Renee and I had rented an old adobe house in the mountain foothills of Arizona. It was cooler up there, but cool is a relative thing during an Arizona summer. One thing that we loved about the place was its secluded location. It has a view of the Sonoran desert stretched out in the valley below and we could indulge in the ultimate attire for surviving the desert heat by spending much of our time au natural in the house and around the property.

But something else had caught my eye: The heavy wood posts that held up timbers which supported the high flat roof. I had spent many hours swinging in the hammock contemplating the geometry of the wooden structures and how they might be put to use restraining, or perhaps even suspending, some lovely damsel in distress. And in my daydreams, I was always that (un)fortunate lady.

Renee and I had been friends for several years. We met skiing and had shared numerous adventures: rock climbing, rafting, a love for live music. Being of such kindred spirit, we were also fond of occasionally treating our boyfriends to a threesome, and while we did pleasure each other a bit in the heat of the moment, we were really into the guys.

It was during such a romp that Renee's beau and I were holding her down playfully and teasing her. She seemed to be getting off on it so much that he had me fetch some cord. We bound her to the bed and took turns harassing her, then left her bound and squirming as she watched us play with each other. It was a hot summer night!

The next day, she and I were speaking of the evening's events and she voiced how she had surprised herself at her response to being tied. I wasn't convinced that it was such a surprise, based on her response and my own repressed fantasies, and told her so. Again we were of like mind.

This led to us experimenting and working up scenarios where we could apply our newfound activity. We thought about tying one of us up and being presented to a boyfriend. And so we did. It was great fun and very erotic as well. Over the following months we continued to explore these new adventures, but my innermost mind yearned to go much farther.

When Renee mentioned that she would be gone for 2 days, days when I had nothing in particular planned, my ideas started taking on a new form. Returning to my deeper fantasies, I started thinking about how I could create a predicament for myself using the big timbers and a workable plan started to come together. Being handy with rope and rigging from climbing and rafting helped me visualize a scenario.

I bid Renee adieu, reminding her to lock the gate at the end of our dirt road, and wasted no time in starting to set up my idea for a time release predicament. I wanted it to be secure, to be really stuck, until the time was up, and then still have to work for a while getting out. I could feel my puss becoming creamy with anticipation as I set about setting up my predicament.

There were several structural wooden posts around a sort of great room and one pair was close to a wall where an old candelabra hoist was mounted. The posts supported a cross beam about 10 feet off the floor. The cross beam had a heavy metal ring attached to the bottom, which was used to guide a metal cable from the hoist to where the heavy iron candelabra was hanging part way across the room.

I lowered the candelabra to a table and unhooked the cable. I then rewound the cable back until it was hanging through the metal ring on the bottom of the cross beam. Holding onto the hook, I tested that I could reach up and operate the crank of the hoist with my foot. I found myself trembling with a mix of anticipation and trepidation as the ramifications of the success of my first step sunk in.

I then brought in a wood and metal bar that I had found out by the old barn. It looked like it may have been part of a harness for connecting a horse to a cart. It was a little over 3 feet long with heavy rings attached along the bottom side - one on each end and one in the middle - and another heavier one on top, which I attached to the hook at the end of the candleabra cable. It hung just above head level for now and appeared more than sturdy enough for my purposes.

It was a warm afternoon and the air was humid, as late summer is during the monsoon season in Arizona. A light breeze wafted through the open windows, but at this time of day it provided little cooling, instead it wrapped itself around one's body in a warm embrace. With the exertion of setting the rigging up, and my general excitement, my skin was moist and I detected the musky aroma of my freshly rinsed body and my increasing arousal. I was wearing only a very light and loose cotton sun dress that allowed for plenty of air flow. and my black hair was pulled back into a ponytail. Still, I felt a trickle of moisture working its way down between my breasts.

Up until now, Renee and I had played mostly with ropes, but during an exploratory visit to a very interesting shop during a work trip to the coast, I impulsively decided to pick up a couple of intriguing things. These included some leather wrist and ankle cuffs and an ornamented hood. So I brought these out and laid them next to the other pieces I would need to assemble my entrapment.

Looking at the hardware, I wondered if I was really ready for this, but knew I had time to decide as I worked on getting the rigging set up. Still, just playing with such an audacious idea had me all worked up. And the afternoon heat and humidity continued to rise, soaking into my being.

