Author's Note: Hey readers - this is my first non-fiction story, so you won't find any futuristic tech or, of course, anything non-consensual. That said, I hope you'll enjoy reading about this adventure even a fraction as much as I enjoyed actually doing it. -Beast5


This certificate good for one Kinky Treasure Hunt to be redeemed as soon as the bearer is ready.

My wife found the Valentine's Day card nestled between a dozen roses and some nice dark chocolates. She was probably expecting some kind of certificate. I've given her plenty in the past, but they've always been for things like back massages or nice dinners out. My certificates had never used the word 'kinky' before, and my wife was intrigued.

I've been into kink for, well, forever, but I'd only recently introduced my wife to that part of my world. I know, I should have done it a long time ago. It's just not that easy when it's a secret that has been kept locked up tight for so long. I didn't really think she'd freak out when I told her, but I was worried there was a small chance that she might, and even a small chance didn't seem worth the risk.

Turns out, I had nothing to worry about. She was quite interested when I told her about my secret fantasies, and the first time we tried a little bondage in bed she was totally into it. That success had given me the courage to plan something a little more elaborate. Our second experiment, this kinky treasure hunt, would involve more than just a couple velcro straps.

"So... how long will this treasure hunt take?" my wife asked, trying to pry some information out of me.

"That'll depend on you," I replied. "Once you start, though, you won't be able to stop until you're done. I mean, you really won't be able to stop."

That was all the information I was going to spill ahead of time, and it made her deliciously nervous. Of course she trusted me, but this whole kink-thing was totally new to her and she had no idea what it meant to not be able to stop in the middle of a treasure hunt. Valentine's Day fell at a bad time on the lunar calendar, if you know what I mean, so we had a few days to wait and let the tension grow.

A few days later, when I knew the time was right, I made her a nice dinner and had it all laid out in dim candlelight when she got home from work. The candlelight helped set the mood and made her wonder what might be lurking in the shadows of our house. I didn't let her go looking, and instead sent her straight to the shower when we were done eating, instructing her to dress in the clothes I had laid out for her when she was finished.

My wife came out of the bathroom looking hotter than hell. Her tightest pair of jeans squeezed her ass into an irresistibly cute package and faithfully framed her legs all the way down to her ankles. Those ankles sported the thin leather straps of her tallest, red patent-leather pumps, which served to make her legs and ass all the more irresistible.

On top, she was wearing the simple, black tube-top I had left for her, which covered her boobs for now and left her shoulders and arms bare. Her wet hair was pulled back in a ponytail, and she had replaced her slightly nervous look with one that said, "Come get me." That is exactly what I did.

After a passionate kiss, I had her sit on a low stool with her back to me. I pulled her right hand behind her and proceeded to tighten a brand-new, black leather cuff around her wrist. My wife is quite observant and probably noticed right away that the cuff didn't feel the same as the cheap velcro one we had used during our first little experiment. Of course, she was rather distracted by her anticipation, so she might not have realized at first that the cuff was different. She could not miss, however, the sound the lock clicking shut behind her.

As I pulled her left wrist behind her, I let her inspect what I had done to her right wrist. The wide, black leather cuff looked intimidating all on its own. The lock through the buckle's hasp doubled that intimidation, and made it very clear that the cuff would not be coming off without a key. My wife shivered as she heard the second lock snap close behind her, a reaction that I stoked by brushing her bare shoulders lightly with the tips of my fingers. I asked if she was okay and she whispered softly that she was, so I kept going.

I wrapped a woven leather belt around her left arm, just above her elbow, and secured it tightly in place with a zip tie. The belt acts just like a chain, allowing locks or zip ties to be pushed through the weave at any point along its length, with the benefit that it is considerably more comfortable to wear pressed against skin. I made sure it was indeed comfortable, and that it would be able to slip either up or down, then pulled her right wrist back behind her. A padlock passed through the D-ring in her cuff and through the belt near her elbow, ensuring that her right arm would stay there, folded behind her, until a certain key was found. I knew there was a lot of fun to be had before that key was found.

