Chair Ties And Tortured Toes

The last time 1001011 and I played with rope was shortly before Halloween. The first idea we played with led to me turning into a coquettish, flying gourd, as I shared in The Great Pumpkin Rises. A couple of weeks ago, I shared the power of transitions in the post This Tie Is (Not) Over. This was the third tie of the evening, and an ad hoc idea that jumped out of Instagram at us as we ate cake and drank tea. In the post I hinted at another tie that I was holding back for the Sinful Sunday December prompt- Chair.

That idea that would become the chair tie also came from Instagram.

We’d had it in our mind for a while, just never quite got round to it. He thought it looked easy but I wasn’t convinced. In the inspiration image the model was in heels and tights, elegantly bound over a stool with white ropes. We thought adding ballet boots would be a winning idea, I planned to take my patent thigh-high boots with me. Best laid plans… A family trip meant I was woefully underprepared, realising my boots were in my wardrobe as I slung the rope bag over my shoulder (outside his house.)

Ah well. No matter. My boots weren’t the only thing missing. Instead of a hip height stool we’d be pulling up a wooden chair. And as it happened, he had a pair of calf length boots in his kinky kit, and… They fit my clown feet perfectly!

Still in my green tights and bodysuit, he secured me to the chair. Wrists together and tied to the seat. Heels of the boots tied in to the legs of the chair.

Knees, thighs, chest… One stuck barefoot.

It didn’t take long for me to start losing my composure. Had I been more organised and brought my boots then I’d have had more time. Or certainly less pressure on my knees. But as I shifted in the heels the pressure released from my resting place. Like having nipple clamps removed the sensation flooded back and I tensed. The tension flooded down my calves and into my toes.

I knew what was coming before it happened, tried to mitigate the problem with deep breathing and toe wiggling. What I’d forgotten is that toes can’t wiggle in ballet boots. Soon vicious cramp gnawed at the tendons in the soles of my feet. Not for the first time I needed rescuing, and fast.

If BDSM is a game, 1001011 won the chair round!

My humiliation was complete when he had to help manoeuvre around the chair. I collapsed onto the seat. Removed the tortuous footwear as quickly as physically possible, kneaded the soles of my feet to restore… comfort.

The resulting pictures from the tie were none too flattering. But I love to share real photos with all their odd shapes and bulges. I wonder if you’re feeling inspired to get tied to a chair? You can do it to yourself, or get a friend to do it. Or maybe you’ve got a willing bunny who would look incredible bound to a seat? Please do get in touch via the comments or contact form, let me know how you get on!