Mar 032012
 

Friday morning, I grabbed my “away” bags in the hopes of seeing J this weekend. On my way out the door, I spotted the new rope I just bought on my dining room table. (Where else would I keep the rope… in the living room? That’s just silly.) I stuffed it into the bottom of my rolling file cart and drove off to work in a brilliant mood.

Besides my excitement at the possibility of seeing J, I love Fridays at my office. Despite being a fairly stressful line of work, the office is pretty casual. We’re allowed to work from home when we aren’t needed in the building, and so the office is generally pretty empty on Fridays. I like long, quiet stretches of time to get my work done without the interruptions of coworkers or the distractions of home.

A little after noon, I made some coffee, ate the disgusting protein bar I brought for lunch, and finished up the blog post I was working on. Of course, writing blog posts leads me to have sexier thoughts than I should be having at the office, and that leads to fantasies…. and then I remembered the rope at the bottom of my rolling cart.

Technically, I was on break for lunch, and besides, the office was dead and I have a lock on my door. I thought I might practice my rope skills for a few minutes.

I locked my door, pulled out the rope, and set to work on my ankles. Practicing on inanimate objects isn’t ideal, and while I’m not into self-bondage, my ankles are the closest thing to another person I had available.

Single wrap on my left ankle, french bowline, a teeny bit of slack, a single wrap on my right ankle, and another french bowline with the slack between my ankles. Bam… instant ankle restraints with enough extra rope to half hitch to something stationary. It wasn’t pretty, but it was secure.

I wanted something prettier, so after a couple of tries, I bound my ankles together with a two-column tie (instructions here). It took me a little while to figure out, but it was much more aesthetically pleasing and distributes the pressure over a wider area, so I assume it would hurt less if my submissive pulls against the restraints.

Feeling confident, I wanted to try tying myself to something. I double wrapped an ankle, used a french bowline, and a simple square knot to tie my ankle to one of the bottom parts of my office chair just above a caster. I did the same with the other ankle. Without too much fumbling, I was tied to the office chair. While it would have looked nicer with actual stationary chair legs, it still looked sexy.

Still tied to the chair, feeling sexy and confident, I browsed the web for instructions for something more complicated…

*Knock knock*

Fuck.

“Who is it?”

Why the fuck would I say that? Um, it’s someone who works in my building, someone I know, so why would I ask who it is? Any normal person would have said “come in” (if the door was unlocked) or “hold on” and got up and unlocked the door. Even a person in my predicament who had some common sense might have just STFU and not said anything. The “window” on my office door is opaque, so there’s no way to tell whether I’m inside or not, and so I could have pretended I wasn’t there. That would be logical. But I’m not logical. I’m a fucking idiot who asks “who is it?” while tied to her own office chair.

“It’s Rick. Just have a quick question about the ______ proposal.”

Fucking Rick. Rick already thinks I’m weird. Every time I see him, I appear to be in some sort of situation. He caught me crying once after I got some bad news about a relative’s passing. A few weeks later, he caught me putting drops in my eyes (the air in the office makes my eyes burn), and again, I’m sure he thought I was crying. Earlier this week, he walked by my office when I was on the phone, literally jumping up and down with happy tears in my eyes, overjoyed to learn that a friend of mine was finally pregnant after four years of trying.

Now Rick was standing outside my door, probably thinking I was crying again.

“Hey Rick, I’m on the phone. Hold on a minute.”

And why the fuck would I say that? I wasn’t on the phone, and since voices carry, even with the door shut, Rick probably listened for a quick second before knocking, and since he didn’t hear anything, I’m sure he knew I wasn’t on the phone. And why did I say “hold on a minute…”?  I should have said I was busy and would stop by his office in ten minutes. Telling him to hold on meant that he would stand there and wait outside my door until I let him in.

But I couldn’t let him in… because I was tied to the chair.

Not only was I tied to the chair with a person waiting for me outside the door, I now had to carry on an imaginary phone conversation — out loud — because I said I was on the phone.

Fuuuucck.

While talking to myself — carrying on my imaginary phone call with my imaginary client — I desperately fumbled with the ropes, trying to untie the knots around the chair. In hindsight, that was dumb — I should have untied my ankles, left the ropes on the chair, and hope Rick didn’t come around to my side of the desk. Come to think of it, in hindsight, tying myself to a chair at work was fucking dumb.

I undid the knots on the chair, still having my imaginary conversation, and fumbled with the knots at my ankles. It wasn’t quick work, especially with longer fingernails. I glanced up and could see Rick’s fuzzy silhouette, still standing outside the door. I freed one one ankle and as I worked on the other, I started wrapping up my imaginary phone conversation, telling the imaginary caller that I really had to go because someone was at my door.

After a few more “uh huhs” and a “talk to you soon” I was free.

I threw the rope under my desk, walked over, unlocked the door, and opened it a few inches. I told Rick to come in as I retreated back behind my desk. As Rick swung the door open, as I was on my way back to my chair, I spotted about a foot of rope visible on the floor next to the desk. I damn near tripped getting back there quick enough to kick it out of sight before Rick was in the room.

I don’t think he saw the rope, but I’m sure he saw how red my face was, both from the panic and from having my head down by my feet for a couple of minutes. I guess it’s not that bad, as Rick already thinks I’m weird.

Oh well. Lesson learned.

 


More Fail…

corset fail

The laces tangled around the doorknob and I was stuck too close to the door to be able to turn around and work myself loose. I swear the laces slip-knotted themselves or something… [read more]

grooming fail

“I’m not sure why I’m telling you this, but I guess I should warn you before you see it. I didn’t have much time and I tried to shave really quick, and I couldn’t get it even… and… um, my pussy looks like a… [read more]

threw my back out

If only I hadn’t thrown my back out, it might have been a lovely evening. With the hot bubble bath and the glass of wine, I might have been in the mood to play… [read more]

 

  11 Responses to “self-bondage fail”

  1. I love this. This is *precisely* the kind of trouble I would get into.

  2. Thank you. I'm getting good at getting into trouble. :) Glad to know I'm not the only one!

  3. This whole time I've been reading your blog, wondering what exactly made you chose dumb domme as your pen name…

  4. Apparently, dear, sweet Peroxide, you haven't read far back enough. I've also accidentally tied myself to a doorknob.

    I've always been dumb. I couldn't hide it if I wanted to.

  5. Oh my God… I laughed until I peed. I've never tied myself up before, but I did forget to put my butt plug away before my kid found it. I told him it was a stress reliever. It wasn't a total lie.

  6. It wasn't a lie at all! I can only imagine a kid saying… "Mommy? What's this?" Ummm… :D

  7. love this! love a Domme in Distress story!

    you ever been in heavy bondage?!

    good blog x

  8. Excuse me while I go laugh my ass off at your expense. :D hehehe

    • As well you should. :) You have my blessing for whatever laughing off you do at my expense. I deserve it! (and plus, it was funny) :)

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