The Wrong Shop
Chapter 1
[SIZE=14px]My thoughts were suddenly interrupted by a tannoy announcement saying the museum was about to close, I looked at my watch and realised that it was nearly 5pm. I had been in the Rijksmuseum in Amsterdam for the last 6 hours studying a number of their Impressionist paintings. I saved the file I had open on my tablet PC; feeling satisfied that I had enough information to help me with my studies when I returned to the UK.
I packed everything away in my rucksack and followed the rest of the visitors to the main exit. Only when I stepped outside did I realise I should have used the bathroom before I walking back into Amsterdam and to the hostel were I had been staying for the last week or so.
The slightly warm feeling in my groin reminded me that the laser operation to enlarge my prostate was only 10 days ago. I had been warned that there was a small chance of permanent incontinence from such an operation. However the surgeon had said that normally patients only experienced a small amount of leakage for a week or so and for that time he advised me to wear an incontinence pad.
For this trip I had purchased some fetching shorts with a pouch to contain a discrete pad that could easily be changed in a toilet. I carried a few spares in my rucksack and now I realised I needed to change it.
With the museum closed I started to walk back towards the centre of Amsterdam looking for a cafe where I could use their toilet. Finally in a dark side street I found one and having ordering a coffee I visited the toilet and changed the pad, putting the wet one in a ziplock bag for disposal in the nearest waste bin after I left the cafe.
As I sat in the window drinking my coffee I noticed that opposite was a discreet red neon sign advertising a sex shop and my mind wandered back to my flat in East London.
My flat was the middle floor in a block of three. Upstairs was occupied by an elderly gentleman I rarely saw and downstairs in the garden flat was Mollie. Mollie was about 3 years older than me, a tall long-legged good looking lady with long blond flyaway hair. I fancied her from the first day I met her in the hallway however she dashed my hopes by announcing in that refreshing way that liberated girls have, that she was a lesbian.
From that point on we were like brother and sister. If she needed any help she would call me and vice versa. We sometimes went for a drink and discussed many things about our respective work lives but we never touched on our private lives.
I was certainly not prepared to tell her during those meetings about my foray into self-bondage. I had long fantasised about bondage; but never had an opportunity to try it for real until I read about self-bondage. I had recently started to experiment but it was certainly not something I wished to shout about.
I had read a number of articles on the internet and one evening I felt brave enough to give it a try. I had purchased a ball-gag and a vibrator from a sex shop on the dual carriageway outside the town along with some rope.
My bed has a lattice headboard and footboard so tying myself to it with pieces of rope was easy; at least it was for my feet and one wrist but as far as the other wrist was concerned I settled for tying a loop around the woodwork and slipping my wrist through it.
Before slipping my wrist through the loop I lodged the vibrator against my penis and buckled the gag in my mouth. I knew of course that I could remove my wrist easily; but the “excitement” of the situation seemed to fool my brain into believing I was stuck.
The vibrator brought me quickly to an orgasm and I slipped my wrist out and untied myself and showered. The ball-gag had been more painful than I had expected and the overall experience wasn’t what I had expected. I resolved to do some more research.
The second attempt another time proved to be my undoing. I had read about the use of an “ice time lock”; essentially a key frozen in a small block of ice. Once the ice melted the key was released and you could unlock a pair of handcuffs securing your wrist and get free. Simple in theory.
I purchased a pair of handcuffs and froze one of the keys within a small ice cube. I tested it and it took 2 hours to melt which seemed OK for a start - I could always use a bigger ice cube another time. I refroze it with a string attached that I could tie it to the headboard. This would allow the key to drop to a point where I could reach it, allowing me to unlock the handcuffs.
Next I addressed the issue of the ball-gag. It had strained the muscles in my mouth and put pressure on my teeth, neither of which was comfortable so I decided to try a scarf instead. I visited a charity shop and bought a couple of woman’s scarves figuring one would work but I chose two made from different materials so I could try them out and decide which was best.
Now I was ready to try again. With 2 hours to endure I figured the vibrator might just bring me to a second climax. It never occurred to me to have a plan B in case I couldn’t get free.
As I was not at work that day I started in the morning. I rolled up one of the scarves and gagged myself with it, tied ropes around one wrist and both my ankles and clicked the handcuff dangling from the headboard in place over my right wrist. I was committed now. Above my right wrist hung the melting ice cube; what could possibly go wrong? The vibrator soon brought me to climax number one; but this time I couldn’t do anything but lie there and wait.