I dove enthusiastically into setting up my rigging, which involved attaching chains to the hanging bar for attaching my wrists and hood to the apparatus. I then rigged up a rope arrangement to secure my legs which I could tighten using my restrained hands, but not loosen until I escaped from the contraption. And if this all worked as I envisioned, escape would not be possible until a bunch of ice cubes melted. The ice cubes were in mesh bags attached to the end of the ropes and which would secure their ends of the ropes until the ice melted and allowed release.

The details of the rigging went like this: Since the key to escaping my predicament was to be able to reach up with a foot and operate the crank for the candelabra cable, the rigging was supposed to keep my feet such that I could not reach the crank until the ice melted. So, I had wrapped some webbing around each post about 4 feet off the floor. On each side 2 small metal rings were attached to the webbing with a carabiner. One end of each rope (one for each leg) was tied off to a mesh bag with ice cubes inside. This ropes then ran through one of the rings on its post so that, when its ice bag came to the ring, it stopped and wouldn't pull through until the ice melted. The ropes then ran in to where I would pass them through carabiners attached to each ankle's cuff and then back through the other metal ring on each post. From there they ran up to rope ratchets attached to the rings on the cross bar that the short chains to my wrist cuffs would be attached to. The ropes then hung down to within reach of where my hands would be once I was all clipped in. Once suspended, my hands would be too far away from the ratchets to release them. Of course, the way my wrists would be positioned in the suspension cuffs wouldn't allow access to any of this anyway, as long as my wieght was on the rigging. (Hope that is understandable)

I walked over to the hoist and cranked the bar up a couple of feet.

All of this rigging took me almost 2 hours, by the time it was all adjusted. My arousal had been simmering all the while and now, as I stood back and looked at my creation without the distraction of rigging, it really started to boil. My heart beat seemed strong and fast - I took a deep breath to settle it - and the fragrance of the hot desert wafted in through the windows and mixed with wafts of the increasingly potent aroma of my own excitment. The moment of commitment to my ordeal was emminent.

To help me keep going, I imagined a fantasy where I had been kidnapped, forced into this and was to be entertainment for a group of people. I closed and locked the house doors, ceremoniously removed my dress, placed it on a chair and moved toward my fate. (To form the picture: I am 5'9", olive skin - no tan lines, black hair pulled into a high ponytail, thick slightly trimmed bush, slender athletic build and B cup breasts.) As I moved naked across the room, I was keenly aware of the way my buns swayed twitchingly with my stride and how my breasts jiggling as I walked barefoot across the tile floor.

Upon reaching the site of my entrapment, I put one knee down to attach an ankle cuff and noticed how excited I had become: my inner pussy lips were swollen and pouted out, glistening with my nectar. I wouldn't usually be in such a state until after some close contact with a lover. After buckling my ankle and wrist cuffs into place, I stood and knew my excitement was given away to my audience by the way my bright shiny lips were protruding, their state highlighted by the frame of my lush dark bush. I'm pretty sure I blushed at the thought.

As I worked, the short chains attached to my wrist cuffs rattled, reminding me of my circumstances. I had placed a low box on the floor beneath the hanging bar and two slightly taller 4x4 posts on end off to each side of the box. Standing on the box, facing the hoist, I untied the ropes from where they were loosely attached to the box, one at a time, and clipped them into their respective caribiners on my ankle cuffs. The ropes could now move freely through the caribiners on the ankle cuffs, starting from the bags of ice (sitting on the floor until the slack was taken out), up to the rings on the posts, then down to my ankles, then back up to the other post rings, then on up to the ratchet.. I then had an inspiration and moved the ankle cuffs up to just below my knees, the cuffs were just barely big enough to wrap around my upper calf, from behind the knee really, when I used the last hole in the strap.

I now took some of the slack out of the ropes by pulling the rope through rope ratchets attached to the bar above, which was still within reach. I left enough slack so that I could still move my foot up to operate the crank handle of the hoist.

It was time to install the hood. I had selected an inflatable gag and installed it in the hood. I also attached the blinders, though left them hanging to the side for now. I looked at the ice filled mesh bags attached to the ends of the ropes that ran to the straps on my legs. There were already puddles forming under the bags due to the heat, which is why I had stuffed them extra full of ice.

The hood went on and I accepted the deflated gag into my mouth. I pulled the hood snugly under my chin. My hair pulled up into a high ponytail that protruded out of a hole at the top of the laces in back. The laces were gradually pulled tighter and I snugged the hood up until it conformed closely to my head. I had to breath through my nose now, as, even uninflated, the formfitting hood and gag made this my only choice. The aroma of well treated leather filled my head. Finally, I buckled the collar in back, snug but not tight.

