15 Apr 2024, 05:57
For a woman, the fear of a sexual slip-up or even more, puts the brakes on encounters and adventures. So I've turned to self-bondage, which allows me to experience moments of BDSM. No one knows that I practise self-bondage or self-servitude because, like many people, I'd be too ashamed for anyone to know and I'd look like a madwoman.
As I live in a flat in the centre of Paris, I don't have a garden and it's too risky to hide keys somewhere and go looking for them at night. Despite everything, I have a bit of an adventurous side. For over a year, I've been closely following the development of the Gîte des Fetichistes, and the stories published about people who go there on holiday and practise safe self-bondage make me dream. So I ended up contacting them.
Just imagine my fears:
A woman going abroad on her own to do some self-surveying, with strangers who would act as her confidants! In other words, people who could just as easily take advantage of the situation instead of rescuing me! ! !
You read so many stories in the press about missing women that it doesn't help you to dare. After X number of exchanges, we had built up a relationship of trust with the boss of the fetishists' gîte. So I ended up revealing myself a little. Marc was the only person I spoke to about it once, when I spoke to him on the phone. To reassure me, he even put me through to his wife, who confirmed that they weren't libertines, that I wasn't at risk of being sexually assaulted and that they knew how to be discreet.
To finish reassuring me, he reminded me that I would have an address, that I would have paid for the rental by bank transfer and that I had their telephone number. Added to this were the emails we exchanged, allowing me to make a traceability record of my kitchen table, should I disappear. Following his promises to do nothing but keep me safe, I ended up booking for a week. As I was stopping off at my sister's in Bordeaux, I went by car. Kamikaze girl.
When I arrived, I wasn't at ease at all, I even nearly turned back. But my fears didn't last. In fact, the smile and the warm welcome allowed my heart to start beating normally again. After helping me drop off my things at the gîte, Marc offered to show me around. Be careful if you go there, this guy is a fantasy stirrer full of bad ideas. Whether it's in their dungeon, in their park, in the orchard or even on the private fitness trail, if he's aware of your fantasies, he'll feed them so much during this visit that things will happen in your knickers!
- Security is very simple. You need to let us know that you're going to be doing some self-bondage and give us a time frame such as "if you don't see me tonight", come and rescue me. Even so, if we don't see you all day, we'll make a stop at the dungeon and your gîte. Rest assured, we are respectful and will knock on the door before entering. If we don't get an answer, and we have the spare keys, we'll go in. If we have to rescue you, you'll owe us a coffee or a coke - that's the going rate. After that, if you need any equipment, all you have to do is help yourself at the dungeon or ask without blushing or being afraid of being judged, the reason we have all this equipment is because we use it too.
When the visit was over, I didn't know where to start. And when I don't know, or when I'm not feeling well, I tidy up or clean up. Never before my visit to the B&B had my belongings been so tidy when I travelled or stayed in a hotel. So I ended up going to the dungeon. The gag is that my fantasies were against all logic and the opposite of my fears!
Lying on the bed in the Love room, I spread my arms and legs to tie them in an X shape except for my right hand, which was simply holding one of the bondage bracelets. And then I imagined that I was trapped and that they were taking advantage of me. Illogical! The same goes for the St Andrew's cross and the spanking bench. It was only on the sling that I took off my knickers before ... I did two rounds, the second time I was completely naked with clamps on my breasts.
The dungeon strings for self-bondage
Marc had shown them to me, saying that if I handcuffed myself, I could attach the handcuff keys to different strings. Some of them are several metres long, so it can take a while to free myself. So I was sitting alone in the dungeon bar drinking a Coke, when I was joined by my friend 'Madame Fantasme', who is sometimes a very bad counsellor. I ended up setting up the equipment I needed to do a self-bondage.
Oh nothing complicated. Just lying cross-legged on the bed with their Magic Wand Massager in my knickers. The long string was attached to the chain with the handcuffs that don't open without a key, so at the other end were the keys. So when I'd had enough, all I had to do was pull the string to get the keys and free myself. So everything was ready for my wild bachelor night.
Just as I'd gone back to my gîte to get ready for dinner, Marc came knocking on my door so that we could do the paperwork and offer me a welcome drink. That's where I met Malicia, a lovely, super-friendly woman. Once the paperwork was done, the aperitif lasted and the first mishap occurred. Marc, who is a pianist and singer, decided to get me to sing (singing for real LOL). He was very nice to me and never grumbled, even though he took the risk of triggering a hurricane and torrential flooding.