Suddenly I heard the doorbell; but of course I couldn’t answer it. I remembered that Amazon had sent me an email saying they would be delivering a parcel today. “Never mind”, I thought, “they can either leave it in the hallway or put a card through and try again later”. What I wasn’t prepared for was the sound of Mollie’s voice saying to leave it with her and as she had a key she would leave it in my flat to save the man a return visit.
I heard the key in my front door and then I heard Mollie walk in to put the parcel on the table; but I hadn’t closed my bedroom door, why would I? and she couldn’t help but see me. My secret was out.
She walked in and appraised the situation. She unknotted the scarf gag and I tried to explain what I had done and not to worry and just leave me to it.
She looked at my bondage and tutted; ‘you are not very well practiced are you’, she said. I admitted it was only my second attempt. ‘I like the jeopardy of the melting ice’, she said lifting the cube from the bed head. ‘But without this key I imagine you would be stuck.’ I nodded not sure where this was going.
She put the ice cube on the dresser and checked the ropes, tightening the knots I had tied. She then inspected my groin pulling down my stained shorts and moving the vibrator off my cock. ‘You’ve got a nice body’, she said playing with my erect cock. I started to ask her to release me but she shook her head; ‘you set up a session of self bondage so I don’t think I should deny you the full effect you were looking for, however I think your situation calls for some enhancing.‘
I wasn’t sure what she meant until she bent down and removed her knickers and thrust them into my mouth. She used the scarf to hold them in place and whereas I had just tied it through my mouth she looped it through my mouth several times before knotting it tightly. The gag was now 100% better than the one I had done.
She pulled my shorts up to cover my groin and tucked the vibrator back inside; ‘enjoy yourself, I’ll pop up later and release you.’ She turned and left me to the mercy of the vibrator and for the first time I experienced the full effect of bondage, only this time without any chance of freeing myself. Effectively I had made myself, or rather she had made me, her prisoner.
Sitting in the cafe I recalled that wasn’t the last time she had tied me to my bed. Sex was never on the agenda; but I got my gratification from the vibrator and we never talked about it outside my bedroom.
Looking across at the sex shop I wondered whether they might have a DVD on self-bondage. I had visited a few adult shops in the UK but I hadn’t found anything that satisfied me; but this being Amsterdam surely they would have something I reasoned. Taking it back to the UK might be a risk but I figured it was worth it.
I drank my coffee and made a decision and walked across the street. Looking back on that decision it is one I wish I hadn’t made; but as they say “you can’t turn the clock back”.[/SIZE]
Chapter 2
[SIZE=14px]The shop seemed tiny when I entered; but like many shops in Amsterdam it extended a long way back. It was not particularly well lit and I seemed to be the only customer. A large lady in a black outfit sat behind the counter but she ignored me. I figured customers would be nervous enough without being asked if they needed any help.
The first rack of DVDs contained nothing of interest so I was forced to explore the rest of the shop. This was not going to be quick “in and out” I thought.
I passed the leather section with helmets, gags and straps and then a fearsome collection of whips and dildos. Next was a hanging rail containing various female clothes. As I brushed past I saw a French Maid, School Girl and a studded black leather Dominatrix style dress amongst others all arranged in varying sizes.
At the very back of the shop were more DVDs along with magazines and books. Clearly these were the slightly more risqué ones kept away from the passing tourist I thought. I then noticed there were several booths with a notice that said you could preview any DVD for a fee of 10 Euros.
I looked through the selection and choose two titles that, based on the cover might be of interest and read the instructions on the booth door. It seemed you put the money in a slot and it allowed you 5 minutes to view the DVD or DVDs. I stepped into the booth and sat on the seat and fumbled for a 10 euro note.
The first DVD was graphic to say the least, it was exactly what I was looking for and I got carried away watching and forgot about the 5 minute timer. When the TV turned off and the DVD ejected I hadn’t started to watch the second DVD so I needed another 10 euro note.
As I started to watch the second one I became aware that my cock was hard and was rubbing against the soft incontinence pad. I didn’t think about the consequences as I gently rubbed my groin whilst watching the scenes unfolding on the DVD and just as the five minutes ran out I stifled a groan as I climaxed, grateful for the pad.
I left the booth and walked a little stiffly to the desk to pay for the two DVDs as I couldn’t decide which to keep. The woman was talking to a man but she stopped when I put the discs on the counter. ‘Did you enjoy them?’ she asked with a knowing smile and I said I had. She then said; ‘yes we know you did, would you like to see a replay?’ and suddenly on the TV was a picture of me rubbing my groin in the booth.