I reached up and found the chains hanging from the center ring of the bar. These 3 chains were connected into a Y. One chain was longer than the other two and this one went up through the center ring on the bar and back down to attach to a D ring on the top of my hood. The other two ends were each attached to one end of a silver choke chain that went across the front of my collar through small but sturdy D rings just below and behind my ears.

In the heat and with the restricted breathing, I started to falter. I felt fear trying to well up and take over and I thought of the uncompromising predicament in which I was soon to find myself. But my excitement was growing and I revisited my fantasy about the observant crowd forcing me into this show. My heart beat deeply and, with a lump in my throat, I continued.

Atta girl, I said to myself. Knowing I would soon not have the option, I decided to put a clothespin on each nipple for some extra spice. I had played with them just enough to know the pattern: an initial pinch, then a grace period before the deeper ache set in. But I'd always been able to remove them when the effect became more intense.

As I attached each clip securely, sticking straight out off the end of each nipple, I let out an involuntary moan, then quickly closed and secured the blinders over my eyes. I reached down, found the end of the chain hanging from my left wrist, reached up and clipped its carabiner to its ring on the bar above .But before I did the second wrist, I reached up and gave my gag a few pumps. It filled my mouth, tightening the hood even more and causing it to press on my nose. I had not played with gags before and I had assumed that the inflateable would be more comfortable, which had seemed true when I had tested it briefly when I bought it with the hood. On impulse, I gave it one extra pump, felt my cheeks bulge out into the confinement of the hoods' leather, felt my chin pushed down into the hood's chin pocket. I left the hose and bulb dangling, then clipped my blinders into place. With some fumbling I found the end of the chain to my right wrist cuff and clipped into its' ring on the suspension bar.

The combination of sensations now was quite intense and I hadn't even really restrained myself yet. I stood for a few moments, starting my drift into a new world.

At this point, I could still easily unclip, but I went back to my scene, my captors insisting that I continue, or else. (Or else what?) I reached up and began raising the bar by operating the hoist with my foot, this took some exertion and I had to match my output to how much air I could bring in. There came a point where the chains came tight and my hands were unable to reach and unclip from the spreader bar. I was to the point where I had to stand up straight or the rig would pull on my hood. The feeling of slowly being stretched and opened up was wonderful, yet as I approached the point of no return, the adrenaline coursed through me, reminding me of the feelings I used to have as I committed my raft to run my first big rapids.

An extra deep breath and I pushed the crank another turn. The rig was now pulling gently but firmly on my head and I could feel the collar tighten slightly around my neck and also pull up. My arms were outstretched but slightly relaxed, just as I had rigged it. I put another crank in and, with the upward pressure on my hood, I instinctively pulled down with my arms and shoulders, taking some of the weight and lessening the pull on the hood. I attempted to reach the chain attachments to my wrist cuffs, but the dynamics would no longer allow my hands access to the caribiners, much less any ability to unclip the chains.

I reached with my foot one more time and added a last crank. I was now on my tippy-toes, sharing my body's weight between the hood, my arms and my toes. My posture pulled the skin a bit and I was increasingly aware of my breathing and of the clothes pins sinking deeper into my nipples. I knew I could still use my foot to reverse the crank and undo the rig, but the feeling was getting so intense as I delved deeper into my predicament.

I approached my first point of no return. I imagined how I looked to my phantom audience - stretched out, ribs rising and falling with my deep long breaths, tummy sucked in tight, my calf and thigh muscles flexed as I tried to stabilize myself as I teetered on tip toes.

I hesitated here, took time to feel my heart beating fast and strong, my breathing deep, excitement in my throat, the pit of my stomach, moist palms, my swelling puss. I knew my skin was starting to glisten with sweat and every time I shifted my legs, I could feel my slick nectar working its way onto my inner thighs.

Reinforced by revisiting my fantasy of being watched, forced to go on, my excitement mounted as my hands found the loose end of the ropes dangling from their ratchets. Inch by inch I started pulling the ropes through their ratchets, slowly shortening the slack to the straps just below my knees, then a bit more resistance as the ice bags began lifting off of the ground.. I knew that at some point I would pass the point of having enough slack to reach the crank with my foot and undo my predicament. I pressed on and suddenly I felt the ropes come tight, meaning the ice bags had come to their rings. I tried to lift my foot reach the crank, but found that I was well past that point.

I was now trapped for a time determined by the melting ice. A deep surge passed through my core as I instinctively struggled to get back out of my fix. My breathing quickened into a noisy hmmph through my nose. I felt the warmth, my whole body seemed moist and alive, especially certain parts that already wistfully begged for attention. They would have to wait. I was securely entrapped.

