My wife has never really shared my enthusiasm for me trussing myself up in ladies hosiery. In fact she really doesn’t approve at all, and has told me so on a number of occasions when desperation has driven me to try to enlist her help. Consequently I tend to fly solo, and this usually means I take advantage of the rare occasions when I’m alone at home to indulge my fantasies. I need to be careful to conceal the evidence – she has warned me that if she catches me I can expect to spend a lot longer than I reckoned tied up. On the face of it, this sounds good, but I know she means she will head off to her mother’s or a friend’s at least overnight.

It’s never quite the same when you do this kind of thing alone, because it lacks the final loss of control I crave. However, it still feels pretty good, and I have developed a fairly slick, if elaborate, routine. This involves head to toe encasement in as much nylon as I can handle, usually blindfolding and gagging myself with spare pairs, then restraining myself as far as I can safely manage, resisting the temptation to go that little bit too far.

I take my opportunities when I can get them. On this occasion my wife was working late, and I had arranged a day off work and neglected to tell her. “You won’t be back at lunchtime today, will you?” she had asked at breakfast.

“Uh-uh,” I lied. “Why do you ask?”

“No matter – it’s nothing. I wanted to arrange for the estate agent to come round and take a few pictures, but it’ll just need to be some other time.”

We were planning to move house, and our own house was just about to go on the market.

I had breakfast, waited patiently for her to leave, earlier than me as usual, and then got busy. I enjoy the getting ready almost as much as the final result, and I had things worked out pretty well. Planning to truss myself up on the floor of our bedroom, I got dressed in my first layer of black nylon, head to toe. Maternity tights are good for this as they have extra length in the body, which helps to give a good feeling of enclosure. I fixed a pair up with a pair of detachable bra straps, which means I can hike them well up but still be comfortable. My usual technique for the top half is to put an arm in one leg, my head in the other as far as it will go, and then make a hole in the side of the panty to put my other arm through. Do this for each side and you are completely covered.

After this I did a second layer on my bottom half, but not before putting on a panty girdle to tuck my little thing into. Not only does this give a better line to your underwear, it helps prevent any premature “accidents”. I used a pair of small nylon dog collars on my ankles. I padlocked the collars in place and then locked them together, attaching a short length of chain to them which I planned to use to hogtie myself. Another couple of collars went round my wrists, similarly fastened, although I left locking them together till last.

I used another pair of tights to gag myself, stuffing the panty in my mouth (as far as I could with my head already covered in nylon) and tied it in place using the legs, also wrapping them over my eyes to blindfold myself. Pretty much ready for the moment of no return, all I need to do is lock my wrists together behind my back. That done, I struggle to get the length of chain hooked up to another padlock attached to the d-rings on the collars around my wrists. It takes forever to hook everything together, I’ve got myself into a gentle hogtie with the padlock hooked through the chain, but I can’t get the padlock shut. I’m tired now, and could use a rest, so I decide to call it a draw with the lock for now and try again later.

I’ve kept all my keys together in a single bunch just within reach till I’m secure, and now throw them just far enough away to make it a challenge to find them.

Tired, helpless and happy, I doze off listening to the muffled sound of traffic outside my window. I wake up suddenly to the sound of someone knocking at the front door. I tense up a little, then relax, thinking it’s probably the postman, and he’ll leave in a moment. Whoever it is, they knock a couple more times. Kind of persistent. Then I hear the sound of a key opening the door. Damn it, what is my wife doing home now? I’m in big trouble. But I hear a voice calling out, and it’s not my wife’s.

“Hello – is anyone home?”

It’s a woman’s voice, and now I’m panicking, frozen in silence as I hear this stranger beginning to move round the house.

“Hi - I’m from the estate agents” She calls out. This doesn’t reassure me and now I’m trying to find my keys as quietly as possible, and not succeeding.

Now I can hear her looking around the house, and I know it’s only a matter of time before she finds me. I’m struggling to release myself, but I’ve done a good job and I’m afraid to make too much noise. Too late. The door opens and she walks in. I lie completely still. This is horribly embarrassing.

“Oh my goodness”.

Indeed.

“Mr Johnson?”

I nod.

“What’s going on?”

Difficult to explain, gagged as I am. I make a couple of muffled sounds.

“Can you speak?”

I shake my head.

There is a pause of a minute or so. I can’t tell what she is doing and she makes no sound.

“Did your wife leave you like this?”