It wasn't until around 9pm that I was "released" by this monster of kindness. After a snack, I went to the dungeon for my self-bondage scenario in the Love room. Everything went well, I just got a few marks on my wrists when I piled on the orgasms before their Magic Wand Massager went haywire and was no longer in the right place. Pulling the long string to retrieve the keys was my first trap of the holiday. In fact, it slipped out of my fingers when, as I moved, the Magic came back to my clit. This started to irritate her (literally) and freeing myself became an emergency.
Exhausted but delighted, I returned to my gîte without panties under my summer dress, before throwing myself into the king-size bed. Suffice to say, I had plenty of room to sleep.
The trap of self-bondage on the fitness trail
The next day, as I was having my coffee on the covered terrace, Marc spotted me coming back from his vegetable garden. He came over to say hello and ask if I needed anything. A conversation ensued and I learnt that if I wanted to play outside, the weather forecast was for rain the next day. Curious as a horny speculum, I asked him if he had any kinky ideas (which he didn't, as he had lots of very twisted ones).
He suggested an Espace Game, translation, to go and hide the keys before giving me a sort of treasure hunt, free for me to do it with or without a sextoy or naked and then to choose the constraints. And all this was explained to me as casually as if he were talking to me about making music. I didn't dare, so I asked him if he had anything softer. That's when he advised me to do a self-bondage on the fitness trail. "You can do it sitting on one of the apparatus or standing. Standing is better if there are insects," he added. If you're naked or shirtless, you might enjoy the breeze caressing your chest. In that case, take the long string to tie the handcuff keys or make yourself an Ice-Timer.
And like a gourd, I replied: "Yes, I can see which one" before starting to blush. Seeing my discomfited expression, he laughed and explained to me that the reason they had created the fetish bed and breakfast was so that people could come and have fun, and that I shouldn't be ashamed of taking pleasure. He left, wishing me a pleasant day and "good game" with a knowing wink.
After a dip in the pool, where I was completely naked and stroking myself a bit, I did the plank with the help of the chips, so I decided to do a little self-bondage scenario in the fresh air. Nobody saw me leave the dungeon like a thief, with everything I needed for my plan. To make things easier, I'd brought my rucksack in which I'd taken my little battery-operated magic. It was at the Jesus cross, which is also used for stretching, that I decided to stand up.
As I hadn't had time to make myself an Ice-Timer, I used the same long string as the day before. So I strapped my legs against the vertical beam, placed my little magic in my 'lolotte', put on the dog-tail rosebud, put clamps on my poor nipples, put on the open gag I'd found in the dungeon before throwing the keys away from me, then handcuffing myself behind my back. The infamous and detestable string that was supposed to allow me to retrieve the key was obviously connected to my handcuffs.
The open gag is very effective, you can breathe but it's impossible to cheat and remove it. This is an important detail, as you will see. It was around ten o'clock when I threw away the string with the key to the handcuffs. While I did enjoy the breeze on my bare breasts, one of the clamps on my nipples moved due to perspiration and started to hurt. With the help of excitement and magic, I was able to have an orgasm, which was good, but not the rest!
I won't deny that after you've come, some things are less pleasant. So I decided to pull on the string to get the key and free myself from the breast clamps. That's when it turned into a trap. The grass blocked it and when I pulled, my knot was no good and the famous string containing lots of keys came loose, depriving me of my way out. I was trapped!
I started by hating the breast clamp that had slipped off. Next came the gag, which I couldn't spit out and was starting to hurt my jaw. The batteries in my Magic gave up the ghost, but I didn't care about that, I wasn't in the mood to play or enjoy myself. The bloody handcuffs were solid and withstood my desperate pulls. The sun was starting to beat down hard, too hard for sensitive skin. And to top it all off, I was starting to feel the need to piss.
Crying out for help? Apart from going AAAAAA there was nothing else I could do, knowing that as there was no one around for miles and Marc or Malicia were at home, I was doomed to be tied up for hours and burn to a crisp. I pissed my pants in rage.
