{"loaderData":{"4":{"story":{"id":"b49baee2-7816-4a3c-9a2b-428e388923f5","seriesId":null,"seriesName":null,"currentUserId":"00000000-0000-0000-0000-000000000000","added":"2026-02-08T16:56:55.071Z","title":"Self-Bondage Soiree","slug":"self-bondage-soiree","shortId":"rj5UIQ2a","authorNote":"I wrote this story for day 13 of Kinktober 2025. It contains bondage, cross-dressing and peril. Reader discretion is advised. Please prioritise safety when practising bondage, and particularly self-bondage.","disclaimer":null,"type":"Short","paidUrl":null,"synopsis":"All he ever wanted was to be bound and gagged and dressed up as a kinky maid. But you should be careful what you wish for.","partCount":1,"parts":[{"partId":"1bcae8bb-83b8-4628-9a1c-2d3c8f0fb2b2","title":null,"summary":"The package was waiting on Mr Grace's desk when he got back from the big meeting. He always had pack","wordCount":1251,"readTime":6,"number":1,"state":"Published"}],"currentPart":1,"contentTitle":"Chapter 1","content":"

The package was waiting on Mr Grace's desk when he got back from the big meeting. He always had packages delivered to the office. Partly because he fretted about Mrs Grace opening them by accident, and partly because he liked to daydream about his secretary opening them by accident. How deliciously humiliating that would be!

Mr Grace definitely had a fetish for humiliation... among other things. But at his stage of life, and with his marriage and professional reputation to consider, he had sadly concluded that the sort of humiliation he fantasised about - extreme, demeaning, and very public - simply wasn't practical. He had no friends in the kink scene, was afraid of escorts, and didn't dare visit a \"munch\", whatever they were. So there was really only one solution.

He tore open the padded envelope very carefully, and peeked inside. There it was, wrapped neatly in a clear plastic bag. Why had he looked? He couldn't try it on until he got home. But there was a pleasant squirmy quality to the rest of the day. He got almost nothing done, unable to think about anything else.

Eventually it got to five o'clock, and he could rush home with his treasure. In through the door, up the stairs, and into the master bedroom he shared with Mrs Grace. She wasn't in tonight, mercifully. Out for dinner with friends; wouldn't be back until after eleven. The evening stretched out gloriously ahead of him.

He changed out of his suit, fumbling nervously in his haste, and took off his shirt and socks. Standing in his underwear in front of the full-length mirror, he tried to be objective about what he saw. He wasn't in bad shape for his age, not really, and he still had his hair. It wasn't completely impossible to imagine himself as an object of desire. But it didn't hurt to have a little help.

The package contained a kinky maid's dress, in the correct size for a tall man. Not all that hard to get hold of, it turned out. He squeezed into the black satin, which ended at mid-thigh, and played for a moment with the white frilly details around the padded bust. There were separate white frilly cuffs, too, and a white frilly headpiece to clip over his hair. Maybe a wig next time, he thought.

Next: stockings and suspenders. These took a while: very fiddly. Shiny black high heels. And the finishing touch: a white frilly apron, tied around his waist.

Mr Grace turned around slowly, gazing at his reflection. The transformation was stunning. But it was not quite complete.

The funny thing about self-bondage is that it's very easy until suddenly it's very hard. Mr Grace sat down on the bed and began to tie his legs together using red cotton rope. Looped and cinched and knotted at the ankle, then at the calf, then at the knee, and finally at the thigh. It was just like tying someone else. No problem at all.

The gag was fairly easy too. A red ballgag, smaller than he would have liked to use but quite big enough to be uncomfortable after a while. He pushed it past his teeth and buckled the strap behind his head. No more talking for this damsel, he thought to himself.

But now it started to get more complicated. He wanted a chest harness, but that would make it harder to use his arms for everything else. So instead he tied a short length of rope around the ankle binding, with a lasso knot in the free end. He was very proud of this idea: it would serve as both wrist binding and hogtie. Precisely the sort of lateral thinking you needed to self-tie effectively.

Now he could slowly loop rope around his chest, above and below the impressive bust, and knot it carefully in front. Then rotate the rope until the knots were hidden behind his back. More secure, and a better look. Definitely worth the extra effort.

One last glance in the mirror, at the now mostly bound maid he had become. And then it was time to take the leap.

He lay face-down on the bed, making sure he could see himself clearly in the mirror. Then he folded his legs and put his hands behind his back so they were brushing against the stiletto heels. A deep breath - then with a stretch he managed to fit his wrists through the lasso knot, before pulling back so the knot tightened and he was \"caught\".

At first, he just explored the physical sensations, deliberately putting off the pleasure of seeing himself like this. The bite of the rope around his wrists - that had worked well. The drool gathering around his mouth. The awkward, vulnerable pose, arms stretched out behind him, body bowed, knees and chest lifted slightly off the bed. He must be a ridiculous sight.

So he looked... and immediately gasped into his gag. A pretty maid, trussed and gagged, utterly helpless and thoroughly subdued. That was all he was now. To be displayed like this! It was intoxicating.

It was important to be cautious when struggling against the bonds, he knew that. Wriggle too vigorously and you could accidentally free yourself. Worse, you could tighten the ropes and end up stuck. And then have to wait, helplessly bound, until someone found you... and Mr Grace's mind began to wander.

\"I'm back early!\"

He was shocked out of his reverie. Mrs Grace? She wasn't due back for hours! What had happened? Not that it mattered right now. He had maybe 30 seconds to get free and change outfit. Panicking, he tried to jerk his hands out of the lasso knot. And did exactly what he had told himself not to. The rope snagged, and tightened, and his wrists were held far more firmly than before.

\"Gnnnnmmnph!\" he cursed into the gag. And then realised it was very, very important not to lose his temper. She was coming up the stairs.

\"Honey? Are you there? Helen was called away.\"

He stopped struggling entirely, remaining as still as he possibly could. The idea of his wife opening the door and seeing him like this, discovering the tastes he had kept from her for so long... It was a horrific idea. And yet one that was turning him on so much that he was starting to feel dizzy.

Mrs Grace put her hand on the door handle. Mr Grace closed his eyes.

\"Don't worry if you're having a rest, sweetheart. I just came back to change my shoes. I'll leave you in peace.\"

He breathed out, flooded with relief. The idea of being discovered like this, bound and gagged and dressed as a maid, had been an interesting one, and he would definitely revisit that later. But it would also have been incredibly, incredibly bad. This was a huge let-off. He breathed a silent thank you to whichever higher power was responsible.

\"I'm going to stay over at Helen's, darling. I'll see you in the morning.\"

Even better, he thought, exploring his bonds to see if there was any slack at all. There wasn't. He really was completely helpless. Maybe, on balance, it would be better -

\"Just make sure you're out of bed by eleven. I'm bringing round the ladies to go through my wardrobe. We'll be coming into that room whether you're ready or not!\"

He thrashed against the ropes, straining and struggling and getting nowhere. No no no this was very bad, this was very bad -

\"Byeeeee!\"

\"N'm nn hmrm!\"

It was too late. The front door slammed shut.

Fuck. But on the other hand -

FIN

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