This story is more about bondage and erotic pain than actual sex, so if that is not your kink, you may want to skip this one. Those who understand, will understand. Those who do not are often offended. You have been warned.

This is part one of four parts. Each part stands more or less by itself, but makes a lot more sense if you have read the previous parts.

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WARNING! All of my writing is intended for adults over the age of 18 ONLY. Stories may contain strong or even extreme sexual content. All people and events depicted are fictional and any resemblance to persons living or dead is purely coincidental. Actions, situations, and responses are fictional ONLY and should not be attempted in real life.

If you are under the age or 18 or do not understand the difference between fantasy and reality or if you reside in any state, province, nation, or tribal territory that prohibits the reading of acts depicted in these stories, please stop reading immediately and move to somewhere that exists in the twenty-first century.

Archiving and reposting of this story is permitted, but only if acknowledgment of copyright and statement of limitation of use is included with the article. This story is copyright (c) 2008 by The Technician.

Individual readers may archive and/or print single copies of this story for personal, non-commercial use. Production of multiple copies of this story on paper, disk, or other fixed format is expressly forbidden.
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I have already told you how I realized I was different when after a spanking by my boyfriend my senior year in high school, I was enveloped in a warm cocoon. My first year in college I began a quest to recapture that wonderful, warm feeling. Three years later, I finally found my cocoon once again with the help of my uncle and his wonderful self-controlled, bondage pain and pleasure machines. I also learned that the secret was that the pain or humiliation had to be inevitable, but I had to ultimately cause it or control it. In other words, I learned that I was a self-bondage pain slut.

I didn’t yet realize just how addicting my yearning for the golden cocoon actually was and what would eventually be needed to control that addiction. This final part is the story of how I discovered my addiction, and what would control it.

My uncle had designed a variety of computer controlled self-bondage devices and I studied his designs and tried to figure out how to modify the controller for my own use. I would often sunbathe out on the patio behind the ranch house. Since there was no one for miles and miles, I would often sunbathe completely nude. I could only stay out there for a short while because I burn easily, but one afternoon, lying out in the sun in a giant, naked X, an idea began to gnaw at the back of my mind.

All I had to do was stay too long out on the patio and the pain would be inevitable, and I would have caused it. I thought about that for a while, but it didn’t seem to cause any stirrings toward my cocoon. Maybe if I added bondage? Maybe if I added bondage and humiliation? Maybe if I added bondage and humiliation in a public place?

The sudden wetness between my legs told me that my body was starting to agree with my mind.
If I could somehow hang myself out in the sun for everyone to see, it would take me to my cocoon. Hanging there naked would be the humiliation. And since I am pretty fair skinned, a few hours in the sun would result in a pretty intense sun burn. That would be the pain. The question was where to do it, and how to make it inevitable, and how to string myself up for a long period of time without permanently hurting my arms, wrists and shoulders?

OK, maybe I should have asked my uncle how to do it, he was, after all, the one who designed and built all these strange bondage machines. But I was pretty far into the “I have to ultimately control it,” aspect of self-bondage. I was going to figure this out on my own. Besides, lying in the sun each afternoon and thinking about what I might do gave me mini-fixes of almost being in my cocoon.

Strangely enough, I found the answer to my questions on the cable History Channel. There was supposed to be a “History of Sex” special that I wanted to watch, but the programming was screwed up and I had to suffer through the ending of a really boring program on building skyscrapers or something like that before my program began. I was only half paying attention when they showed a crane start to lift a big beam into place. Suddenly they had my full attention.

The cable from the crane came down to a smaller beam, and then two chains came from the ends to the small beam down to the big beam. A worker attached the chains to the big beam, but then rather than stepping back away from the beams, he stepped onto the beam. He held on to the two chains where they attached to the small upper beam and put his feet near where the chains attached to the lower beam. Then the crane hoisted the beam a gazillion feet up to the top of the building.

As I watched the man rise to the top of the building, his silhouette against the sky looked like someone bound to a display cross. The cable was taut above him and the tremendous weight of the beam pulled the chains tight, but there was no significant strain on his arms or wrists. It was no different than standing bound against a wall. It was the perfect display bondage thousands of feet in the air and exactly what I was looking for. But how could I duplicate it?

I roamed around the ranch and barn for a couple of days thinking about what I could use when suddenly I saw what I needed. Uncle Jack has several water tanks and there was a hoist beam for each of them so you could lift them up into the bed of a pickup truck or onto a utility trailer. The winch connected to the tank just like the crane connected to the beams on the cable channel. There was a short beam on the end of the winch with two chains that connected to the tank. If I put two of those beams above the tank, one above the other, I would have my hanging display bondage. And I knew exactly where I could use it.

My uncle has a cabin up on a really high bluff overlooking the interstate. He calls it his retreat. You can get up there with a four wheel drive vehicle if you are really careful and take you time, but usually we park the Jeep at the bottom of the trail and walk up. The only time we took the Jeep up to the top was when we needed to bring water up to the top for the cabin’s cistern.