But I wasn't quite done complicating my predicament and, now that I was committed, moved on to complete the scenario.

Stabilizing myself by pulling with my arms, I carefully lifted my left foot, reaching out to the side where the 4x4 was placed on end. Finding the top, I stretched and placed the ball of my foot on it. I noticed right away that the narrow post was wobbly, so I was careful to remain stabilized as I lifted my right foot, kicked the box away, reached to the opposite side and rested my outstretched right foot atop the other post.

I was now standing spread eagle atop the posts, but their height was insufficient to reduce the pull of the apparatus by much on my hood and collar. The posts were wobbly and it required focus to remain balanced atop them. With the box kicked away, I knew that my feet wouldn't reach the floor if I came off the posts and I would be suspended by just my arms and the hood/collar arrangement.

This position created more slack in the ropes to my ankles. I again found the ropes hanging by my hands and pulled them through their ratchets until they came tight again. I was now unable to move my legs back under myself as the rigging held them out to the sides and up until the ice melted - I had estimated about an hour for the ice to melt.

Being held so completely spread eagled was delicious. This was the realization of my fantasy to be so uncompromisingly restrained and tormented - I felt a sensuous wave of energy pass through me and I found myself responding with low moans, almost grunts, through my gag.

I could writhe around only a little bit as I was held remarkably fixed in position. Any relaxation of my legs, my extended feet or the downward pull with my arms results in more upward pull on the hood and a tightening of the collar. I found that it was fairly easy to flex my arms and shoulder muscles and relieve the pull on the hood, then extend to the very highest of my tippy toes, and likewise relax my arms, but the 4x4s were unstable and I realized that one slip and they could topple, leaving me fully suspended. This tenuous situation was by design, of course, but now that I was here, I struggled to avoid the abyss of full suspension.

There were two unanticipated complications. One was the effect of the hose dangling from my gag. With each turn of my head, the hose would swing over and contact the cloths pins on my now aching nipples. At one point, the bulb swan beyond the clothes pin on my left nipple and rested on the outside of it, exerting pressure and sharply increasing the clamp's effect. By swinging my head, I got the hose to fall off of the clamp, which dragged the clip over on its side then rapidly released it as the hose fell free.

Intense! So I imagined that my captors forced me to do this every few minutes, one side or the other, for their amusement. I found myself involuntarily groaning and twisting in my bonds at the pain.

Next, the gag itself. I hadn't any real experience and what I thought was to be a comfortablly squishy gag turned out to be increasingly cruel as time went by. It had puffed my cheeks out as much as the hood would allow and I was incresingly aware of how it filled the back of my mouth, teasing my gag reflex. A couple of times I adjusted my tongue and set it off, convulsing in my bonds and frightening me with the prospect of what could happen if I actually retched. Absolutely no air could get by, which was also a bit more alarming that I had thought, but when the drool started puddling under my chin and eventually running down my throat and chest, I felt, how to describe it?, deliciously debased?

An hour was starting to seem like a long time.

The rumble came from afar, but was unmistakable even through the hood. The heat and humidity of the day had reached a peak and the air was beginning its afternoon ritual of forming huge clouds. It had been a while since it had rained here, but when the monsoon thunderstorms let loose, huge torrents of water arrived very quickly. As the thunder became louder and more frequent, the arrival of the storm became imminent. I could feel it more than hear it as the heavy drops drummed on the roof. The storm brought slightly cooler air with it, although it was still very warm and even more humid than before the storm's arrival.

As I settled deeper into the effects of my confinement, the strictness of the posture demanded movement to lessen cramping. Small seldom used muscles began to tire and I found myself becoming less and less stable atop the posts. They teetered this way and that as I adjusted to relieve my various strains. I thought that perhaps another tug on the ropes would provide support for my legs, so I did so, simultaneously pulling down on both sides. My legs did receive more support, but the change pulled them farther up and out, making it harder to control the swaying posts, as my knees were now pulled out to almost above the posts and my only contact was almost on tip toes.

The thunder suddenly issued forth with alarming intensity. A sudden incredibly loud bang shook me to the core as a bolt must have struck very near. I normally revel in these amazing storms, but in my current situation, the deep rumble that followed carried with it a menace that had my heart racing. More strikes followed, several seemed even louder than the first as the storm must have been building along the slope of our mountain.

I renewed a vain struggle to see if maybe there was some way to get loose. The deep rumbles, both disorienting and disconcerting, imparted an urgency to my plight. What if the house caught on fire? Was that smoke I smelled through the confinement of my hood?