I zip-tied a second woven belt around her right arm, then locked her left wrist to the belt with a combination lock. Both her arms were now folded behind her back, each wrist locked near the opposite elbow, and they would stay that way until the key and combination were discovered. I massaged my wife's bare shoulders as I explained what I had done, then reached down and gave her boobs a tight squeeze through the thin fabric of her tube-top, emphasizing that she no longer had any ability to bat my groping hands away. She only moaned slightly in response.

My wife might have thought that her bondage was complete, but I wasn't quite done with her. Walking around to her front, I knelt at her feet, rolled up her pant legs, and proceeded to wrap a pair of new, black-leather cuffs around her ankles. I passed a single pad lock through the hasp of both buckles, ensuring that the cuffs could not be taken off without a key, and also preventing her ankles from moving more than an inch apart from each other. The combination of the black cuffs and her red pumps was really quite appealing, and I couldn't help but take a moment to stroke and squeeze her calves and tell her how sexy she was.

When my wife felt me unbutton her jeans, she may have thought that I was jumping the gun, or she may have been disappointed when I didn't go any further. Instead of pulling down her zipper, I took a key and secured it with a zip tie through the empty button hole. I did not, of course, tell her which lock the key might be paired with, and she had no way of reaching the key with her arms trapped behind her anyway.

The last step was to tape a small piece of paper to the inside of her tube-top. She surely felt me do it. As I said, she is quite observant. The knowledge that something might be there, however, didn't provide much help. She didn't know what it was, and it was well out of reach of her hands.

With one final, passionate kiss, I told my wife she was ready for the treasure hunt, and I placed the first clue down next to her on the stool. The clue read:

You're stuck! Oh Fuck! What will you do?
I suppose you will have to follow this clue.
The key you seek, that might help you escape,
it may be in a drawer with hole punch, check book and tape.

My wife knew just where that drawer was. Getting there was the bigger problem. She only rarely wears heels, and she has certainly never worn heels while her ankles are cuffed together with only an inch of slack between them. As I watched her take tiny steps towards the desk, every part of her body shaking deliciously as she went, I knew that all my planning was going to be well worthwhile.

She got the drawer open, only to find another clue:

As you can see, my dear,
there is no key here.
Perhaps it's in a book
that you often use to cook.
For starters, check the scoop
on African okra crab soup.

Getting the first clue out of the desk drawer had taken some pretty good twisting. Finding a specific page in a specific cook book was going to take a whole lot more. With her hands stuck behind her, she had to look for the right book, then turn around and grope blindly for it. She gave me a mock-stern look as she did this. I just reclined on the couch and watched her struggle.

The way her boobs swung when they were unencumbered by a bra was really quite nice. Even in the dim candlelight, my wife saw where my eyes had wandered, and gave me an extra, teasing shake of her chest as she finally pulled the book off the shelf. Finding the right page was no easy task, and I certainly didn't provide any help. I also resisted the urge to go touch her, knowing that she would be coming to me soon enough. Eventually, she found the recipe and the next clue.

Mmmm, this sounds tasty,
but is the key here? No! That would be hasty!
The next place to look
is under a basket filled with items to cook.

That basket was on the counter right next to my couch. To reach the clue underneath, my wife had to stand with her back to the counter, which meant her boobs were practically in my face. She could hardly blame me for reaching up and playing with them! I mean, I suppose she could blame me, since I had written the clues that required her to stand in that very spot. Fortunately, she didn't seem to mind.

It's not under here,
but it's under something else near...
Something we made... something of glass and wood...
Where you might have hidden in childhood.

That was a tricky clue, and she stood there pondering for a while before she realized I was talking about the desk we had built a while back. She then realized that getting to a clue underneath the desk meant she would have to get on her knees and crawl, a task not terribly easy to do with her arms folded behind her. It was, however, terribly fun to watch, especially as she grabbed at the hanging clue with her mouth and slowly backed out from under the desk.

If you're still on your knees, then get on your feet.
Find a closed door, and open it, my sweet.

When she first got home, she had noticed that the door to the side entryway was closed, but I hadn't let her discover the reason at the time. Following the clue, she shuffled across the room and opened that door to discover what I considered to be my first really brilliant installment of this treasure hunt.

A combination lock was hanging in the doorway at waist height. The lock's hasp secured a key. My wife could easily reach the combination lock and the key, but there was no way she could reach over her head to untie the rope that held both objects in place. Taped to the lock was the next clue.