I coloured with embarrassment but tendered the money, keen to leave the shop, however the man stepped over and put his hand on my groin. ‘Interesting there is no stain from all your hard work’, he said.
I pulled away and made to leave but I was grabbed by the straps on my rucksack and pulled back. ‘No need to leave so quickly son’, he whispered in my ear and I was suddenly filled with a sense of foreboding.
The woman walked over to the door and clicked the latch and pulled the blinds down and turned to me; ‘Let’s see what the dirty little tourist has to offer’, she said.
My rucksack was pulled from my back by the man who handed it to the woman and then his iron fists clamped onto my arms preventing me moving. Her first discovery was my stock of incontinence pads, including the wet one. “Interesting”, was her only comment as she removed my tablet PC, passport and wallet.
I protested loudly and she stopped going through my belongings and walked over to the leather display and returned with a ball-gag and that put an end to my protests.
‘So Mr Tim Green’, she said reading my passport, ‘you are clearly a well off tourist as there must be over 1000 euros in your wallet. I wonder what your PC tells us about you?’ She turned it on and I cursed the fact that in the museum I had just put it to sleep and I had never bothered to set a screensaver password.
She obviously knew how to search computers because it didn’t take her long to find the letter I had sent to my new employer confirming I would be starting with them two weeks this coming Friday and also the booking confirmation that showed I was staying in a cheap hostel near the centre of town. A Eurotunnel ticket in my wallet also confirmed I had a car with me and that I wasn’t leaving for a few days.
If that was bad I realised that there was worse in the photo gallery and she soon found the photos Mollie had taken and I had kept. How I wished at that moment that I hadn’t. The photos were good, which was why I had kept them. But the subject matter, my self-bondage positions, was not one I cared to be seen at this moment, but seen they were.
The woman put the tablet down and walked over to me and although I struggled against the gorilla’s grip I couldn’t stop her undoing my belt and pulling my trousers down and there for all to see was the white incontinence pad visible through my shorts. She pulled my shorts open and noted the sticky mess inside.
‘What a pathetic and disgusting creature you are’, she said, ‘but one that will be of use to us I think.’ I didn’t like the sound of that but my struggles against the gorilla holding my arms got me nowhere.
I was powerless to prevent her removing my trousers, shoes and socks. She then pulled my shorts off and unbuttoned my shirt before nodding to the man. He relaxed his grip slightly, but only to allow her to remove my jacket and shirt before he clamped my arms in his vice-like grip again. I was now naked.
The ball-gag was unbuckled and I was allowed to speak. ‘You can’t do this to me’, I shouted and the woman smiled a crooked smile; ‘I rather think we can. I mean who is going to miss you, and anyway you will be paying for the same fun you were clearly having in those photos but with a Dutch twist, so what’s not to enjoy?’ To make her point further she removed the cash from my wallet and put it into the till.
‘Before we go any further you seem to be leaking and we don’t want a mess in the shop.’ I looked down to see my wet cock and when I looked up she was tearing open a package she had removed from a rack with a label above it that said “ABDL”.
What she held up was an adult sized towelling nappy with poppers down the sides. It was soon between my legs and clipped in place and I blushed with embarrassment. The soft material caressed my cock.
‘Now we can see from the photos that you don’t use ball-gags, I don’t see why not but as you are the client I’ll find you something more to your liking.’ She disappeared again and returned with several more packages from another display. She tore them open and dropped the scarves onto the shop floor.
She selected two blue ones and reached into the nappy and used one to dry my sticky groin before balling it up, making sure that the sperm was on the outside, and then forcing it into my mouth. The other scarf was knotted in the middle and the knot forced into my mouth before the scarf was tied in place. My cock stiffened in the nappy as I explored this new type of gag and found it was effective and even through the towelling I could see it twitch and so could she.
‘Now I noticed you browsing our selection of clothing on your way through the store which is a bit strange given that you are naked in all your photos; but as you have paid us well the least we can do it let you pick something nice to wear.’
I was dragged over to the rack I had seen briefly when I walked to the back of the shop. The owner picked out several; all of which were woman’s uniforms, but gagged as I was I couldn’t ask why she had chosen them.
She held each up against my body and it was soon clear she was not looking for me to choose one; instead she was watching the reaction of my cock through the nappy. I don’t really know why but two uniforms in particular got a big reaction and I realised I was going to wear one of them quite soon.[/SIZE]