For a second I wonder if nodding might be the smart move, but decide against it in case she calls my wife.

I shake my head.

“You did this yourself?

I nod again.

“I see”.

Again a long pause.

“Bizarre” she mutters.

I can’t see a thing but from the sound of her voice I think she may be late thirties, early forties.

“Well what will we do now? I’ve come to photograph the house for your ads. Your wife gave me a key. She said there would be no-one home. But here you are.”

Now I can hear her moving quite close to me. Seems like she is having a good look, assessing the situation.

“Ingenious. It must have taken you a while to do this.”

Not too sure how to respond from my limited repertoire.

“Oh, I see there is one lock unfastened. Did you forget that one?” A note of mocking sarcasm?

“You see, what I’m thinking is that I need to ask you a few questions about the house, so we need to get you sorted out first, OK? I know this is a bit embarrassing for you. I’m a grown up though. Don’t worry about it too much. I only want to do my job. Would you like me to let you go?

I nod.

“How do I do that?”

I gesture as best I can in the direction I threw the keys. She steps over me and I hear the rustle of her tights, catch a whiff of her perfume. Despite everything, I feel my little thing stirring deep in its nylon and lycra prison.

“Ok – I suppose I need these”. I heard her pick up the keys.

“Turn over on your front”.

I do as she asks. She is trying to take the padlock out of the chain which has me hogtied.

“Hang on, this is kind of stuck. Can you get your feet and hands closer to take the tension off?”

I bend as much as I can, and she is pulling my feet up with the chain.

Didn’t think this would be so difficult.

“Almost there I think. Yep, got it now.”

I hear the snick of the lock closing.

“There you go. That’s you all done now. Much better”.

What the hell has she done? I struggle in my now very tight hogtie, but my comments go unheard.

“Did you think I was going to let you go? Can’t have you running about the house half naked in your pervy outfit with me here. Don’t think I would like that at all. Anyway, isn’t this the kind of thing you like?”

She had me dead to rights there. My willie was now rigidly pointing back between my legs. I wondered for a second if she could see the tiny bump this would make in my clothes.

“Tell you what, you just have a wee wriggle here just now while I take some pictures of the house. I’ll be back in a while and we can think about what to do next. Oh, almost forgot my keys.”

I hear the sound of “her keys” being dropped into her handbag, and the handbag being zipped shut. For some reason, along with the fact that her voice is very like that of a well-known daytime TV presenter, I find this very stimulating. My panic has passed, but I am now very tightly and uncomfortably restrained and a strange woman has the only means of release, and no motive to use it. May as well enjoy the moment.

She takes what seems like forever to take her photographs. I can hear the radio playing in the kitchen, and now the sound of the kettle boiling and the smell of coffee.

As time passes my excitement fades and my pain increases as my shoulders and thighs feel the strain, even though I've moved over on my side to relieve the strain.

“Hiya – still here?” She laughs now, and I can hear her sit down in an armchair. Sounds like she is sorting out papers. I can smell coffee, perfume, and now she is lighting a cigarette.

“Listen - I need to ask you some questions, so I’m going to need to speak to you – the gag will need to go, I’m afraid.”

She removes the tights from my eyes and mouth, and for the first time I can see her a little through my remaining layers. She is, as far as I can tell, late thirties, quite pretty, with a good figure, smartly dressed in a dark business suit and a white blouse. She has taken her jacket off and it lies on the arm of her chair. Her hair is cut in a neat long bob, and she is fully made up, as one would expect of an estate agent. She is wearing sheer light coloured tights, and a pair of very smart slingback shoes. Settling back in the chair with her cigarette, she crosses her legs and lets one shoe dangle on her toes.

“Just be a minute.” She is sifting through a folder of documents.

I can’t help but look at her legs, only a couple of feet away from my position on the floor.

“Are you looking up my skirt?”

“No, no – not at all, I’m just…” I reply thickly.

“Hmm – this isn’t going to work, is it? I’ll need to think of something else.”

Now she is stuffing the tights back in mouth.

“Back on your front - open up properly.”

She ties the tights back around my eyes and mouth, much tighter than I had myself. I can’t see a thing, and can’t possibly force out the gag.

“Look, I don’t want any of your nonsense. I have a deal for you. All I want is for you to nod yes to some questions and I’ll let you have your keys back before I go. How does that sound? OK? Let’s get on with it.”

Over the next 15 minutes I agree to buy every optional extra the agency had on offer.