This very key
will set your ankles free.
But before it can be used
a piece of clothing must be refused,
for the combo you seek
is taped to your top, where you currently can't peek!

I loved it. She had the key to her ankles within hands reach, but there was no way she could use it. She might be able to lay on her back and get her ankles up to the key, but then her hands would all the way down at the floor and useless to help. The only way to gain use of the key would be to find the combination to the lock, and in order to do that she was going to have to take off her tube-top.

I was more than willing to help her pull off the top if she needed assistance, but she refused. I figured she would. She is quite independent and rather stubborn, and insisted on completing the treasure hunt all on her own. That was, of course, why I had chosen a tube-top for her.

A shirt with sleeves or even straps would have been impossible to remove with her hands locked behind her back. The strapless shirt, on the other hand, could be pulled down over her hips and off her legs. That didn't mean it was going to be easy. No, it involved quite a bit of shaking and grunting, stretching her arms as much as her bonds would allow, and putting on a show that I was very happy to watch from my comfortable perch on the couch.

TWO
Two what, you say?
Two tits, hooray!
And two more digits, you'll need to find
in order to get yourself out of this bind.
You should try lookin'
on the back side of a couch cushion.

My wife now had the first digit of the three-digit combination that she needed in order to get to the key that would free her ankles. She was now also topless, wearing only her tight jeans, her tall heels, and the leather cuffs and belts around her wrists, elbows, and ankles. She made quite a sight, taking her tiny steps towards me so that she could search the couch I was sitting on for her next clue. Her bare breasts shook the whole way, so of course I could not resist playing with them as she knelt on the couch next to me.

As she bent over to grab one of the vertical back-cushions with her teeth, her boobs were literally hanging down inches from my face. My wife is no prude, but she still doesn't usually let me just toy with her tits as if they're my personal playthings. The position she was in, however, didn't leave her many options. Her hands were useless to swat mine away. She was committed to finding the next clue, so she had to kneel and bend right where she was. The only thing she could do was try to twist and shake her torso, but of course that only made her boobs swing around all the more.

Her only other option was to try to ignore me, which I made as difficult as possible. I batted at her hanging globes and when she still pressed on and had almost pulled the cushion far enough back to see behind it, I gave her rapidly hardening nipples a nice tight squeeze. That caused a gasp, which in turn caused her to drop the cushion and give me a little curse.

Her next effort was successful, despite my continued pinching, but only led to the discovery that the cushion she had chosen held no clue. I was sitting in the middle of our three-cushion couch, forcing her to waddle around me in order to make an effort at the cushion on the other side. I disrupted her first effort with a surprise lick to her right nipple before she discovered that the clue was not behind that cushion either.

Finally I moved, giving her access to the middle cushion and the next clue.

No numbers here, I'm sorry to say.
I just drew you near so your boobs I could play!
Try taking a look
on the cover of a songbook.

It took my wife a while to figure out what songbook I was referring to. Part of the problem was that the only songbooks she could think of were on her keyboard piano upstairs, and she was sure that the whole treasure hunt would take place downstairs given the status of her ankles. When she saw the size of my grin, however, she knew that her assumption had been incorrect.

My wife stood at the bottom of our carpeted stairs, wondering how on earth she was going to climb them with her ankles cuffed so closely together. I had a small panic when I saw her start to try to lift her right foot up high enough for her toes to gain purchase on the first step. That was not how I pictured her climbing, and would almost certainly lead to her falling backwards!

I raced over and pulled her back from the stairs, then turned her around and pushed her back so that she sat down on the third step. I explained that she would have scoot up backwards, one stair at a time. She complained that it would be slower than her way, but I said that was just too bad - no injuries were allowed during this treasure hunt!

When she finally made it to the top, she quickly found the next clue, only to find her effort being mocked.

All the way up the stairs you came,
but it was wasted effort, what a shame.
So funny, the digits that inspired the climb
were with you the entire time!
The insides of your shoes
is where you should peruse.
Need help with a buckle?
Ask your husband, though he may chuckle,
since you'll have to kneel at his feet
while this phrase you repeat:
"Please sir, can we make a deal?
One passionate kiss to remove each heel?"

