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 ï>¿Ariana's Ordeal bymollycactusÂ(C)

   Ariana Steele -- Arin, to her friends -- had a stressful job, which she
loved.  Her brilliant mind was responsible for her being third in her class
when she graduated from Harvard Law School.  She found Cambridge to be a
wonderful place to learn, and she wanted to stay near it.  So, it was no
surprise when she accepted a job at a prestigious Boston law firm, and rose
rapidly in the ranks.

   She was also pleased to find that if she went west past the I-95
beltway, the countryside took on a rural, almost bucolic, appearance.  The
house she bought was isolated, and that was perfect for giving her the
peace and quiet to unwind.

   But the stress of her job couldn't just be dissipated completely by
passivity.  Arin tried partying, going to clubs, and 'dancing her ass off'
as they say.  The frantic activity freed her mind and let her use her body
to express herself.  To say Arin was good looking was a gross
understatement.  She was a knockout!  If she stared at herself in a mirror,
she saw the myriad 'faults' that any female feels when perusing her own
body.

   But an objective observer, if they were lucky enough to be permitted
such a scrutiny, would have reported things about Arin differently. 
Starting at the top, they'd mention soft, luxurious, long brown hair that
fell in gentle curls well past her shoulders, if it was let down.  Then
they'd talk about her deep brown eyes, radiating intelligence, her pert,
kissable nose, and her luscious lips, quick to smile when she was happy.

   If the observer could take the liberty to brush back Arin's hair, her
delicate ears would appear, and her sensuous neck, so full of erogenous
zones, especially her nape.  But not only her neck responded to kisses and
caresses -- her collarbones and 38 C breasts, with their quarter-sized
areolae, had special spots which, when discovered, could drive her into
ecstasy.  Even stroking or kissing her tummy could arouse her, especially
if a tongue was dipped into her navel, and lingered.

   Of course her pussy was a fantastic erogenous zone.  That almost goes
without saying.  But so were her thighs, knees -- especially their backs,
her calves, and feet -- especially the toes.  In short, Arin's body was an
orgasmic minefield, that many men, and women, if truth be told, had tiptoed
through during her life.  She'd started in high school by giving her first
handjob.  Some of the guy's emission ended up on her hand, threatening to
drizzle onto her skirt.  Without thinking, she licked her hand clean
quickly, and tasted cum for the first time.  It was a strange, not
unpleasant taste, she found.

   The next time she gave a handjob, she held her face closer to the guy's
dick as she pumped, and 'accidentally' let some of his first spurt hit her
lips.  Sure enough, this second sampling of semen tasted good enough that
Arin graduated to blowjobs, sucking the guy's cock until he ejaculated, and
swallowing his cum.  Needless to say, she was popular.  She even found that
sucking on her own nipples when studying could help her keep alert.  This
came in handy when she experimented sexually with her female friends.  She
ultimately had sex with members of both sexes, and found pros and cons to
each.  She loved the passion of having her cunt stretched while a guy
pounded her out.  But she loved perhaps a bit more the delicate, sensuous
touches of a woman's hand and tongue.

   So now, firmly ensconced in her career, Arin was decidedly bisexual, but
job stresses left her little time for a personal life, and therefore horny.
Her job often took her out of town on extended trips, when she was called
upon to act as a defense attorney for their clients.  Once the trial was
over, Arin might linger in that far away city for a day or two, blowing off
steam by finding no-strings-attached bedmates, and having herself fucked
and sucked silly.

   Sometimes their clients were brought into court handcuffed, if they were
considered a flight risk.  If the client was considered dangerous, they
might even be brought in wearing body shackles, with a chain around their
waist, attached by chains to wrist cuffs and chains to ankle cuffs.  Arin
noted how this restricted the client's movements -- they had to shuffled to
move, and the chains clanked with each step.  Arin pitied these people --
men and women -- being treated in such a manner, little knowing how these
images were working their way into her psyche.

   A turning point occurred when she was visiting an old boyfriend far
across the country.  In the years since she'd last shared his bed, he'd
gone on to experiment with a swinging lifestyle, so he took Arin to a party
of like-minded people.  In addition to the visual stimulation afforded by a
group of nude bodies of various shapes, colors, sizes, and ages, both male
and female, freely engaging in sex acts while others watched, Arin tried a
few new things.  She performed cunnilingus while being fucked doggy style.
She performed fellatio while two women sucked on her tits.  She learned
that their version of 'rotisserie sex' meant being mouth fucked at the same
time that another guy fucked her pussy.  She even experienced her first
double penetration, being fucked simultaneously in her cunt and ass.