I gyrated alarmingly with my frantic efforts at escape. Leg muscles complaining, I pulled with my arms to give them a bit more of a break. The gyration swung back and the left post tipped abruptly. I remember my earnest desperation as I flexed on my tiptoes to hold onto it, but could not quite keep it. Suddenly the left post was gone and a clonk signaled its toppling was complete.

With only one leg on its post, I swung even more wildly under the bar, and settled deep to my left, pulling the whole rig tighter. My left leg was still held out by its' rigging while my right foot could barely hold onto its' post, but I clung to it, legs splayed, breath huffing through my nose.

It was clear that I had done too good a job on my restraints to escape and now I pondered the inevitability of losing the other post and being fully suspended. Even with one foot having support, relaxing my arms would pull my hood and collar tighter, making my breaths increasingly labored. Even though I had installed the collar chain with a limiter, the effect combined with the posture and my considerable exertion produced a sensation of very restricted breathing. I could pull with my arms and shoulders to relieve much of the pressure on the hood, but I knew my arms would eventually demand their own rest.

I wondered how long it would take for that ice to melt, the warm day being why I had put extra ice in the mesh bags. And how long had I been at this anyway? Climbing, rafting and running had me strong and in good shape for endurance sports, but this was something else.

Time became an abstract notion. As the storm continued to rumble, the air had cooled but was still warm, humid, adding to the heat generated from my considerable physical efforts. Hotter still was the deeper excitement that welled up from the pit of my belly, spreading from the lump in my throat to the erotic yearning of my pussy. My nipples ached deeply, deliciously - marked by sharper sensations when my occaisional abrupt movements would cuase my titties to jiggle or the inflation tube to harass them. I could feel my skin glistening with moisture, beads of sweat tickling their way down my body. This was exceeding my expectations when I planned my ordeal, which, looking back on it now, I realize was perfect.

My reverie was interrupted by another wilder gyration. I had relaxed my focus for only a moment and this was the result. I flailed with my foot to maintain the post, but it was too late and it fell away, leaving me completely suspended in a type of spread eagle, which had just become even wider without the support of the posts. I kicked my feet around uselessly. Now I was really into it, and while it was very strenuous, the rigging was working and I was thriving. That realization sent a deeply erotic surge through my being.

Pulled in every direction, I used all my arm and leg muscles to take some of the weight off of the hood, but I couldn't take it all off, especially as my arm muscles began to tire. For brief periods, I could put all of take weight through the hood and collar, but found that it was most uncomfortable, barely able to wheeze my breath through the constrictions. The saliva from my gagged mouth had puddled and was now joining my perspiration and was oozing down my chest. The clothes pins seemed to be biting ever deeper into my nipples. And in the midst of this all, I found I was exploding with erotic energy, my splayed pussy begging harder for attention.

I wanted out and I wanted it to go on forever. I reveled in the intensity of such strict self bondage, in the way I must look to the fantasized onlookers, and imagined some angel finding me and adding sadistic torment and well deserved release to the mix.

...slowly twisting, subtly writhing, I drifted in the darkness...

Time was now lost on me, it must have been well over an hour since I had sealed my fate. The storm was receding, the thunder becoming distant and I could no longer sense the sound of rain through the hood. And my concerns about the lightening causing a problem had faded. I had come to a point where I was deep into accommodating the strictness of my predicament. My body had ached for release for awhile, then I fell into a new place. I hung, subtly changing small elements of my posture and muscles. I found that I could slightly pull up my feet, bending the knees slightly, and then squeeze back, providing a bit of lift from some muscles that weren't too fatigued or cramped. The caribiners on the posts held the ropes and my legs so that my lower back was slightly arched and I could flex my stomach muscles, tilting my pelvis forward and back for a bit of release. How must that look, if one could only see!

Oh yes, there was another unanticipated consequence. I had discovered while doing certain crunches, and even so more while doing leg curls in a gym, something about the muscles used seemed to activate my G spot. The movements I now used to try to support some of my weight on the straps at my knees was doing the same thing - not enough for a full O, but deeply stimulating nonetheless.