I made my wife come all the way back down the stairs and over to the couch, where I was again lounging comfortably as I watched her topless toils. She tried to kick off her pumps on her own, but as I had suspected, the little buckled straps made it impossible for her. There was no other choice but to come kneel in front of me and ask for my help. I cupped her face in one hand, held her tight with the other, and we shared the two passionate kisses that the clue had required.

With the straps unbuckled, my wife was able to kick off her shoes and peer inside, where she found the remaining two digits to the combination she needed. A lot of effort went in to twisting her arms around and entering the combination onto the hanging lock, but she was eventually able to retrieve the key and the next clue, which I had cleverly folded and skewered though the hasp of the combination lock, so she didn't have access to it until she found the combo.

You have the key, but can you reach?
If not, your husband once more you must beseech.
Just lay on your stomach, down on the rug
and say, "Please sir, give my ankles a tug."
The position you make will resemble a hogtie,
and that will surely give your horny husband a nice high,
so don't be surprised and don't be sore
if he temporarily restrains you still more.

I was really looking forward to hogtying my wife, which would have been another big first for us. Unfortunately, my wife surprised me by getting into a squat position that just barely allowed her hands to reach her ankles and use the key without my help. I can't say I was all that disappointed, as she did put on quite a show in the process.

Opening that one lock had freed her ankles from each other, and also allowed her to pull both ankle cuffs off all together, since that lock had gone through both hasps. I suppose I felt a little disappointment at losing the sight of that black leather around her ankles, but I knew it was a necessary step for what was to come.

Freeing her ankles also unlocked the next clue to the hunt, which had been skewered through the hasp of the lock she had just opened.

Your legs are free!
Oh golly, oh gee!
But you're still tied up and topless,
So don't quit now, gorgeous!
The next key you seek
is in a drawer with a new egg cooking technique.

My wife knew that drawer, and it was considerably easier to walk over to it with the full use of her legs returned to her. It was still difficult to bend all the way down and slide out the bottom drawer, and it must have been deliciously frustrating to find a bag that said Key to Right Wrist in Here, but was securely locked closed with yet another combination lock. The next clue was taped to the outside of the bag.

Foiled again! But don't be sad;
a smart girl like you will never be had.
Just go find a light that you really don't like,
and the missing digits you might strike.

There's a light in our bedroom that my wife really doesn't like, but hey, we're just renting so we live with it. When she got back upstairs and into our bedroom she must have been confused to find a large padlock hanging from that light. A clue taped to the light gave some explanation as to how this padlock figured in to the hunt.

What good is a lock, all on its own?
Perhaps it hides a digit that you would like known.
Try to unlock it, you've got the key,
it's right on your pants, easy as can be.
What, cannot reach it? Arms are all tied?
Then off with those jeans, all modesty defied!

Just like the lock in the entryway, this lock was hanging right at waist height. She could reach it with her hands, but the key she needed was zip tied to the front of her jeans. With her hands secured behind her back, there was no way she could use the key without first taking those pants off. In order to continue the treasure hunt, she had to continue to get more naked. My plan was working perfectly!

I had figured that I would stay downstairs while my wife struggled to remove her jeans, but the thought of her squirming around up there was simply too enticing to pass up. I took the stairs two at a time and got there just in time to see my wife arch her back and use her cuffed hands to shove her jeans down over her hips. This brought the panties I had given her into full view. That also meant that most of her ass was in full view, as the panties I had chosen did not cover much.

To get her pants the rest of the way off, my wife had to use the Jeans Removal Hook that I had helpfully screwed into the side of our bed. I had chosen just the right height so she could lie on her side, hook the top of her jeans, then shimmy forward as her pants were held in place. It was awesome to watch - my bound and topless wife squirming there on the floor in a strenuous effort to bare her lower half.

Once she was done, and standing there in only her skimpy panties and her bondage, my wife read the clue that had been attached to the jeans removal hook.

Once you are done using this hook,
on the inside of that lock is a number, go look!
But two more digits will be required,
so don't think this hunt is expired.
Find your next clue
within my new fancy shoe.

Sure enough, my wife was able to use her newly accessible key on the hanging lock, and discover the number six written on the inner edge of the hasp. She then followed the clue into the closet, while I headed back downstairs, knowing she would be close behind me.