   But the most novel thing occurred near the end of that party.  Since she
trusted her former boyfriend, and there were a lot of witnesses present,
she consented to being tied spreadeagled on a bed, while her boyfriend
fucked her, and everyone else watched.  It was the most overt act of
sexuality that she ever performed before a large group of people, most of
whom were virtually strangers.  The ropes at her wrists and ankles
prevented her limbs from moving very much.  But she could still writhe and
squirm and buck her hips as he reamed her cunt with his dick, using a basic
missionary style position.  He kept his upper torso braced up off of hers,
which caused her to focus a lot on the point of contact between their
bodies, where their pelvises were slapping together.  It also gave the
onlookers a better view of her torso as she sweated and strained.

   Arin had her first experience of multiple orgasms during this act.  She
came so hard and so often that she was dazed when they'd finished.

   The next day, as she flew home in first class, she analyzed that
experience, wondering what triggered that sequence of orgasms.  She'd never
cum in sequence like that before, and certainly not that intensely.  She
was slumped in her plane seat, fully relaxed, and somewhat bemused and
starry-eyed, still feeling the effects.  Her immediate thought was that it
really just couldn't have been sex with her former boyfriend.  Certainly
the sex with him had been good in the past, but never that good.

   Was it the accumulation of all those dual and even triple couplings
during the party?  She didn't think so, because there had been a period of
respite and cuddling before that final event.  Was it performing in front
of so many people?  Being the center of attention?  No, it really couldn't
have been that.  Arin knew herself well enough that she knew that
exhibitionism wasn't really her thing.  In the courtroom, she had to put
aside her normal tendency toward introversion, because she had to perform
in her client's interests.  Her choice of an isolated home was further
proof in her mind that she was more introvert than extrovert.

   Something nagged at her at that moment.  Something about court.  Being
in court.  And a new thought surfaced.  "Oh, no.  It can't be that!" she
chided herself mentally, shaking her head.  But her analytical mind
processed and processed, trying to disprove the hypothesis, and could not.
"I was tied to the bed," she thought.  "I'd never been tied up like that
during sex." She stroked her chin, thoughtfully.  "I remember straining at
the ropes -- how helpless I felt.  How vulnerable.  Unable to do much but
struggle, and not even much of that."

   She gasped aloud.  So loudly that a flight attendant walking by looked
concerned.  "Are you all right, Miss?  Do you need a glass of water or
something?"

   "No, I'm fine, thank you," Arin replied, blushing delicately.  "I just
remembered something important I forgot to do.  I'll make a note of it, and
handle it when I get home," she offered as an excuse.

   As the flight attendant smiled and walked away, Arin continued her train
of thought -- the realization that made her gasp.  "Tied up like that, I
had to cede my control.  My whole life has really been about control.  My
job demands it.  And as much as I love my job, all that stress of being in
control has taken its toll.  It wasn't the onlookers.  It wasn't really
being on display.  It wasn't really the fucking in and of itself, although
that certainly helped.  It was losing control!  Since I couldn't control
what was happening, I could only let go, submit, and experience it!  And
wow!  Did I ever experience it!" She smiled and felt goosebumps ripple
along her arms, remembering that firecracker string of climaxes that seemed
to go on and on and on.

   Even the thought of being tied up like that again made her body react
viscerally.  Her nipples stiffened, pressing against her blouse so firmly
that her breasts ached slightly.  She felt dampness near the joining of her
thighs, and hoped the pungency coming from her stirring pussy wouldn't
carry too far.  She decided to visit the plane's restroom to blot her pussy
dry, lest the leaks stain her skirt.

   Inside the secured restroom, she hiked her skirt up to her waist, and
pulled her panties partway down her thighs.  She grabbed some paper towels,
intending to wipe herself.  But the scent from her gently swollen labia
wafted into the air around her as her pussy was exposed to the air.  That
aroma prompted her to touch a hand to her wetness, and lick her essence off
that hand.  Her familiar taste triggered her libido, so she straddled the
toilet, and started fingering herself.  It felt wonderful, as usual, to
masturbate, even in that cramped little room.  She knew she couldn't take
long in there, even if she was flying first class, so she was trying to
hurry.  Just then it occurred to her to imagine being tied to that bed
again.  She was shocked at how quickly her orgasm rocked her body, just by
holding that image in her mind.  An intense, satisfying climax claimed her,
as her cunt juices rained into the toilet bowl.

