and Chris held the control strap. I have been in bondage before, as you know, but have never felt so helpless or powerless. I have no words to adequately describe that feeling of helplessness. I said to myself, youíre fucked! Two full days, and a couple of hours, had elapsed since we started so itís fair to assume that there were some accumulative effects working here, on top of the reality of my situation. I knew that in a few minutes the eye patches would be removed and knew the other bonds were only temporary, yet I felt strongly powerless, deeply helpless. Even sitting here weeks later writing this I recall the intensity of that feeling of helplessness.|
I was locked in the
chair and the eye patches removed. I got to watch my show, and nobody
called, I donít think. Afterwards Chris replaced the eye patches with
new ones and I was put to bed for the night. The diary notes
that I felt safe once I got back into bed and the electric collar was
removed. I can understand that feeling: Chris enjoyed having me in the
training collar, he knew it intimidates me. He delighted in teasing me
and gave me small shocks a few times. By this time I had spent two
days primarily in that bed and was accustomed to it. I knew my bonds
and had adjusted to them somewhat. Also, the break was nice, watching
TV and all. All that excitement and I was now content ready for bed.
There are no notes in the
diary from the next morning but I remember the pain in my shoulders from the
straitjacket. I debated whether to ask Chris to change me into a Posey
straitjacket. I even devised a bondage scheme where heíd use a steel
support pole in the basement as a static position while he changed me out of
one jacket and into the other. I told him about my pain and suggested
that he might change my straitjacket. He didnít think this was a good
option. He loosened the topmost strap on the jacket instead.
|It had been three days now and I was still unable to defecate. I had spent almost all of this time lying on my back. If I could move around some I might be able to shake things loose, so to speak. Chris took me to the basement and locked me to the steel pole using HR tether straps on the D-rings of the jacket, and locking my cuff strap behind the pole (See Photo 13). I was happy to be there, and moved around as much as I could for an hour or so. At some point, I believe it was here, Chris tightened the strap around my biceps to where it was comfortable yet snug, even very snug. My arms were held tightly against my chest, and driven deep enough into the strap in from of the jacket so that they were rather wedged into it. I was surprised to find that this was not a painful position. I ascribe that painlessness to having a proper fitting jacket. I mentioned this to Chris and he made a point of fastening the jacket this way when I was not lying down.|
That day Chris found a
position where I sat on the foot end of the bed with my cuffs secured snugly
to a ring in the floor. I could sit here and be fed lunch, he wouldnít
have to get me out of bed, just slide me down some. He fastened a bed
strap across my lap and added an additional leash which was fastened to my
collar. After lunch I asked to be left like that, the better to move
around some. In this position I could stay sitting up or could lie my
upper body back down, with my feet secured to the floor: I had no more than
two or three inches of slack or movement at my ankles. The sleeves of
the straitjacket were made snug by tightening the bicep strap even before
Chris sat me up.
I tried to stand up from
that position but could not. The strap across my lap prevented me from
doing that, as well as the leash on my collar. Too, it was impossible
to get my weight over my feet Ė I could neither slide nor move over them due
to the leash and lap belt, nor could I draw them under me due to the cuffs
and the bed I was sitting on. When I would try standing I was brought
up short, with a firm tug on my collar. My ankles were secured closely
to an immovable ring in the floor; unlike being on the bed where the
mattresses provided some feeling of give, this was immobile and felt much
It was probably due to an
accumulation of experiences, but at this moment while failing to stand, even
when it seemed so reasonable that I might, I felt a deep sense of surrender.
This was a palpable sense of resignation. It was not unpleasant. It
merely felt as if the wind had gone out of my will. I had felt some of
that at breakfast that day, and the previous night when being marched into
the living room wearing a gag and electric collar I had felt intimidated and
overwhelmed. This afternoon, bound to the end of the bed, I just
When Chris came back into
the room I told him about this experience. I told him that I even
liked it somehow. I will quote from the diary Chris kept, ďsubject was at
edge of bed with long leash on collar and strap over thighs. Stayed in
position for an hour and a half. Subject felt very resigned, loosening
at shoulder strap and tightening at arms strap has had a big impact on how
I had known since the first
day that I was helpless. I had tested my bonds on numerous occasions
and I had thought through my condition often. I knew enough about
bondage and the equipment I was wearing to be absolutely convinced that I
was helpless. However, knowing in the intellect and KNOWING are two
different things. Sitting on the end of my bed I had LEARNED that I
was helpless. After this I became even more compliant, as least for
the remainder of the day. That night, after it was dark, Chris brought
me outside, tethering my collar to a tie-out screwed into the ground.
|I had wanted to try using the cuffs as hogties but was unable to do that inside with the limited space. Chris put down a blanket, and I lay upon it while he took the straps on each cuff and secured them to my thighs. Even though I wasnít bound to anything immovable, but only tethered by a cable, this qualified as a static position: I was bound to myself. I could roll around some, or slither a bit, but I could not get up. The cable tether kept me from going too far, so I kept to the blanket. ( See Photos 12 and 14)|
It occurred to me later that
I might have used this opportunity to try to regain some control by scraping
off my eye patches, but at the time it didnít occur to me - I had no desire
to. After a while Chris removed the hogtie, and after making sure that
my ankles were bound together he helped me up to walk around some. My
collar was still tethered to the stake in the ground, but I could walk
perhaps 10 feet in each direction. This was a very weird experience.