Not knowing the combo probably has you squealing.
Well, surely you've noticed the numbers on the ceiling?
The other digits are there, but there's a code you must break,
and in order to do that, a spanking you must take.
Just drape your tush across my knee
and say, "Please sir, won't you wallop me?"
A specific number I'll give, to left cheek and right,
just don't lose your count in the midst of your plight.

I was really looking forward to this part, and waited anxiously on the couch for my wife to come to me and ask for a spanking. She has a rather ambivalent attitude towards getting her ass smacked. Back when we first got together, she never let me do it and would tell me to cut it out after the lightest of swats.

Over time, she became less resistant, seeing that I clearly enjoyed giving her the occasional smack as she walked by, and knowing that I was doing it lovingly. She even began to return the favor, occasionally giving me rather hard slaps to the bum while I was otherwise engaged doing something like, say, pumping in and out of her in the missionary position.

All that said, we had never done anything like a good, thorough spanking. I didn't think she would go for it if I just asked her straight-up, but since it was now the only way she could continue the treasure hunt, I figured I had a decent chance. Turns out, I had figured correctly.

My wife gave me a sly look as she walked down the stairs, naked save for her panties, and of course unable to use her arms to hide any part of her body. I almost couldn't believe it, but she went ahead and draped herself over my knee, just as the clue had instructed, then said, "Please sir, won't you wallop me?"

The woman on my lap squirmed as I ran my hands over her body and told her that I would be happy to oblige. She had no idea how many spanks were coming her way, or just how hard my hands would fall. The chart I had taped to the ceiling of our bedroom listed a range potential spanks. It looked a bit like this, only with quite a few more possible combinations.

Left Buttock	10	25	5	26	4	13	30
2nd Digit	9	6	8	9	1	4	6
Right Buttock	15	4	17	13	26	29	8
3rd Digit	3	9	7	1	3	6	8

The number of spanks to each cheek corresponded to a potential digit for the combination lock. Each butt cheek could receive anywhere between one and thirty hits, and she would have to count the exact number to each if she wanted to find the second and third digits to the combination.

The fact that the chart was taped to the ceiling of our bedroom made it impossible for her to bring it downstairs with her. If she counted wrong or misremembered, her trip upstairs would be worthless and she'd have to come back down for yet another spanking.

I let the tension build further as I pulled the flimsy fabric of my wife's panties all the way up into her crack. Her two round cheeks lay before me, completely bare and completely helpless. Her folded arms were bound securely out of the way, and would be of no use in defending her ass. The lack of use of her arms also meant that I would be able to easily hold her down with one hand while I spanked her with the other. Of course, if she really wanted up I would let her, but the transfer of control was intoxicating. I hoped that feeling affected her as much as it did me.

Without warning, my hands went from stroking her ass to spanking it. I had written out a specific combination of slaps to her left and right cheeks. That way I could deliver a confusing pattern of left/right spanks that would be hard for her to keep track of, but I could simply enjoy the act without counting.

Enjoying it is exactly what I did. The feel of her smooth, bare skin beneath my palm was simply scrumptious. The sight of her round cheeks jiggling with each blow was mesmerizing. And above all, the knowledge that I was spanking my helpless wife like a naughty schoolgirl was just mind-blowing!

"Wait!" she called before I had slapped each cheek three times. "I lost count! Start over!"

I touched her face and laughed at her, asking if she had been distracted by something. She just put a look of determination on her face, tapping willpower to succeed, even when that meant laying there and getting spanked. I loved it.

She lost track again, and I happily started over again. I had been planning to send her up and down the stairs each time she lost the count, but it turned out to be more fun to keep her trapped where she was, asking again and again for me to begin spanking her all over again.

I started delivering only two or three spanks at a time, letting her update her count to left and right cheeks before giving her another set. The tradeoff was that I started spanking her ass even harder, producing a satisfyingly loud slap with ever blow. If she minded, she didn't show it in the least; she just kept concentrating on the count.

Finally, she had got the count right - just ten to the left cheek and thirteen to the right. Of course, in order to get there she had actually received many more, but that wasn't my fault! With her hard-won knowledge, she ran upstairs and found the final two digits to the combination - nine and one. She came back downstairs and retrieved the locked bag, then struggled to enter the combo.