   Panting, she rested a minute or two, then wiped her pussy thoroughly,
and resolved to stop mulling this over until she was safely home.  All of
her spare panties were in her checked baggage, after all.  When she got
back to her seat, she buried her mind in the mystery novel she'd bought
before boarding the plane.

   Back home again, Arin pondered her dilemma.  She wanted to recapture
that feeling, but it was impractical to replicate what had happened.  She
didn't know any swingers.  She didn't have a boyfriend, or girlfriend for
that matter, who could tie her to her bed.  Nor did she really want someone
invading the solitude of her home.  She tabled the matter for the moment,
choosing to let her subconscious mind mull it over.

   Weeks later, one of her defendants was again brought into court in
handcuffs.  When Arin saw those cuffs, her heart skipped a beat, as 'loss
of control' echoed through her mind, seeing that.  Would handcuffs do what
she needed?  She knew she could easily purchase a pair of them.  The
problem was, she didn't know enough about how they worked.  Could she put
them on herself?  And more importantly, could she get back out of them when
she needed to do so?  She had to put those thoughts aside, and focus on the
trial.

   Afterward, Internet searches about the use of handcuffs and escaping
from them looked too confusing.  The presenters were either terrible
instructors, or too glib, or used very complicated devices and language. 
Arin went so far as to purchase a pair of professional police handcuffs,
but after taking them out of their box, was too frightened to test them. 
She put them into one of her drawers.

   A week or two later, she was at a bar and grill, having a drink, and a
couple of guys got rowdy with each other, and were mouthing off.  As it
escalated, the bartender quietly called the cops, and two of them must've
been patrolling nearby, because they walked in within about two minutes of
the call.  Arin recognized one of them, a policewoman named Barbara
Sanders. She watched as Barbara determined that the men weren't drunk, and
overheard her say, "You can both disperse peacefully, and spend the night
in your own homes, or we can slap the cuffs on you, and you can spend the
night in jail." As she said this, she brandished her set of cuffs for
emphasis.  The men, chastened, wisely chose to disperse.  But Arin's eyes
were fixated on the cuffs, before Barbara stowed them away again.

   Apparently, it was time for the officers to take a dinner break, so they
called in their location, and prepared to order food.  Barbara saw Ariana,
and waved hello at her because their dealings in the past had always been
amicable.  In fact, Barbara came over and said, "Hi Ariana.  Do you mind if
I join you for a chat as I eat?  I'm always eating with my partner, Joe,
and he and I could use a little quiet time apart, on occasion."

   "I don't mind it at all Barbara," Arin answered with a smile.  "Please
join me.  I'm glad you were here so quickly to de-escalate that situation
before it got out of hand." Arin was thinking to herself, "Here's a
handcuff expert.  Maybe she can tell me what I need to know...  But how can
I steer the subject that direction?"

   After some polite chatter, Arin had an inspiration.  "Barbara, seeing
you threaten those men with your handcuffs reminded me of something I've
been meaning to ask.  When my clients are brought into court wearing them,
I'm worried that they'll trip and land on the cuffs and get their wrists
squeezed off or something.  Is that a legitimate fear?"

   Barbara smiled.  "Not at all, if the officer that secures them knows
what they're doing.  Let me show you." She brought out the cuffs and closed
it partway on her own left wrist.  "See?  So far its locked, and can't
open." She tugged on it.  "But it can still ratchet tighter." She pushed
and it notched farther in.  "But see this little stud here?" She pointed.
"That's for doing what's called 'double locking' the cuffs.  I use the
pointy nose of the cuff key, and press that stud in." She showed how that
was done, using her key.  "Now the cuff still can't open, but it also can't
close any farther." She pressed hard, and nothing happened.

   "That's a relief," Arin said with a sincere smile.  "And once they're
cuffed, they can't free themselves?" she asked with what she hoped was a
tone of innocent curiosity.

   "Well, if they got their hands on the cuff key, or any thin piece of
metal like a paperclip, they sure could, which is why we have to search
them thoroughly," Barbara answered.  "Here, I'll show you, if you'll help
me double lock these." She seemed happy to show off her knowledge and
skills to an appreciative audience.