Towards very late (the Spanish eat late) I spotted Marc coming to pick tomatoes from his garden. My AAA or my desperate movements caught his attention. So as not to embarrass me, he moved a little closer. I struggled like a madwoman until the rebel breast clamp fell off. My A wasn't a cry for help, it was a cry of pain. My saviour 'finally' suspected that I had a problem. He came closer and asked me if I needed help. My head began to look at the sky and the ground at breakneck speed. Forgetting to be discreet (thank you), he arrived at full speed. Seeing my discomfited face and the colour of the skin on my shoulders, he understood.
It only took him a few seconds to grab the keys and open the bloody handcuffs, then see the bitch's tail sticking out of my still-wet panties, then open the strap while holding on to me for fear I'd fall out. I was ashamed to death, but needless to say I appreciated his help. So I took off my second booby clip in front of him, and he collected my things and put them in my rucksack before walking the cripple back to her lodgings. After making me drink a glass of water, he advised me to take a shower before going to find Malicia who would come and give me a sunburn cream.
When she entered the gîte, which was still open, she said "Ah yes" when she saw the state of my shoulders and back. Suffice to say that the guest at the gîte was 'well done'. I didn't play at all for the rest of the day, I had to sleep on the sale even though she came back in the evening to give me some cream for the burns. The next day, I found the seat in my car very uncomfortable when I went to visit Zaragoza, a wonderful city.
The rest of the week was quieter, I rested, did a bit of sightseeing and Marc took me on a little 4x4 and bike ride. It wasn't until Friday that I did his Espace game, which still took me 2 hours, but with some great games in the shade at the end of the day.
Wanting to make the most of my stay, I dared to ask Malicia if I could try out their spanking machine. She warned me not to use it at the same time as the Magic wand Massager, as it would be too much fun. It was Marc who came to install it and explain how it worked. Except that I didn't listen to Malicia's advice when I was lying on the bed in the Love bedroom, playing with my clit and the Magic Wand Massager while the spanking machine tanned my bottom. Big mistake, though?
It was a big mistake in terms of the state of my buttocks, which I literally exploded, but it was a big mistake because I was piling on the pleasure. The advantage of this spanking/pleasure plan was that the next day, on the road, I was in no danger of falling asleep, every bump and speed bump almost making me jump on my seat.
End
Marc and Malicia really do exist, as does the gîte fétichiste which you can visit here on Youtube
Fetish house
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUPL5GF...HEKdfylcXw
Your naughty holidays
https://gitefetichistes.com/
[video=youtube]
Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oovocxnx6yg
[/video]
As I live in a flat in the centre of Paris, I don't have a garden and it's too risky to hide keys somewhere and go looking for them at night. Despite everything, I have a bit of an adventurous side. For over a year, I've been closely following the development of the Gîte des Fetichistes, and the stories published about people who go there on holiday and practise safe self-bondage make me dream. So I ended up contacting them.
Just imagine my fears:
A woman going abroad on her own to do some self-surveying, with strangers who would act as her confidants! In other words, people who could just as easily take advantage of the situation instead of rescuing me! ! !
You read so many stories in the press about missing women that it doesn't help you to dare. After X number of exchanges, we had built up a relationship of trust with the boss of the fetishists' gîte. So I ended up revealing myself a little. Marc was the only person I spoke to about it once, when I spoke to him on the phone. To reassure me, he even put me through to his wife, who confirmed that they weren't libertines, that I wasn't at risk of being sexually assaulted and that they knew how to be discreet.
To finish reassuring me, he reminded me that I would have an address, that I would have paid for the rental by bank transfer and that I had their telephone number. Added to this were the emails we exchanged, allowing me to make a traceability record of my kitchen table, should I disappear. Following his promises to do nothing but keep me safe, I ended up booking for a week. As I was stopping off at my sister's in Bordeaux, I went by car. Kamikaze girl.
When I arrived, I wasn't at ease at all, I even nearly turned back. But my fears didn't last. In fact, the smile and the warm welcome allowed my heart to start beating normally again. After helping me drop off my things at the gîte, Marc offered to show me around. Be careful if you go there, this guy is a fantasy stirrer full of bad ideas. Whether it's in their dungeon, in their park, in the orchard or even on the private fitness trail, if he's aware of your fantasies, he'll feed them so much during this visit that things will happen in your knickers!