Such details took on great importance, as my options for movement were so limited. Breathing was always a chore and I could sense my rib cage working to expand and bring in air, my tummy sucked in below it . The clothes pins were becoming increasingly diabolical in their torment of my nipples and periodically I would convince myself that if I shook them really hard, maybe they would fly off and give me relief. Using all my strength, I would pull myself up and swing my chest back and forth as hard as I could. My titties would flop back and forth - it seemed that with just a bit more energy, the clothes pins would have to lose their grips on my aching nipples, so I put everything I had into it, accompanied by a frustrated squeal through my gag. But to no avail, and I would collapse back, breathing heavily and grunting in pain as the clips seemed to clamp even harder as if to punish me for my intention to loosen them.

And so I hung, widely splayed, glistening with sweat, writhing to take some weight away from my hood and collar, gasping for air, delerious with intense sensations...

Suddenly there was a jerk and my right leg came loose. The ice on that side had melted and an end was in sight. But, my leg didn't come loose all the way, something was caught. Still, the increased mobility was welcome, and I flexed my stiff leg exploring the newfound freedom. But, with loss of the support, I had to take additional weight through my exhausted arms, and I slumped heavily into my hood. My breathing became more restricted, noisier and I pondered what would become of the situation if my other leg release turned out to be hung up as well. A fresh spurt of adrenaline accompanied this thought and I thrashed around, struggling to avoid panic. My only real option was to maintain calm and wait.

Then, whatever was hanging up slowly loosened and my right leg came loose. Relieved, I tried to swing it forward to operate the crank and found that the leg felt rather numb. Between numbness and fatigue, it wasn't responding very well and I could not raise it far enough. The crank had to wait as my leg tingled and regained some strength. After a minute, I renewed my effort and swung it up again, but with the other leg still restricted, I found that I could not reach the handle anyway. The flailing effort now had me gyrating in my now lopsided rigging, my left leg still pulled up and out and my right unable to find purchase. I now regretted pushing the box away, but another part of me relished the new position and I started recapturing more of the erotic buzz. Not that it ever left, but an urgent swell of it washed over me and I again lusted for relief.

Suddenly I was swinging the other way. The abruptness caught me by surprise, as the ice had finally melted holding my left leg and the release was clean and complete. I hung for a few moments, tired leg dangling as the sensation and energy flowed back into it. With both legs free, I hopefully raised my right foot toward the hoist.

Where was it? My foot swung about finding only air and the panic started to swell again. Exhausted, I hung limply, feet dangling several inches off the floor, regaining strength and trying to think. My tired arms pulled to assist my head and neck, my chest rising and falling with labored breaths. New energy came at last and I went for the crank again, this time with the left foot, the one with which I had practiced.

Success, it was there! Elated, I reached around to throw the switch that reversed the action, but found a new dilemma: All my practice had been standing on one leg, now I was dangling. Every time I pushed, there was an opposite reaction and I swung away from the hoist.

Real panic. What if I have to wait for Renee to get back tomorrow evening? Could I even hold on that long? I find myself squealing in frustration into the gag. This was turning into far more of a marathon than I had expected. Still, almost against my will now, I found myself very turned on by the circumstances. And my pussy was again (still) begging for some attention, so I crossed my thighs, soaked as they were with sweat and my nectar from my yearning muff, pressed one up and rubbed them back and forth, stimulating my mons and clit. The sensation was wonderful, but was indirect enough that I knew this would not lead to the release I sought. I let myself enjoy the effect, waves of pleasure and small convulsions coursing through my wracked body. The watchers murmered their approval of this wanton display.

Lost in a timeless zone, I finally calmed, hanging almost limp and breathing raggedly. I felt a fresh surge of energy and reassessed my options.

I came up with an idea and put it into action. I started gently swinging forward and back, timing my efforts to flick the switch that reverses the action of the hoist with the swing of the rigging. After many attempts, I had a good idea where the switch might be in my dark world and, with a good swing and extra effort was finally successful in throwing the switch. Still swinging back and forth, I slumped in exhaustion, which quickly tightened the collar and demanded that I continue. My arms were really aching and felt empty of strength, but hanging my full weight on my hood just wasn't an option for more than a few seconds.

The process of operating the hoist took longer than I had come to expect from my practice with fresh legs and standing on solid ground. It took a seemingly tremendous amount of energy to get my leg up to the crank and get just half a turn completed. After a couple of turns, I needed to rest and again I could sense my ribs moving out and in working for air in response to the exertion. But slow progress was made. Eventually, as I completed yet another turn, my right toe seemed to brush something. With renewed vigor, I got another couple of turns in and now I could stand on my tippy toes - an incredible relief. The excitement of soon being free sent another wave of thrill through my tormented body which fed the increasingly urgent swelling of my bud. I could imagine the juices renewing their flow, as I reached up to get in another twist of the crank.