   "Okay, what do I do?" Arin asked.

   Barbara easily snapped the cuffs onto both her wrists.  "Okay, Ariana.
Take the key, and push in the studs on both of these cuffs for me." After
Arin did so, Barbara continued, "Now leave the key on the table." Once Arin
did, Barbara scooped it up and, turning her wrists, easily inserted the key
into the cuff on her left wrist.  "See, first I twist it gently this
direction, to make the stud pop out again, and then I twist it the other
direction, and the cuff pops open." It did, like magic.  "Now that one
wrist is freed, even though I'm right handed, I can repeat that trick well
enough with my left hand to free my right wrist." She demonstrated, and was
completely free again.

   Arin almost applauded.  "What a neat trick!  Thanks for showing me."

   "My pleasure." Barbara took a bite of her sandwich.  After chewing and
swallowing, she said, almost as an afterthought, "Cuffs are easy.  I guess
that's why people that are into self bondage rely on them so much."

   "Self bondage?  I've never heard that term," Arin said, confused.

   "Well, it's a kink, I guess.  People come up with ways to tie themselves
up for some period of time, using things like ropes or handcuffs.  I'm not
sure why they do it, but it's legal, and harmless if they're careful."

   "Gee, I learn something new every day," Arin said, giggling.  She and
Barbara talked about other things, taking their mind off the law for a
while, until Joe signaled that it was time to get back on patrol.

   After they left, Arin rushed home, eager to try out what she'd seen and
learned.  She wanted to do it while things were clear in her mind.  Pulling
out the handcuffs, she looked for and found that double locking stud. 
Attaching the cuff to her left wrist, she adjusted its tightness, and
pressed in the stud.  Sure enough, the cuff was now immobilized, neither
opening or closing.  Next, she inserted the key, and twisted it slowly,
watching the stud.  With a 'click' sound, it popped out.  Turning the key
the other way, she opened the cuff and watched it fall free.

   Heart racing, and feeling a little giddy, Arin cuffed her left wrist
again, and then, almost fainting from excitement and fright, closed the
cuff on her right wrist.  She had to put the key in her mouth to use its
tip to double lock the right wrist cuff.  Carefully placing the key on top
of a table, she tested the cuffs.  She was restrained!  She actually felt a
little helpless, with her hands pinioned together like this.  Now, could
she free herself?

   Picking up the key with her right hand, she twisted her wrists and
managed to get the key into the left cuff.  But when she turned it a
little, the stud didn't pop out!  "Oh shit!" she thought.  She took a deep
breath.  She tried turning it the other way, and was gratified to see the
stud emerge.  Her hands were shaking slightly as she turned the key the
other direction.  But the cuff opened, like it was supposed to do.  Seconds
later, her wrists were free again.  Her journey into self bondage had
begun.

   She had to see what it felt like to be naked and cuffed.  Removing every
stitch of clothing, Arin snapped the cuffs on her wrists with more
assurance this time.  The exposure of being naked, with her hands
restrained caused goosebumps of excitement that spread from her arms to her
torso.  The goosebumps rippled up the flesh of her breasts, and as they
reached the peaks, her areolae crinkled into a reddish-brown pebbled
surface, and her nipples surged forward in roseate splendor.  Arin brushed
her forearms across her nipples and felt a surge of blood flood into her
labia!  It amazed her how much this was turning her on.

   Padding barefoot into her bedroom, Arin raised her bound wrists high
above her head, thrusting her tits forward as she move to one of her
bedposts.  She pressed her crotch against that cool, gleaming white
cylinder, and her hips instinctively started a slow hump and grind action.
Soon the bedpost had become slippery, receiving a glazing of her cunt
juice. She pressed harder against that slime, and humped faster, abandoning
herself to the sensations.  She began sweating from her efforts.  A scream
bottled up inside her as her increasingly wild gyrations against the post
made her tits bob, weaving strange patterns through the air and smacking
wetly against one another.

   She released the scream as she came.  She came hard, her orgasmic
shudders making her clit vibrate on the white wood.  The bedpost streamed
with her cum fluids.  As she sank to the floor on buckling knees, the chain
connecting her cuffs passed behind the top of the bedpost, and she ended up
kneeling on the floor, virtually cuffed to the bedpost, with her face
resting against the still warm cum bathing it.  Instinctively, she began
licking and sucking her cum off its surface, and that cum tasted more
delicious than she could ever remember.