Finally, she got the bag open and retrieved the key that kept her right wrist locked to her left elbow. Using that key was no simple matter, but after some struggling she got it to work. Her left wrist was still locked to her right elbow with yet another combination lock, but she had still gained some considerable freedom. She also found the next two clues, which had been locked through the hasp she had just opened. The first one read:

One wrist down and one to go,
you've been rocking this treasure hunt like a pro.
Now to find the first digit, here's a task to embrace.
Stand with back to husband, spread legs, bend at waist.
Repeat: "Please sir, I have an itch I cannot reach.
Won't you help out by stroking my peach?"
I'll surely oblige, with a number of strokes.
Don't lose count, no matter the feelings it evokes.

As my wife followed the directions of her latest clue, the answer to the question of whether she had enjoyed her spanking and her bondage became clear. I pulled her panties to one side and saw that her pussy was positively dripping. She stood there, obediently holding her bent and spread position as she squirmed in anticipation of my impending touch.

Her body jumped when I made contact with her lips, but she stayed mostly in place. I slid my fingers all the way up along her lips until I reached her clit, where I made sure to brush the most sensitive place on her body before sliding my fingers back down the way they had come. As I slid my fingers down, I said simply, "One."

I counted the second stroke for my wife as well, so she could tell exactly what I considered to be one complete stroke, then I left the counting up to her. Watching her squirm in abject lust was probably the most erotic part of the treasure hunt thus far. I took it nice and slow, allowing her to keep the count and making sure she enjoyed each stroke to the fullest. She was definitely going crazy by the time I got to eight and stopped.

With some reluctance, she stored the number eight in her memory and went on to the second clue that had been locked to her right wrist.

Up in our bedroom, is something out of place?

If so, there's a reason, a clue at its base.

She threw one hell of a sexy look back at me as she went to climb the stairs. I knew she'd be back soon, and I hotly anticipated what I'd be doing to her as soon as she returned. The clue she found read:

ONE
That's the second digit, but you still have one left.
To find it, you'll again have to make use of your cleft.
Not with my fingers this time will I please you,
rather with your rabbit inserted I'll tease you.
Bring it to me, ditch your panties, and make yourself ready,
On the rug on your back, heels lifted, spread and steady.
Say: "Please sir, that itch has come back.
Using this toy, won't you give it a whack?"
Take note of the speed of the vibrating toy.
The number you seek is the top setting I employ.

My wife knew exactly where her rabbit vibrator was stored, and in no time was carrying it back down the stairs, squirming out of her panties, and laying on her back on the floor in front of me. She wanted it. Bad. Before giving it to her, I made her scoot a little closer to me so I could slip her ankles through the rope loops that I had tied to either side of the couch. Tightening those loops meant that her legs were trapped, up on the couch and spread open wide. Her left wrist was still locked behind her back to her right elbow, leaving both hands trapped uselessly beneath her.

She was left with absolutely no way to prevent me from plunging the rabbit vibrator into her very available pussy. Of course, that's exactly what she wanted me to do, but she was also clearly a bit terrified. The vibrations of this toy can quickly drive my wife crazy under normal circumstances, and these were certainly not normal circumstances.

Between the bondage, the spanking, and the clit stroking, she had already reached a high level of arousal. Now she was butt-naked and at my mercy as she watched the large device approach. She obviously wanted it, but must have worried that without any control she might not be able to stop me before I drove her completely insane.

I have no idea how many times she orgasmed, or if what I was watching was just one, crazy, continuous orgasm. All I know is that her body was spasming before I even got the rabbit ears firmly in place on top of her clit. I started those ears vibrating, but told her that those vibrations had nothing to do with the intensity level that she needed to be paying attention to. I doubt if she even heard me.

I hit the start button on the large dildo itself, and watched my wife's spasming reach a whole new level. As the toy spun and shook inside of her, she shook and wiggled on the outside. Her gasps and moans were getting more intense and desperate, and I knew I didn't have much time. I turned the dildo up to its second vibration level, saying "Two," as I did so because I knew she had no hope of ascertaining the level otherwise.

I quickly drove the device up to levels three and four, driving my wife crazy in the process. I only left it there for a moment, telling her what level it was on and then pulling the whole thing away from her just moments before I knew she would be screaming for it to stop.