My mind really did not register it at first when I felt my legs being pulled back apart and out. Slowly my feet moved out, my toes stretching to maintain contact with the floor. As recognition of this frightening turn of events sunk in, I thrashed and squirmed, emitting deep grunts and squeals through my gag. All to no avail, my legs were pulled farther and farther apart until I was back, fully spread eagled, dangling, helpless. I let out a plaintive muffled wail which was cut short as I felt fingertips run lightly down my sides, across my belly, mingling with my juices and lightly skimming my swollen lips. So, I wasn't alone after all... and this realization was truly frightening. I let out a plaintive mewl.

It turned out that Renee had run into a flash flood about 45 minutes down the road and had eventually decided to just come home. She had pulled up to the house during the peak of the storm, so I hadn't heard her enter. She later told me that she had spent almost two hours, a glass of wine in hand, watching me squirming through my self imposed ordeals. She had arrived just before I had fallen off of the first block, so had caught most of the progression, and had briefly stood on the rope to my left leg when the ice melted - thus the temporary hang up..Though I would have been concerned that her reaction to my extreme play may have been negative, she assured me that she found it thoroughly entertaining, after the initial shock of finding me and realizing that my predicament was voluntary.

But that talk came later, after she had some more fun with me dangling, exposed and so at her mercy. She had not identified herself, so I was wondering who was playing with me, but I really had no voice in the matter other than a few hmmphs, which were ignored as far as I could tell. Needless to say, this new turn of events was truly fightening, at least at first, and had my adrenaline coursing.

I wondered who it could be. Had to be someone with the combination to the gate. Couldn't be Renee, she was gone. Tom and Jeff always called before making the long drive up to our place and there had been no call. Someone could have hiked in. Or it could be the owners, a pleasant couple quite a bit older than us, but they had never come by unannounced. I wimpered with desperation at my plight. How stupid could I have been.

After my legs had been pulled back out, I sensed the 4x4s being slid on their sides under my feet, which were only a few inches off the ground. I could stand on tip toes and appreciated the merciful gesture from this mystery person.

Then I felt the clothes pins being toyed with and the deep ache of my nipples became sharp with the twisting and pulling, even gentle as the manipulations were. Then, one by one, they were removed. The pain from the flood of blood back into my tormented nipples made me weak at the knees and I loudly grunted through my gag. Once removed, I felt a tongue flicking each one in turn, then a not-so-gentle suction as first my left then my right nipples were sucked into a warm mouth. The mixture of pain and pleasure had me moaning again, but with a bit different tone.

It was a welcome relief when my tormentor released the air from the gag. The gag was left in and still muffled any communication, but the stiff ache in my jaw and gag reflex began to wane. I made some attempt to plead with my captor that I was really ready to be let out. Since I still couldn't speak, I hoped to communicate through tones, but my incomprehensible blubbering was met with silence.

Various torments ensued for some time. At one point my legs began to spasm with the strict posture, very unpleasant, until my assailant loosened the ropes a bit and allowed me to stand more flat footed on the laid over 4x4s, still spread open wide, though. In this infinitely more comfortable position, my response to the other torments became more and more heated. I could still feel my body covered in renewed sweat and the touches I sensed on my sweet nether lips indicated that they were very wet from more than just sweat. This was playing right into my fantasy and, in spite of my fear of having been found out and at the mercy of some unknown, it was deeply exciting. My clit seemed to be bulging and it felt like the skin around my pussy was pulled tight by the blood engorged tissues.

Finally, I sensed a crescendo as more attention was paid to my pussy. At first, she (I was suspecting by this point it was a woman, couldn't be Renee. Perhaps Lisa had stopped by and was crazy/bold enough to carry on like this, but...how did she get in? I decided it was useless to try to guess under these cirtcumstances) played all around my vulva and then in the tightness of my deep cleft. Finding my G-spot, I quivered as waves of ecstasy washed through my body, yet my clit was only tantalizingly brushed, sending spasms through my body. I had several climaxes that would have rated as well above average in a normal night of lovemaking, yet I could feel a higher pressure building.

Then a surprise, as I felt fingers caressing my rose bud. I had not had much ass play before, so the sensation was a bit foreign and I instinctively tightened up. But with all the natural lubrication available and gentle touches, the sensation became more and more pleasurable as I surrendered to the attentions of my fantasy audience come alive. I felt the other arm reach around me and soon both my rose bud and my clit were being messaged, oh, just so right. At this point I also felt the soft yet firm sensation of a women's breasts caressing my hip as she reached around me and my suspicion was confirmed. I felt her right fingertip probe gently and enter into my rose bud. Gasping and moaning through my gag, my body convulsed as waves of an intense orgasm (was that only one?) consumed me. I was lost in a delirium as the fingers coaxed my orgasm along as few men understand how to do.