   She started searching the internet for ideas about self bondage, and she
was astonished by what she found.  People had all sorts of ingenious ideas
about how to restrain themselves, hopefully safely, for varying periods of
time.  Prudently, she secreted a spare key to the handcuffs in the bottom
of a jug of used motor oil in her garage.  It would have to be an emergency
for her to smash that and dig through the mess for the key.

   To add to her feeling of vulnerability, Arin was always naked now when
cuffed.  Her skin crawled with excited goosebumps every time the cuffs
closed on her wrists.  She also learned to cuff her wrists behind her back,
and when it came time to free herself, had to open them purely by touch. 
Her hands often shook as she did so, since so many things could go wrong.
But once the cuffs were off, she was usually so excited that she'd
masturbate herself to a lovely climax, right where she stood, whether
inside or outside.

   The handcuffs did give her the sensation of loss of control, but not
fully, since she could uncuff her wrists whenever she wished.  Then she
read about having the key trapped in ice, making it unavailable until the
ice melted.  Even more loss of control!  Wonderful!  When she did this, she
truly became helpless -- stuck until she could get at the key.  Chilling
thoughts came into her mind.  "What if someone comes to my door?  What if
someone breaks in?" Her delightful fears made her focus on every noise
around her, and made her wonder what that sound meant.  This freed her from
her workplace cares for hours.

   One warm day Arin was naked, out in her yard, hands cuffed behind her,
waiting for the ice to melt.  She froze as she heard the sound of a truck
on the road, coming closer.  Her heart almost stopped when she heard the
crunch of tires on her gravel driveway, down by the street.  Arin was
desperately seeking cover, when a UPS truck came up her long driveway. 
She'd forgotten it was the expected date for the delivery of something
she'd ordered.  She dove behind a bush, praying the driver hadn't seen her.
Her heart was pounding so hard and fast that it sounded like a drum beat --
would the driver hear it, and investigate?

   Luckily, she didn't have to sign for the package.  She waited
breathlessly while he stood on her porch a minute or two, ringing the bell,
then left the package and drove off.  She was so excited that she got onto
her belly on the grass and humped it until she came.  That evening it took
a long tub soak, followed by a shower using a loofah, to scrub off the
grass stains from the front of her body.  Ironically, the package being
delivered was a complete set of steel body shackles, like those used for
the more violent prisoners.

   Those same shackles came into play on a day when Arin had an inspiration
of how to give up even more control.  During the morning, fully dressed,
she strolled down her driveway and placed the key to the shackle locks near
the base of her mailbox.  Returning to her house, she stripped bare and
locked herself into the shackles.  She was now stuck like that until it
could get dark enough for her to sneak to the mailbox.  She did the normal
things, like vacuuming, cooking, dishes and laundry, but the shackles made
her almost helpless and were very restricting, which constantly reminded
her of her loss of control.

   Finally, when she judged it was dark enough, she started the arduous
journey down the grass beside her driveway, since she didn't want to walk
on the gravel with bare feet.  The ankle chains prevented her from taking
normal strides, and they tended to snag on twigs and taller grass, almost
tripping her.  The air was cool, and Arin's nipples hardened like diamonds
in reaction.  She had to bend over to reach them with her chained hands to
give them a few pleasureful tweaks.

   But she couldn't dawdle, since every minute that passed increased her
chances of being discovered.  She couldn't believe how much traffic went
along her road.  Perhaps it was a normal amount, but now she was hyperaware
of their passing.  Car after car went by on the roadway, their headlights
flashing briefly across her lawn.  She crouched low every time she heard a
car coming, and hoped that the steel wouldn't glint in their lights and
attract attention.  It was scary and thrilling.

   Her fright skyrocketed when she started searching blindly around the
mailbox and didn't find the key right away!  Had she forgotten exactly
where she put it?  If a car came by now, its headlights would be on her
like a spotlight!  There was no place to hide, and she would surely be
discovered!  Thoughts flashed through her mind, powered by her fertile
imagination.  She imagined being spotted.  The driver stopping.  A man
getting out.  Seeing her chained and naked.  Gagging her and dragging her
into his car.  Taking her someplace, maybe deep in the woods, or maybe to
his home.  Using her sexually over and over.  Maybe inviting his buddies to
come and have her too.  She was almost fainting as these thoughts flooded
her mind.  But her body was reacting viscerally, with her pussy lips
puffing and her cunt lubricating.  As scary as that scenario was, it was
also obscenely arousing, since she'd have ceded all control to that
stranger!