- Security is very simple. You need to let us know that you're going to be doing some self-bondage and give us a time frame such as "if you don't see me tonight", come and rescue me. Even so, if we don't see you all day, we'll make a stop at the dungeon and your gîte. Rest assured, we are respectful and will knock on the door before entering. If we don't get an answer, and we have the spare keys, we'll go in. If we have to rescue you, you'll owe us a coffee or a coke - that's the going rate. After that, if you need any equipment, all you have to do is help yourself at the dungeon or ask without blushing or being afraid of being judged, the reason we have all this equipment is because we use it too.
When the visit was over, I didn't know where to start. And when I don't know, or when I'm not feeling well, I tidy up or clean up. Never before my visit to the B&B had my belongings been so tidy when I travelled or stayed in a hotel. So I ended up going to the dungeon. The gag is that my fantasies were against all logic and the opposite of my fears!
Lying on the bed in the Love room, I spread my arms and legs to tie them in an X shape except for my right hand, which was simply holding one of the bondage bracelets. And then I imagined that I was trapped and that they were taking advantage of me. Illogical! The same goes for the St Andrew's cross and the spanking bench. It was only on the sling that I took off my knickers before ... I did two rounds, the second time I was completely naked with clamps on my breasts.
The dungeon strings for self-bondage
Marc had shown them to me, saying that if I handcuffed myself, I could attach the handcuff keys to different strings. Some of them are several metres long, so it can take a while to free myself. So I was sitting alone in the dungeon bar drinking a Coke, when I was joined by my friend 'Madame Fantasme', who is sometimes a very bad counsellor. I ended up setting up the equipment I needed to do a self-bondage.
Oh nothing complicated. Just lying cross-legged on the bed with their Magic Wand Massager in my knickers. The long string was attached to the chain with the handcuffs that don't open without a key, so at the other end were the keys. So when I'd had enough, all I had to do was pull the string to get the keys and free myself. So everything was ready for my wild bachelor night.
Just as I'd gone back to my gîte to get ready for dinner, Marc came knocking on my door so that we could do the paperwork and offer me a welcome drink. That's where I met Malicia, a lovely, super-friendly woman. Once the paperwork was done, the aperitif lasted and the first mishap occurred. Marc, who is a pianist and singer, decided to get me to sing (singing for real LOL). He was very nice to me and never grumbled, even though he took the risk of triggering a hurricane and torrential flooding.
It wasn't until around 9pm that I was "released" by this monster of kindness. After a snack, I went to the dungeon for my self-bondage scenario in the Love room. Everything went well, I just got a few marks on my wrists when I piled on the orgasms before their Magic Wand Massager went haywire and was no longer in the right place. Pulling the long string to retrieve the keys was my first trap of the holiday. In fact, it slipped out of my fingers when, as I moved, the Magic came back to my clit. This started to irritate her (literally) and freeing myself became an emergency.
Exhausted but delighted, I returned to my gîte without panties under my summer dress, before throwing myself into the king-size bed. Suffice to say, I had plenty of room to sleep.
The trap of self-bondage on the fitness trail
The next day, as I was having my coffee on the covered terrace, Marc spotted me coming back from his vegetable garden. He came over to say hello and ask if I needed anything. A conversation ensued and I learnt that if I wanted to play outside, the weather forecast was for rain the next day. Curious as a horny speculum, I asked him if he had any kinky ideas (which he didn't, as he had lots of very twisted ones).
He suggested an Espace Game, translation, to go and hide the keys before giving me a sort of treasure hunt, free for me to do it with or without a sextoy or naked and then to choose the constraints. And all this was explained to me as casually as if he were talking to me about making music. I didn't dare, so I asked him if he had anything softer. That's when he advised me to do a self-bondage on the fitness trail. "You can do it sitting on one of the apparatus or standing. Standing is better if there are insects," he added. If you're naked or shirtless, you might enjoy the breeze caressing your chest. In that case, take the long string to tie the handcuff keys or make yourself an Ice-Timer.
And like a gourd, I replied: "Yes, I can see which one" before starting to blush. Seeing my discomfited expression, he laughed and explained to me that the reason they had created the fetish bed and breakfast was so that people could come and have fun, and that I shouldn't be ashamed of taking pleasure. He left, wishing me a pleasant day and "good game" with a knowing wink.
After a dip in the pool, where I was completely naked and stroking myself a bit, I did the plank with the help of the chips, so I decided to do a little self-bondage scenario in the fresh air. Nobody saw me leave the dungeon like a thief, with everything I needed for my plan. To make things easier, I'd brought my rucksack in which I'd taken my little battery-operated magic. It was at the Jesus cross, which is also used for stretching, that I decided to stand up.
