Heavy fullweight facesitting (SSBBW)

Diane had always believed that she was just like the other seven billion people living on Earth. She was 29, married with no kids. At a local grocery store around the corner called Dollarhut, she worked a normal 5-day week pattern restocking fresh food cans, with some flexibility allowed to her during work hours. Earl, her husband, was in the mining industry. He worked after a fashion that Diane thought was particularly different from all the other mine workers in this region. For starters, Agate Enrichment LLC, his workplace, was about 200 miles away from home. And so, more often than not, Earl was obligated to remain on-site for an extended period of 8 to 10 days, and then come home to Diane, where he was then permitted to remain with his wife for about 3 to 4 days. It wasn’t, in the least, an ideal situation, but the income was significantly more than either of them could have hoped for.

Super-Sized Big, Beautiful Woman

What this meant for Diane was that she had more free time to herself at home than she knew what to do with. It also meant that she must become self-reliant, as there was no one else around to fix the sink when it got stuck, or the regulator when it got broken. All that, and many more, Diane did eventually learn to do on her own. And whatever she couldn’t do, she learned to turn to the internet; that all-encompassing tool for finding nearly any and everything you could ever wish to find.

It was on there that she stumbled upon an ad for erectile dysfunction pills, and from there, she landed on a site that allowed its users to share their different explicit life experiences that they wouldn’t normally share with anyone else. It was there, in that safe space of anonymity, did she come to find out about bondage eroticism—more specifically, self-bondage eroticism.

Facesitting by SSBBW

Diane was immediately intrigued. She knew about porn, had even seen a few, and gotten herself off on them once or twice, but this was quite different. Different in a way that even she couldn’t explain. There was something exceptionally thrilling about it, something risky, something. . . sort of out of her direct control. Shortly thereafter, on one lazy Sunday afternoon, she found herself reading into the act, researching, and watching countless videos across various adult sites on the internet.

“What I’m looking for. . .” she muttered to herself inside the privacy of her living room, her fingers working absentmindedly between her legs, “what I am looking for is something relatively simple.”

She wanted something that did not require a degree in tying knots; something that did not require those over-the-top contraptions one could find in, say, a sex dungeon, for instance. What she found two hours later seemed the perfect compromise, with simple equipment that were easily available from even hardware stores, as she continued to frown at the idea of visiting Café Kinky, the adult store a couple of blocks down the street. No one had to know about her newly discovered kink just yet, not even Earl.

Diane set about putting her self-bondage fantasy into reality the following weekend. Earl had left just three days passed, and she would have the house to herself until the end of the month, at the very least.

In her mind’s eye, her plan went like this: she’d put herself in a position where she would be exposed, or partially exposed to whoever was lucky enough to ‘witness’ her in the act. She’d be in that position for a lengthy period of time, unable to conceal herself, nor avoid the situation altogether.

‘But where about this big, empty house offers a good view inside from the outside?’

The more she thought about it, the more the doorway leading directly onto the front porch and the yard beyond, seemed like the most viable option. Any random passer-by might chance to see her, ogle her even, or maybe even dare come into the house in a show of good faith. She would, after all, be secured hand and foot, helpless just after some domestic household accident had caught her off guard. There was also the risk factor involved; if found in such a dire situation, there was the potential of being humiliated, raped, assaulted. For all she knew, it could be that she may just have to suffer all three acts from one assailant, or more.

The plan took time to work out. First, she inspected the doorway leading into the house. The door itself was made from timber wood, easy to work with. On the top of the doorframe were eyebolts fitted to hold either a curtain or fly screen—which was the case now—though, they were too high for her to reach easily. However, with two short lengths of chain and a few other fittings, she could just about bring them to a height she could attach the wrist cuffs. She could easily fit another two eyebolts through the lower part of the frame that would secure her ankles.

After doing all her shopping that afternoon, Diane went to work. With the fixture points in place, it was now time to work out how to attach herself to those points and more importantly how to get out of them if the situation called for it. Luckily, the internet did offer a lot of help with that bit of trouble. It took about a minute and a half to fasten her ankles to the fixture points. Next was her left wrist, which took nearly half a minute.

She was wearing one of Earl’s white button-down shirts she’d picked out that morning and black lace panties underneath; hardly the demure girl look, but Diane supposed it was the most casual attire for a bored, 29-year-old housewife on a slow-going Sunday afternoon.

She did not have to wait too long before her first spectator later that afternoon. It was her older neighbor, Jerome, who lived across the street. He was mowing his front lawn when Diane caught him ogling in her direction through the semi-translucent fly screen. She wasn’t sure if he’d actually seen her; seen what she was doing, but by then, she had already begun to panic. Her heart was beating hard against her ribcage as she fumbled to undo the cuff on her left wrist. But before she could manage to do so, the small key slipped miserably from her trembling fingers to fall to the floor with a-not-so-audible clink.

“No, no, no. . .” she lamented, realizing now that she was well and truly stuck.

She looked up again to see Jerome. . . waving. He was waving at her. And if she did not wave back, he might think to come over. She had to get out, and fast, or this was more than likely to turn into an awkward situation. But wasn’t this exactly what she wanted? Well, it was, she supposed, though she had been expecting some random passer-by all along. Jerome was bad news; Jerome would confine in Earl, and Earl must never find out.

‘He might,’ she thought, ‘he will if I don’t get out of here soon.’

But how could she get out? Three of her limbs had been restricted, the key to their cuffs off somewhere behind her. In fact, the truth was: there was no getting out.

Jerome finished mowing his lawn ten minutes later, sparing a few apprehensive glances over at Diane every now and then. He must have found the situation completely unorthodox; him mowing his front lawn like any other person, and her, skimpily dressed, watching him in solemn silence. Fleetingly, Diane wondered what must be going through his head at that instant. He put the mower in the shed and crossed the lonely street, a placid expression on his face.

“Hey D,” Jerome said when he reached the porch, “what’s up?”

“Oh, nothing,” Diane laughed nervously. “I’m just. . .” She trailed off, not knowing exactly how to explain the situation.

“You gonna invite me in?”

“Invite you in? Yeah, sure. Of course.”

A few seconds of silence greeted them momentarily, lingering until Jerome asked, “Is everything okay?”

“Um. . . I’m not sure. I’m kinda stuck,” Diane admitted. “Could you. . . Could you help me out?”

Jerome snickered; a knowing laugh that said he knew just what the situation was. “Are you stuck?”

“Yes, I just said that. Come on, get in here.”

Squeezing past Diane and the doorframe, Jerome let himself in. “You got the keys to those cuffs?”

“Yeah. It’s somewhere behind me, I think.”

There was yet another few moments of silence, this one lasting for more than Diane was comfortable with. She was just about to break it when she felt Jerome pressed up behind her, his suddenly stiffening prick prodding at the ample cheeks of her ass.

“Um. . . what are you doing?”

“Shh,” he hushed, his warm breath washing over the hollow of her neck. “Now, what is a pretty lil’ thing like yourself doing all cuffed up like that?”