   She had to find that key!  Taking a calming couple of breaths, she
mentally envisioned herself placing the key, noting its position relative
to the base of the mailbox.  Her hands slowly swept the grass there... 
and...  found the key!  Shaking with relief, Arin considered uncuffing
herself right there, and racing back into her house.  But now that she had
the key, she decided to retrace her shackled journey slowly back to the
house, enjoying the heady sensations that her fright had stirred up in her
depths.  When she was safely back in her house, and had removed the chains,
she took two dildos and used them to penetrate both her cunt and ass. 
Watching herself in a full length mirror, she fucked herself to one orgasm
after another, until she was exhausted.

   So Arin learned something new that night.  Being restrained was
exciting, but her arousal was multiplied immensely when risk was involved.
Risk added powerfully to her experiences, so she sought ways to add more
risks.

   For instance, she worked out a method with ropes attached to the bottom
feet of her bed.  Those ropes had loops that she could slip over her ankles
to hold her legs spreadeagled.  She could loop the chain between her
handcuffs through a hook on the bed's headboard, immobilizing herself
fairly well.  The handcuff key was held by an electromagnet over her head,
and the power to that magnet was on a timer.  She did keep a cell phone she
could reach for an emergency, but a rescuer would have to break down the
door, and would find her naked, bound like this.  As she laid there, awash
with excitement, she wondered, "Did I lock all the doors and windows?  What
if someone calls me, who knows I must be home?  What if someone comes to my
door?  What if I can't get the key, because I miss it when it drops?"

   The last fear proved prophetic.  The timer expired.  The key dropped. 
She missed it!  It bounced off her hand, and went just out of reach, even
with her sliding the handcuff chain as far as she could across the hook! 
Panicking, Arin squirmed on the bed.  She was panicked, yes, but also
unbelievably turned on.  Soon a stream of cunt juices weeping out of her
sex slit was puddled under her ass.  Would she really have to dial for
help?

   During her struggles, one of her ankle loops had slipped down her foot.
Wriggling her toes and foot, she managed to free that leg.  She used those
toes to push the ankle loop down and off her other foot.  With both legs
free, she bent herself, working her toes up near her hands.  Straining, and
after several attempts, she managed to bump the key within reach.  Sobbing
with relief, she undid the cuffs.  But with that relief came a powerful
need for sexual release.  Her hand went to her sopping, slobbering pussy,
and for the first time, Arin worked her entire fist into her cunt.  She
fisted herself, while using her other hand to pluck at her nipples and
clit. The resultant orgasm was magnificent, causing her to briefly lose
consciousness!  When she regained awareness, her fist was still wedged
inside her vaginal tunnel!

   Now Arin knew she craved not only restraints and risk -- she also craved
fucking and even physical chastisement.  Both of those elements would add
to the feelings of loss of control that she sought.  So she got more
creative with machines that incorporated timers and solenoids.  She bought
a fucking machine, which she could set to activate during the last 15
minutes of her 'captivity' on her bed.  This machine would ravish her
pussy, and it wouldn't stop, even if she was shrieking with multiple
orgasms, until its timer expired.  That was heavenly.

   Similarly, she bought a spanking machine, that had electrical solenoids
that controlled special, built-in handcuffs on a timer.  These handcuffs
immobilized her, face down, bent over a padded bench.  The other part of
the machine had digital timers that she set so that it paddled her rather
harshly for 10 minutes on her bare ass, after which it would stop, and
automatically send a signal to release the handcuffs as well.  But the
paddling didn't start immediately.  She could set another timer that would
choose a random time -- she set the parameters for at least 10 minutes but
no more than 25 minutes.  That random time made her wait, quivering, unsure
of when it would activate.  That period of anticipation was hellish.  Her
main thought was, "What would people think if they found me like this?" It
seemed to cause time to slow down, and let her wonder if she'd made a
mistake, doing this.  But as she tugged at the handcuffs while the machine
swatted her ass cheeks to cherry redness, she climaxed, feeling like a slut
undergoing a punishment that she richly deserved.

