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No, I should not have kicked Dusty. That definitely has been a mistake. The pivotal one in a chain of mistakes that led up to my current predicament. Come to think of it, disaster usually rests on supposedly inconsequential events whose combined consequences one fails to anticipate. Sure enough, it had all started pretty normal – normal for me, that is, other people might beg to differ – with a weekend self-bondage session.

As numerous times before, I had stripped naked and taken a shower before laying out my collection of naughty toys on my prized, king-sized bed. Admittedly, it was too large for the limited space afforded by my penthouse apartment, but I loved to stretch out and roll around at night. Or during the day, on occasion. Like the present.

My posture collar, harness ball gag, handcuffs and legcuffs, two chains of different lengths, a bunch of padlocks, and of course my vibrator made the cut, the rest went back into my treasure chest. From the wardrobe, my latex opera gloves, ballet boots, and corset joined the party. Even though no lover was around to appreciate my transformation from an ordinary working girl to fetish princess, I liked to look the part.

It took me the better part of half an hour to put on my corset and the knee-length ballet boots and lace both of them tight. The boots left no doubt about their proud fetish heritage. They sported lockable straps at their tops which I dutifully secured with a pair of padlocks. Short of breath and hard-pressed to keep my restive libido on a short leash, I slid the vibrator into my pussy. I took a moment to enjoy the fullness down there (yay, that felt nice!) before I slung the longer chain around my compressed waist and fastened it with another padlock. The excess length I fashioned into a nice tight crotch strap. Running the chain through the loop at the vibrator’s exposed end ensured it would stay at its designated post. No joy to have it go AWOL in the heat of battle.

Spurred on by my mounting arousal, I jammed the 2.5-inch ball gag past my teeth. I ignored the spike of pain from my jaws and fastened the attached harness around my head, vigorously tightening and retightening each strap. By the time I was finally satisfied that I would not be able to work the gag out of my mouth no matter what, its straps dug painfully into the corners of my mouth. The posture collar made for an additional layer of security since it very effectively prevented me from tilting or turning my head. Sometimes I just can’t help myself.

Taking the shorter chain, I used a padlock to fasten one end to the links connecting my handcuffs. With another padlock, I attached its other end to the back ring of my collar, so the cuffs dangled at the small of my back. I swung my legs onto the bed and closed the legcuffs around my slender ankles. Even through the boots’ leather I felt the authoritative grip of the cool metal encircling my limbs and shuddered with delicious anticipation. I rolled onto my stomach and reaching back, snatched the connecting chain with the shackle of the last padlock. It was a strain, but on the third attempt, I managed to close the lock around a link in my crotch chain. My legs were now secured in a strict hogtie. Each attempt to straighten my legs yanked at the vibrator. Nice!

The bunch of keys for my restraints went into my time locked strongbox. Thirty minutes? Nah, make that forty. That would give me ample time to contemplate my folly after my horniness had been assuaged. Yet, experience suggested the uncomfortable wait for my release would not deter me from a reenactment in the future. Likely even near future. I pushed the closed box to the bed’s far side, out of the way, but easily accessible.

One after the other, I slipped my hands into the latex gloves and rolled their sleeves up my arms past the elbows. Besides looking great, they would protect my wrists from the cuffs’ harsh bite, at least a little. I rolled onto my side. Inserting a hand between my legs, I switched on the vibrator. Now I would have to hurry.

With the preparatory tasks completed, it was time to consummate my bondage. Back on my stomach again, I slipped my left hand into the cuff and ratcheted it closed. Tightly. Giving myself no time to reconsider the wisdom of my actions, I put my right wrist in the other cuff. With the back of my left hand, I pushed at the circlet. Click, click, click … I only relented when the metal clasped my right wrist in the same unyielding grip that trapped my left.

I briefly struggled against my bonds. There was no way to escape without the keys. The confirmation that my bondage was both final and absolute sent a jolt down my spine. Right into my pussy that now took center stage of my attention. With practiced ease, I slipped into my favorite fantasy. In my helpless state, I had no choice but to succumb to the sexual torture meted out by my unseen mistress.

Rolling around on the bed, yanking on the chains I worked myself up into a sexual frenzy. My restraints easily withstood my increasingly frantic struggles and held me secure in their tight embrace. The vibrator sent tremors into my molten core, priming me for an eruption. I moaned into my gag. I was close, so very close. For a moment I teetered on the brink, then the orgasm’s onslaught swept me over the cliff and buried me under an avalanche of pleasure.

When I registered my surroundings again, I was lying on my side. Utterly spent, sweaty, hair plastered to my brow, but contented. I glanced at the alarm clock. Twenty minutes still to go. For a little while, I kept basking in the orgasm’s afterglow but soon the discomfort of my situation began to preoccupy me.

There was a dull burning in my jaw muscles. From experience, I knew it would likely turn into a somewhat fierce ache before too long. That’s what you get for having a gag fetish. Apart from the disgusting drooling, of course. I really longed to stretch out my legs. I had recently pulled a muscle and was afraid my predicament might prompt it to act up again.

I stole another glance at the clock. Another fifteen minutes before I’d get my keys. I had known the wait would become aggravating. But I had no choice now – which was the whole point. The thought even had me juicing again. Besides, the vibrator was still lustily buzzing in my pussy … I was working towards a second orgasm when the strongbox suddenly beeped and its lid sprung open. Bother! Of course, the orgasm was lost now.