“Thanks. We are just about done, and thanks for generating a healthy commission for me. Maybe I should do this with all my customers.”

Ha ha. I’d cancel it all as soon as she let me go.

“Just in case you are thinking about cancelling, I’m going to take some photos of you now as an insurance policy. Your option to cancel expires in three days, and I’ll delete these in four so long as you don’t cancel. Otherwise who knows here they might end up? With your wife? Your boss? On the Net? But that won’t happen so long as we keep to our agreement.”

Now I just wanted her to set me free and go. I was sore and tired, and trying to think how I would explain the cost to my wife.

“Back in minute. I saw a picture of you and your wife in the sitting room. I need to put that in the picture with you so we know who it is. Can’t really see your face at the moment”.

A few minutes later she was done.

“Almost ready to give you your keys - I’d like to ask one last favour though. Would you mind if I took a pair of your new tights? Couldn’t help but notice that you have very good taste in hosiery.”

I had a bag on the floor next to me with some packs of new tights; she was raking about in it now.

“Levante 10 denier sheer to waist in black. These look nice. Lovely. Much nicer than my M&S ones. I’ll just get changed here.”

I heard her take off her skirt. She discarded her old tights which landed on the floor by my face.

“Goodness, these are lovely. Need to be careful. Just as well I shaved my legs this morning.”

I heard the soft rustle of her legs as she dressed again and moved around the room. I felt myself stiffen again, despite my discomfort.

“One last thing – almost forgot. I need to take pictures of this room, without you in them if you know what I mean. Just a minute.”

Now she was poking around the room, opening and closing wardrobe and cupboard doors.

“Here we go, this will do nicely I think. Just need to take some stuff out.”

I heard here rummaging about in the built in cupboard which my wife uses as a wardrobe. It’s about two and a bit feet deep and tall enough to hang clothes up in. The bottom my wife used to keep her many pairs of shoes and boots, some packaged up in boxes. These were being moved now, as far as I could tell.

After a couple of minutes;

“OK, what I want you to do is to wriggle in here for me, just for a minute or so, so that I can get my photos taken. Then we are all done and you can have your keys.”

I hesitated.

“Listen, I’m in a hurry now. Do you want the keys or not?”

In a bit of discomfort now, I inched my way across the floor under her direction, so that eventually my head was wedged up into the back corner of the cupboard. I couldn’t get my legs in, the doorway was too narrow, so she roughly bundled me in. Once I was in, there was just enough room for me to stretch out in my hogtie.

“Squeeze up to the back now, so I can get the door shut.”

I wriggled up to the back wall. Once I had done so she started packing the shoes and boxes back in around me.

“Can’t have these in the pictures. People don’t like to see personal effects.”

She packed the boxes in on my back, under my arms and legs, further restricting my already limited movement. Then she stacked the remainder of the shoes in front of me.

“There you go. With your wife’s coats and dresses hanging down, no-one would never guess you were there. I’ll just be a minute now”

The door closed with a quiet click. Being an old cupboard, it has a proper handle inside and out, a rounded one, and a lock. There was no way I could reach the handle from my position though. Even if I could have moved, there was no way I could reach it whilst tied up, and with the boxes packed around me I could hardly move at all. I couldn’t even reach the door to push it. The door opened again almost immediately.

“Need to put all your rubbish away too.”

She packed all my bags of toys and underwear in around my head. Now her voice and every move were muffled.

The door closed again, this time for a long time, maybe 15 minutes, time enough to reflect on my situation. If she didn’t come back, I was stuck, unable to reach the door to open it or even make enough noise to attract attention. Eventually the door opened and she took a bag away from my head.

“Sorry about that, I had to make a phone call to my sister. Anyway, that’s me all done, so thanks for your help. Oh, almost forgot your keys. And you can have these old tights of mine. I only put them on this morning.”

She then pulled the panty of the tights over my head, and wrapped the legs tightly, once again, round my head, over my mouth and eyes, forcing my gag even deeper. She tied them off in front of my face.

“There you are now. Didn’t I promise?”

She jingled the keys in the toe of the tights, dangling in front of my face.

“As my mother used to say, a thing’s not lost if you know where it is. Isn’t that right?”

She laughed now, packing the bags back around me.

“Got to go now, I’ve really spent too long here today. I did say I would meet your wife for a drink later to let her know how things were going, so she might be a bit later than you expected. Do you think I should tell her where you are? Anyway, it’s been good. Bye for now.”

She closed the cupboard door.