   These thrills acted like a drug to Arin.  She needed just a little more,
each time.  Since fear, added to restraints and risks, increased her
pleasure, she examined her fears.  She settled on the main one -- being
afraid to share her secret life with anyone.  Thus she started toying with
the idea of the ultimate risk in her self bondage ordeals...  discovery. 
How could she flirt with that danger?  She put her mind to the task,
looking at the devices she already had, how the timers and solenoids
worked, and so on.  She made a few more purchases, planning for her biggest
challenge yet.

   She ended up with an idea for a computer driven task.  She'd found a
game that presented you with random images that were cut up into squares
and scrambled.  A person clicks on two of the squares to swap their
positions.  When all the pieces were in their proper location, the puzzle
was solved.  Arin played the game many times, starting with 16 pieces (a 4
by 4 grid), then 25 (a 5 by 5 grid) and finally played it with 36 pieces,
noting carefully how long it usually took her to solve this most complex
version.  As she sat at her desk, playing this game, she practiced with a
trackball, because she knew that she wouldn't be able to use a regular
computer mouse for what she was planning.  The trackball turned out to be
very easy to use, rolling it with her thumb, and clicking with her index
finger.

   She had a lock box with a 4 digit combination lock that could be set
remotely via Bluetooth.  This sophisticated computer game could transmit a
random code to the lock, and, once its puzzle was solved, would then
display that code on the computer screen, allowing Arin to unlock and open
the box.  Of course, she planned to have the key to her cuffs in that box.
As an added failsafe, 10 minutes after that game was solved, or even showed
no user activity, it would automatically set the lock code to all zeroes,
and pop open the box.

   That completed the setup of the challenge.  Now to address the risk
factor.  Arin set up 3 high quality webcams near her bed.  One was attached
to the ceiling, looking straight down.  Another was next to the bed, giving
a side view.  Next to that camera was the computer screen.  At the foot of
the bed, she placed the fucking machine, with the third camera slightly
above it, looking down the rod that terminated in the phallic dildo at its
tip.  She added a bank of lights that pointed at one of her white bedroom
walls.  When those lights came on, the room lit up like a movie set.

   She took the concept of the solenoid driven cuffs and bolted two near
the bottom sides of her bed, placed so she could secure her ankles in them,
forcing her thighs to stay wide apart.  She attached her wireless trackball
to the bed's headboard, close to where her hands would be.  For her wrists,
she wasn't going to use standard handcuffs this time.  These cuffs were
independent of each other, locking onto a wrist, and each attached by a
cable to a wheel on either side of her bed up near the headboard.

   As a finishing touch, Arin programmed times into a master controller
which could handle the devices like the lights, webcams and the fucking
machine.  To give herself a safety margin, she programmed one of the master
controller timers with three whole minutes longer than her longest time
spent solving the puzzle.  She felt she was ready.  As she undressed to get
onto her bed, her heart was fluttering, and her breathing was shallow but
fast.  Her panties were completely soaked as she slipped them off.  She
knew what she was risking, and she'd never been so aroused in her life.

   Naked, she closed the cuffs at her ankles, securing them until either
she solved the puzzle, or the failsafe kicked in.  Resting on her back, she
closed the cuff on her left wrist, and then hesitated.  Currently, the
computer screen showed the word 'ABORT" in large red letters.  If Arin
clicked that now, before securing her right wrist, all locks would open and
the game wouldn't launch.  Once she closed the cuff on her right wrist, the
game would start, and there would be no turning back.

   Her heart was now pounding so fast and hard that her nipples were
visibly vibrating from its actions.  She was scared, but she'd also never
felt so alive.  She closed the right cuff.  The timers started, and the 36
piece scrambled image appeared.  She took a second to guess what the
unscrambled image probably looked like.  Her hand went to the trackball,
and started rolling it.  The cursor on the screen went awry.  "Oh my god!
What's going on?" Arin said aloud.  It took her precious minutes to realize
that the trackball, suspended above and behind her head was actually upside
down from the way it'd been on her desk.  Her instinctive hand motions kept
moving it the opposite direction from the way she'd intended!

   More precious minutes passed.  Arin was gradually compensating for the
inverted position, teaching herself how she now had to move her thumb, but
it was taking much longer than she'd planned.  Too long.  She was sweating
now, concentrating hard.  The puzzle was only about half solved when the
first 'warning' of sorts occurred.  The bank of lights brightened, lighting
up the room!  Arin groaned, realizing that she'd have to work faster.