As I hadn't had time to make myself an Ice-Timer, I used the same long string as the day before. So I strapped my legs against the vertical beam, placed my little magic in my 'lolotte', put on the dog-tail rosebud, put clamps on my poor nipples, put on the open gag I'd found in the dungeon before throwing the keys away from me, then handcuffing myself behind my back. The infamous and detestable string that was supposed to allow me to retrieve the key was obviously connected to my handcuffs.
The open gag is very effective, you can breathe but it's impossible to cheat and remove it. This is an important detail, as you will see. It was around ten o'clock when I threw away the string with the key to the handcuffs. While I did enjoy the breeze on my bare breasts, one of the clamps on my nipples moved due to perspiration and started to hurt. With the help of excitement and magic, I was able to have an orgasm, which was good, but not the rest!
I won't deny that after you've come, some things are less pleasant. So I decided to pull on the string to get the key and free myself from the breast clamps. That's when it turned into a trap. The grass blocked it and when I pulled, my knot was no good and the famous string containing lots of keys came loose, depriving me of my way out. I was trapped!
I started by hating the breast clamp that had slipped off. Next came the gag, which I couldn't spit out and was starting to hurt my jaw. The batteries in my Magic gave up the ghost, but I didn't care about that, I wasn't in the mood to play or enjoy myself. The bloody handcuffs were solid and withstood my desperate pulls. The sun was starting to beat down hard, too hard for sensitive skin. And to top it all off, I was starting to feel the need to piss.
Crying out for help? Apart from going AAAAAA there was nothing else I could do, knowing that as there was no one around for miles and Marc or Malicia were at home, I was doomed to be tied up for hours and burn to a crisp. I pissed my pants in rage.
Towards very late (the Spanish eat late) I spotted Marc coming to pick tomatoes from his garden. My AAA or my desperate movements caught his attention. So as not to embarrass me, he moved a little closer. I struggled like a madwoman until the rebel breast clamp fell off. My A wasn't a cry for help, it was a cry of pain. My saviour 'finally' suspected that I had a problem. He came closer and asked me if I needed help. My head began to look at the sky and the ground at breakneck speed. Forgetting to be discreet (thank you), he arrived at full speed. Seeing my discomfited face and the colour of the skin on my shoulders, he understood.
It only took him a few seconds to grab the keys and open the bloody handcuffs, then see the bitch's tail sticking out of my still-wet panties, then open the strap while holding on to me for fear I'd fall out. I was ashamed to death, but needless to say I appreciated his help. So I took off my second booby clip in front of him, and he collected my things and put them in my rucksack before walking the cripple back to her lodgings. After making me drink a glass of water, he advised me to take a shower before going to find Malicia who would come and give me a sunburn cream.
When she entered the gîte, which was still open, she said "Ah yes" when she saw the state of my shoulders and back. Suffice to say that the guest at the gîte was 'well done'. I didn't play at all for the rest of the day, I had to sleep on the sale even though she came back in the evening to give me some cream for the burns. The next day, I found the seat in my car very uncomfortable when I went to visit Zaragoza, a wonderful city.
The rest of the week was quieter, I rested, did a bit of sightseeing and Marc took me on a little 4x4 and bike ride. It wasn't until Friday that I did his Espace game, which still took me 2 hours, but with some great games in the shade at the end of the day.
Wanting to make the most of my stay, I dared to ask Malicia if I could try out their spanking machine. She warned me not to use it at the same time as the Magic wand Massager, as it would be too much fun. It was Marc who came to install it and explain how it worked. Except that I didn't listen to Malicia's advice when I was lying on the bed in the Love bedroom, playing with my clit and the Magic Wand Massager while the spanking machine tanned my bottom. Big mistake, though?
It was a big mistake in terms of the state of my buttocks, which I literally exploded, but it was a big mistake because I was piling on the pleasure. The advantage of this spanking/pleasure plan was that the next day, on the road, I was in no danger of falling asleep, every bump and speed bump almost making me jump on my seat.
End
Marc and Malicia really do exist, as does the gîte fétichiste which you can visit here on Youtube
Fetish house
https://www.youtube.com/channel/UCUPL5GF...HEKdfylcXw
Your naughty holidays
https://gitefetichistes.com/
[video=youtube]
Source: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Oovocxnx6yg
[/video]