Forced by my posture collar to work by touch alone, I maneuvered around on the bed. My questing fingers encountered the box and retrieved its precious contents. Fumbling around the bunch of keys, I identified the one for the padlock that kept me hogtied. Yay!

On the seventh attempt, I finally managed to insert the key into the lock and turn it. The shackle sprung open, but the stupid thing snagged on the chain when I tried to straighten my legs. Getting aggravated, I repeated the attempt with more force. Big mistake! The lock suddenly came clear and launched across the room, taking the still attached bunch of keys with it. I heard it hit the far wall, then crash to the floor. Great! Now I would have to totter across the room to retrieve the keys. For the moment, however, I luxuriated in the pleasure of stretching out my legs again. Pure bliss!

I wormed my way to the side of the bed where I sat up with some difficulty, putting my feet on the ground – or, to be more precise, my toes, given the constraints imposed by my footwear. I bent my torso forward and looked around for the abducted keys. There! The lock with the keys had landed squarely in a recess on top of my robot vacuum that peacefully rested in its docking station.

With a sigh, I struggled to my feet and started teetering towards Dusty and the means for my release. It had taken a lot of practice, but by now I was able to walk in my boots. Admittedly, you needed to be in a generous mood to attach the term “walking” to my lurching gait. But hey, you should try it yourself before offhandedly dismissing my valiant efforts. Besides, my posture collar, tight corset, and the chain between my ankles all conspired to make matters even more challenging.

My inability to turn my head or look down meant that each time I needed to get my bearings, I had to stop and bend forward at the hip. Try that while balancing on toe boots! Preferably, while a vibrator pounds your pussy! Hence, it took me a whole minute before I finally was in striking distance to my goal. Of course, this was the exact moment when Dusty decided it had been idle long enough. It backed out of its station, elegantly turned around in front of me, and got busy vacuuming the apartment. Starting with the adjoining living room. You gotta be kidding me! Screaming expletives into my gag, I hobbled in hot pursuit.

My boots drummed a rapid beat on the parquet floor. By the time I reached the doorway, I was wheezing. The resistance of my corset made it hard to draw in the necessary oxygen. Stabilizing myself against the doorjamb, I assessed the tactical situation. The sofa, coffee table, and sideboard afforded my prey ample shelter. To my advantage, Dusty was constitutionally unable to simply lie low. Right now, it navigated the tricky terrain between the coffee table and TV stand.

If I managed to box it in there, I should be able to catch it. I pointed my feet towards the target area and launched myself from the doorjamb. Accompanied by the clinking of my hobble chain, I scurried across the room. With my gaze forcibly directed towards the ceiling, I had to rely on sound to home in on my prey. I strained to hear the soft noises of its gorging on dust bunnies over the racket made by the chain. There, now slightly to the left! I reckoned I was getting close and set out for the final spurt.

Ouch! If I had not been gagged, my scream would surely have brought my neighbors banging on my door. Spittle flew from my mouth as I bit into the orb filling my mouth. The flaring pain at my shin indicated that I had connected with the edge of the coffee table. Hard. When I finally got rid of my boots, I was sure to be greeted by some nice bruises. Tears leaked from my eyes. I had to blink them away before leaning forward to reorient myself. Dusty was not half a meter in front of me! And just vanishing under the sofa!

I screamed into my gag again, this time to vent my frustration. It wasn’t fair! For the next twenty minutes, I chased the little shit around the apartment. It ricocheted in a random pattern around the rooms, making it hard to anticipate its next move. A few times I thought I had it cornered, but the agile machine outmaneuvered me again and again. And again.

Meanwhile, the chase had circled back to the bedroom. Awkwardly bent forward to watch, I stood in front of the bed, ready to ambush Dusty when it emerged. In hindsight, I should simply have waited for it to return to its base. That would have been much smarter than shuffling around in my ballet boots like a drunken penguin, trying to anticipate its erratic turns. But no, I had been impatient, with my jaw muscles and feet aching more acutely by the minute. The pain was somewhat fierce now.

The whirring sound suddenly redoubled. Dusty had reappeared, trying to cross the room to my right. I moved to intercept but it sensed my approach and began evasive maneuvers. Yet this time I would not let it get away! When it turned left, I made a quick sideways step, snapping the chain between my ankles tight. Before I could recover my balance, it spun to the right again and tried to sneak past me. I hopped backward and brought my legs back together. Already Dusty had almost passed me! In a panic, I lashed out with my foot. With a satisfying thud, my boot connected with the casing. Dusty was thrown to the side. The jolt nearly dislodged the keys, but from the recess’ rim they slid back into its center when Dusty started to spin around its center axis.

Unfortunately, I did not emerge unscathed from the skirmish either. The kick had cost me my footing and my bondage left me no chance to regain my balance. Twisting in midair to land on my shoulder instead of my delicate nose, I crashed to the floor. Just in time to see Dusty recover from its spin and scoot right back under the bed where it hit the far wall full steam. Then, it just sat there, some red LED blinking accusatory on its casing. Maybe my kick had yanked some sensor out of alignment or the spiteful shit just wanted to pay me back for its abuse, but at its current location, it was completely out of reach. Shit!