   She had perhaps three fourths of the puzzle solved, when the fucking
machine sprang into life, activated, like the lights, by the timers in the
master controller.  Arin really began to panic now, as the fucking machine
dildo slid forward, stretching her pussy as it entered her, and then began
its relentless in and out strokes.  Arin knew she was almost out of time!
Being fucked vigorously was also threatening to break her concentration. 
She actually moved two correctly placed sections of the image out of
position, and had to quickly put them back.

   Finally, she only had the last two pieces to swap and the puzzle would
be solved.  She clicked on the first piece, when she heard a sound that
chilled her blood.  A motor activating.  The two wheels near the top of her
bed began rotating, reeling in the cables, and Arin's hand was dragged off
the trackball!  Sobbing with frustration, she felt her wrists dragged
sideways until she ended up spreadeagled, the dildo churning inside her
cunt.

   To her horror, Arin saw the indicator on one of the webcams light up! 
It was transmitting.  That meant that her pre-programmed Email was being
sent out.  That message went out to her relatives and friends, and it had
instructions for how to access her cameras.  She prayed that no one was at
their computer at that very moment.  Maybe no one would get the message
until it was too late.  Once the failsafe kicked in, Arin would be able to
free herself and turn off the power to the cameras.  She looked at the
computer screen, seeing the view from her webcams displayed there, slowly
cycling from one view to the next.  That same screen showed a visitor
counter, which still had a '0' glowing, indicating no one was looking at
her webcams yet.

   Arin struggled, trying desperately to get free, but it was hopeless. 
The stretched out position the cuffs held her in made it difficult to do
much more than writhe her torso, and the dildo reaming her cunt made even
movement at her pelvis difficult.  That's when the visitor counter silently
displayed a '1' -- someone was actively looking at her camera feed!  She
tried to avert her face, which was a waste of time, because, as an added
risk, she had her name and phone number scrolling continuously along the
bottom of the screen.  At her next quick glance, the counter displayed '2'
in glowing green.

   Knowing that two people were now looking at her, she whimpered, and
thrashed on the bed.  That may have been a bad idea, because the
contraction of her muscles caused her to experience a breathtaking orgasm.
The piston motion of the phallus pressed her glistening cum juices out to
gleam wetly on her thighs in a lewd display, caught perfectly by the camera
at the foot of the bed.

   Her eyes closed as she rode the wave of orgasm.  When she opened them
again, and refocused on the screen, she saw '10' on its display!  As she
watched, transfixed, that number rapidly climbed until it reached '47' and
paused there.  She certainly hadn't sent out that many messages!

   Thereafter, she watched the numbers climb rapidly, her mind reeling. 
She had to imagine that viewers were calling or texting their friends,
frantically telling them to go to her webcams.  Probably telling them that
they won't believe what a show this bitch is putting on, live, unless they
see for themselves.

   Caught up in the moment, Arin didn't realize it right then, but she was
experiencing what she sought the most -- complete loss of control.  The
restraints held her in their unrelenting grip.  The fucking machine reamed
her cunt ceaselessly.  The number of onlookers was climbing so fast that
she stopped looking at the dizzying update.  She'd lost control of who was
being allowed to learn her secret.  Of who was allowed to see her naked
body in the throes of orgasm.  Because as she started cumming again, she
looked at the computer screen and saw her cunt spewing, splashing her
nectar out onto the base of the plunging phallus.  The overhead view showed
her nude, spreadeagled body, with a spreading wet stain originating at her
crotch.  The side view showed her sweaty tits weaving and bouncing, surely
dragging some attention away from her cunt.

   Her breathing was getting ragged, as one climax was quickly followed by
another, since the fucking machine never paused, and her swollen clit was
being directly stimulated by contact with the raised fake blood vessels
decorating the sides of the phallus.  Arin surrendered.  Any struggles her
body was doing now were purely reflexive.  There was absolutely nothing she
could do but let go and experience her bodily sensations and her emotions.
She was not really thinking now.  She was a series of orgasms.

   When the master controller deemed time was up, the fucking machine
stopped and withdrew the phallus, leaving a gaping, raw looking red cunt
tunnel in view.  Arin's fully engorged clit was clearly visible until the
light bank dimmed, and the room returned to normal lighting levels.  The
cables at her wrist went slack, and the lock box popped open, the failsafe
having released the key.  The webcams went dark.  As Arin unlocked her
wrists, she glanced at the computer screen.  Stunned, she saw the number
'1834' as the final count of viewers!  She was wearily unlocking her
ankles, when her phone started to ring.