The waves receded, gentle caresses. The I felt the hoist being operated, the bar lowered some inches and my posture becoming infinitely less strenuous. I felt the buckle of the collar being undone and then the laces loosened up the back of my head. As it came loose, the hood was tilted by hands from behind and removed. My ponytail fell to my shoulder. Fresh air, easy breathing, and I sucked in deep lungfulls. Without the smell of leather filling my nose, I became aware of the intense musky aroma of sex that infused the air around me.

My assailant/rescuer/angel was still behind me as my eyes adjusted to the light. It was now after sunset and the living room was lit by only a few candles, she must have done that, so it wasn't harsh. With my hands still cuffed and hooked to the bar over my head, my head fell forward without any attempt to look to see who was behind me. I felt her hands reaching around from behind, touching, teasing, brushing against my still sensitive clit, sending shivers through my body in spite of the warm evening. I felt the breasts gently pressing into my back and I could feel the full nipples lightly scrape across my back, realizing that she had no shirt on.

Coming to the conclusion that my assailant wished me no harm, I slid back into my fantasy of being used for the amusement of strangers and hung in my restraints, slowly twisting and working the kinks out of my tired yet glowing body.

I was spent and satisfied after the exertions and incredible climaxes I had experienced, yet this new sensation was so pleasing that I felt a renewed surge from the pit of my belly as the gentle caresses were focused between my swollen pussy and my super sensitive nipples. I felt my flower blooming anew and a rich musky aroma confirmed that there was plenty of female sexual energy in the room. Now I felt her stand up behind me and lean into me, pressing her pubic bone into my left bun. I now knew that she had no skirt on either, nothing to impede the bushy friction of her mound moving against my butt. I naturally pressed back into her.

It occurred to me that by responding like this, I was proving to be quite the slut, which I really don't prefer to think myself to be. But here I was, shamelessly humping with some unknown woman, never mind the restraints. But there was no turning back.

My excitement mounted and, as she reached down from behind me and fingered my clit with her left hand, she rubbed herself deeper into my butt cheek. I felt her open her thighs and move onto me as I accommodated her by rocking my pelvis forward and back in a fucking motion, which was coming quite naturally as I felt another wave building. Our bodies were slick against each other, hot, smooth, sliding, undulating. I could feel the slick smoothness of her opened sex sliding on my skin between the gentle friction of her pubes. Her breathing was coming with sweet gasps now.

I felt her reach with her free hand and finger her own clit, quick flicks as her right leg came up and wrapped around my waist from behind, her heel gripping into my stomach.. She still pressed her muff into the curve of my left bun and started panting and singing her song of ecstacy - I definitely knew it was Renee by now. I could sense her muscles tensing and her body reaching for a crescendo. Her right hand suddenly moved away from her clit, she crushed her pelvic into my left hip She frantically reached around with her right hand and roughly grabbed my right breast, pulling herself into me as the fingers of her left hand suddenly dug deeply into my pussy as she convulsed in orgasm, eliciting a husky moan from me as I came yet again.

The waves lapped at our shores for a few minutes, gently receding. Renee untangled herself from me, turned to face me. She looked at me ravishingly in the gentle cadlelight, then put her hand behind my head and pulled my mouth to hers. We had pleasured each other before, basically with fingers and some long hugs for the boys, who always loved to watch, but never been truly intimate. I was in no place nor frame of mind to resist and we shared a long deep kiss, sweaty bodies gently massaging each other. I melted into her.

She pulled away from me, looking into my eyes. A smile spread across her face - we hadn't said a word to each other yet, other than the exclamations that burst forth with the crescendos of our pleasure.

"You look like you could use a glass of wine." She said with a husky voice.

"Uh-huh" was all that I could manage. She left me there hanging from my restraints and soon returned with a cool glass of Sauterne. She held it to my lips and I drank deeply, little bits escaping from the glass to drip down to join the mixture of moistness on my chest.

She put the glass down, I closed my eyes, felt refreshment from the wine, heard the sound of the winch and felt the lowering bar... then it stopped and started back up.

"Huh?!"

So, was that Renee's sense of humor or did she really take me back up?
The recounting of this adventure to this point has taken longer to write than to experience, so that's enough for now. I'll just have to leave you, and me, hanging.

Leah