True, it was dark, but perhaps I was illuminated from the lights form the
house! Could my neighbors see me? Could
they hear me? What if a friend stopped by? I had no vision, remember, and was
helpless in my straitjacket and cuffs. I was thickly diapered, and left
tethered in my back yard. My mind raced. I didnít know what to do or even
think. ( See Photo 15)
I walked back and forth
some, for lack of something else or better to do. I tested the limits of
my tether and tried to visualize exactly where in my yard I was. I should
have known, having lived here for ten years and having placed the stake in the ground myself, yet I was
disoriented. I tried to anticipate when my tether would bring me up short, so I
could avoid that. The snap on the end of the cable made a noise when it became
taut against my collar and in my state I was afraid my neighbors might hear
that. I was frightened of being found out, for one. Even as I was in a high
state of helplessness, and I was wearing a straitjacket, unable to see, and had
cuffs locked on my ankles, I was aware only of my disorientation, feeling both
helpless and lost. I stayed out here ninety minutes before being brought back.
I was happy to get back in bed.
The morning of the last day
had me calling to Chris to wake him again. I felt that I had made it
through, even though it wouldnít be until 3:15PM when I was released.
The previous day had been memorable for the degree of resignation I felt as
well as for how I reacted to that surrender. I guess, looking back,
that itís not surrender unless you accept it, or surrender to it!
Seems trite now, but it wasnít at the time.
I decided that I would be
feistier today. I had been mostly cooperative to this point, and while
Chris hadnít slipped up so that I might escape, perhaps I could have made it
more difficult on him Ė he once left a non-locking buckle where I could
reach it. If I could make him fight me, rather than having him control
my though my bonds, I wouldnít have to pay him a bonus! Too, I felt
that he had spent more of his attentions on playing his Ďputer game than on
me and I was a bit jealous. I would have gotten up and pulled his
plug, butÖ. I had coached him some, too, offering input or
opinion. Chris is not, yet, a bondage fanatic, and even if he were,
would have to go some to be as fanatical or obsessed as I. He spent
his free time around his computers, whereas I spent all of my time in
bondage, without much else to think about. For whatever reason he seemed to
listen to me, so I made a point of telling his this morning that I was going
to test him.
|I donít recall many details from this day. I guess he got me out of bed for breakfast or maybe he fed me sitting on the edge of the bed again, I vaguely remember. I know I had to have sat on the toilet again, and been diapered for the day. I recall talking about whether to use a stuffer or not and I asked that he use one. At some point I was fed lunch then put back in bed to lie down. I think that this lunch was served with me sitting in bed, rather than getting me out of bed and into the chair. Perhaps I took a nap after lunch. Or not, I canít recall. (See Photos 18 and 19)|
|I wanted to get some video of me at the end of the experience, sort of an interview thing. I thought about where it would be best to do the recording, weighing things like lighting and camera positions, and suggested to Chris that we film it with me sitting up in the bed, the camera at the foot of the bed. The afternoon light is good in that room and the additional overhead light would be all that was needed. It was up to Chris to restrain me so that I might be interviewed.|
I ended up leaning against
the wall at the head of the bed with a bed strap across my lap, my ankles
hogtied to the D-rings on the waist of the jacket, and those same rings tied
securely to the bed. I could move, perhaps, three or four inches in
any direction. Chris was very efficient and effective in moving me.
The position I ended up in was not one I had imagined and I had no idea what
he was doing even as he was doing it to me. Once again I was stuck.
There was perhaps an hour and a half left in the experience by this time and
in this position I gave a short recap or interview of the experience.
For this last time in the
straitjacket Chris tightened the arm straps so that I was in the immobile
position again. It needs mentioning that I sweated in the jacket and
that it got a bit stiff from wear. I was still without vision, of
course, and unable to see my arms. It felt, surprisingly, as if my
arms had disappeared! I knew I had/have arms, but it felt as if I
hadnít. I could establish the connection with my arms by moving them,
but without that I was left with a strange sensation that they had
disappeared into my trunk.
Soon enough it was time to
be freed. The jacket came off, then the cuffs. I removed the eye
patches myself. I had to get Chris back home so he could go to dinner
to celebrate his birthday, so I took a quick shower and we got on the road.
I felt very weird. Around the second day I noticed that my mental
activity slowed down, and I was spending less time thinking of anything at
all. In a way I was relaxing or finding this experience to be
relaxing. When the bonds and eye patches came off I was left with a
sense of bliss.
I canít describe it
otherwise, it was simply bliss, and it lasted the rest of the day. My
vision, appropriately, was a bit blurry, but I could see well enough to
drive on the highway. I was relaxed and happy, I was blissful. I
have never been blissful, not like this, and not for so long. I canít
attribute this feeling to anything in particular, but ascribe it to the sum
of the experience.
|I was none the worse for wear physically. My body was in good shape, with no injury, not even with any pain. I had no diaper rash. There was no pain from the constipation. Other than some discoloration and faint skin abrasions from testing and pulling against the eye patches, there were really no ill after effects from the experience. I had feared having cramps in my hands, wrists, and elbows, but after mere minutes any of those reactions were gone.|