My wife lay there panting, still trapped by the ankle ropes but free of the dreaded bunny. I ran my hands along the insides of her thighs, telling her she was amazing and had put on the most beautiful show for me. Then I finally let her ankles loose. The number four was the final digit of the combination lock holding her left wrist behind her back. It was not easy for her to enter that combo, and once again required some nice contortions, but at least she had both hands free.

Opening that lock released two slips of paper that had been skewered through the hasp. One was a certificate for a full-body massage, which was clearly much deserved after the ordeal I'd put her through. The other was a bit of a dare.

Congrats, you're free! Your prize is collected:
a certificate for massage, as you may have expected.
Now if you still have that itch, here's what you must do
to entice me up to satisfy you.
Stand facing our bed and slip ankles and knees
through the rope loops awaiting to trap you with ease.
The next step is tricky, so read carefully.
Two ropes from the headboard are in reach, do you see?
With locks from the hunt you must trap each wrist,
by locking each cuff to the corresponding loop that exists.
Now you are stuck, though you aren't quite done.
Grab on to each rope end and pull on them hon.
Keep pulling and stretching, making it strict,
though beware, they only slide tighter, so do not be tricked!
Now call: "Please sir, I'm stuck and cannot get free.
Might you have a tool you could use to help me?"

When I had designed this treasure hunt, I had no idea if my wife would actually be willing to put herself into this position. After watching the orgasmic show the rabbit vibrator had caused, I had no idea if she'd even be game for anything more. With a wicked smile, however, she proved both worries to be false and headed on up the stairs.

My intention was to stay downstairs until I heard her call for me, so that I could witness the full glory of her self-bound body all at once. I really did wait on the couch for almost a full minute before deciding that I absolutely had to witness what was going on. I tiptoed very quietly up the stairs, wanting my wife to continue thinking she was alone for the moment.

I poked my head around the corner of our bedroom, where I could see the end of our bed and most of her body, but her head would be out of view so she couldn't see me. It was an excellent vantage point. She had found the rope loops that I had left dangling off the end of the bed, neatly labeled for her right and left ankles and right and left knees. Those ropes now held her legs wide open, and her position standing at the end of the bed meant her legs would stay straight and her ass would stay high.

As I watched, she bent forward and began fumbling with the two open locks she had brought with her. The wrist cuffs were still locked to her wrists, since she had previously only detached the cuffs from her elbow belts and had not been able to actually remove the cuffs themselves. That meant those cuffs were still available to help lock her down once more.

From the front corners of the bed, I had tied two ropes that she was working with. I labeled the rope loops so she would know exactly where to lock the D-rings of her left and right cuffs. In order for her to have the ability to use both hands, those loops were quite loose and met in the middle of the bed, just in front of where she was standing. However, as instructed in the final clue, she then pulled on the rope ends that I had left for her. Each rope went through a two-ring self-tightening device so that she could pull the slack out of the loops, but could not then loosen them.

I watched from my hiding place as she continued to pull tighter and tighter, drawing herself facedown into the bed. All I had really hoped for was that she would pull the ropes tight enough so that she would be forced to bend over and her hands would be held out of the way. The fact that she voluntarily went so much further served as proof that she really was getting into this whole bondage thing. I really couldn't have been more happy, or more horny.

My wife didn't stop tugging on the ropes until her wrists were pulled as far as they could possibly go towards the front corners of the bed. Her body was left stretched over the end of the bed - legs spread, ass up high, face down on the bed, and arms pulled towards the corners. She had done it all to herself, and was left with almost no wiggle room and absolutely no way to escape without my help.

I was mesmerized, and was only shaken out of my trance by my wife calling, "Please sir, I'm stuck and cannot get free. Might you have a tool you could use to help me?"

I sure did have a tool, and I didn't have to be asked twice to come use it. I stood behind my very helpless wife, my hands roaming her naked ass, wondering if she would be up for a little more spanking as I really got to work.

Hell, what was I worried about? What had I been worried about for all those years that I'd kept my love of bondage a secret? Look at what my wife had just done! She trusted me without question and was clearly up for anything that I might deliver. As I finally plunged my cock home, I marveled all over again at the amazing woman I had married.