Uncle Jack had a unique way of bringing water to the top. He would tow a water tank in a trailer to the base of the bluff, directly below the cabin. Then he would drive the Jeep to the top, anchor it’s back bumper to a steel beam driven into the ground, and lower a long cable down to the beam connected to the tank. There was a rounded section of the edge of the bluff that the cable would ride over as it dragged the water tank to the top. When the top of the tank was just a little below the level of the cabin, uncle Jack would drop a hose into the open hatch at the top of the tank and use a portable pump powered from the Jeep to pump the water into the cabin’s permanent tank. He said he used to have a pump system at the bottom with piping to the top, but after it was stolen twice, he started hauling the tank to the top. “Nothing left here to steal,” was his explanation.

I asked why he didn’t just tow the tank to the top and he replied, “Tried it once. Made it up. Almost made it back down. Lost the tank. Lost the Jeep. Walked home. You can only be that lucky once or twice in your life.”

I felt I was once-in-my-life lucky to have this ready-made solution for my plans. All I had to do was use an extra hoist beam or two and separate them by the right length of chain. After a little thought, I figured out that I would also have to add longer chains so that the display beams were farther above the tank. That would put the beams on the ground well away from the edge when I started. Uncle Jack was going to be away again over the weekend so I decided that would be when I would put my plan into action.

On Saturday morning I put the extra hoist beams and longer chains in the trailer and filled the water tank. After I towed it out to the cabin, I went up on the bluff and lowered the cable from the Jeep. It was a 15 minute walk back down to attach the cable properly. I then used a remote control which tied into uncle Jack’s self-bondage computer controller to activate the winch on the Jeep.

By the time I had returned to the top, the tank was almost there. A few minutes later I stopped the tank and checked my display area. I had measured the chains very carefully. They were just a little bit longer than I could reach when stretched out in an X fashion. I lay down on my back on the dirt between the beams and stretched out my hands. Everything was perfect.

I really wanted to try it out immediately, but I had to make sure that it would work reliably. I didn’t want a replay of my episode in the barn when uncle Jack found me hanging out of the upper hay loft door naked and in real trouble. This time I would make absolutely sure nothing could go wrong.

I activated the winch to lower the tank. I had programmed it to play out cable at 6″ per minute. This would mean it would take over three hours for the tank to reach the bottom. I went back to the bottom and watched the tank slowly descend. I imagined myself strapped into the space between the beams about ten feet above the tank. I then repeated the process.

Everything worked exactly as it was supposed to work, but it was now late in the day. I was ready. Tomorrow would be showtime. The next day I again took the water tank out to the cabin and hoisted it up to the edge of the bluff. This time, however, I didn’t just imagine strapping myself in place, I did so.

I was using leather cuffs of my uncle’s design. They had special latches on them that were what he called “timed pop-releases.” They had a built in timer, and once the timer had reached zero, all you had to do to release the cuff was push a large square button on the side of the cuff. You could press it against almost anything and it would release. This allowed someone who was attached to a spreader bar or something like that to release their own cuffs if the bar itself was free to move.

I figured I would set the timer for one hour so that I couldn’t release the cuffs before the cable went over the side of the bluff. Then when I finally got to the bottom, I could hit the cuffs against the tank or trailer or something and release myself. I would have to climb back up to the top of the bluff barefoot and naked to retrieve the Jeep, but that was all part of the planned humiliation.

I put on the control wires and harness as well as the electric ball gag, dildo and butt plug. That might have been a little bit of overkill, but I figured I might as well go for broke. After the hood was in place, the controller asked its series of questions. Since the hood totally covered my face and eyes, and the cuffs covered a couple inches of my wrists and ankles, I could only imagine the strange “tan lines” I was soon going to have. Everything else was exposed to the burning Arizona sun.

After a few moments I was ready. The only thing I was worried about was whether or not I might scrape my ass and back as I slid over the rounded edge of the bluff, but I had carefully watched the cable go over the bluff twice and it looked like it wouldn’t be that bad. It wasn’t like it was solid rock, there was some softer sand and dirt covering the edge. I told the controller, “pleasure” and the dildo began to vibrate. Then I said “down” and the cable started to play out. I called for “more pleasure” before starting a little bit of pain. The controller asked its customary verification questions when I asked for pain, and soon the gag, dildo and plug were sending their random biting shocks through my body.

This was going to be wonderful. I would be in pleasure and pain and hanging for all the world to see. The interstate was a couple of miles away. From there most people would only see a white something being lowered down from the bluff, but I would know that they were watching my naked body.

Some of the truckers might get out binoculars or even telephoto cameras to see what was going on. The thought of that sent shivers through my body. “Yes, uncle Jack, I am wearing a hood so my face isn’t going to end up on the internet.”

After about fifteen minutes, despite all my careful planning, something went wrong– terribly, terribly wrong. All of the equipment was working perfectly, I had seen to that. But I hadn’t anticipated visitors– visitors alien to Arizona.

At the first touch, I knew who– or should I say what they were, but they weren’t supposed to be this far north. Somewhere here on the bluff was a nest of red fire ants. If you have ever been stung by a fire ant, you know what true pain is and you also know why they call them “fire” ants. I was now burning in a dozen different spots.

Luckily the beams had not brushed across the nest or I would have been swarmed and bitten thousands of times. That would have most likely been fatal. I was also lucky that the air holes in the mask were too small to allow the ants into my nose or mouth. As it was I was being stung again and again and again.

There was a safety system in my uncle’s controller that would notify him that I was in trouble, but if I triggered it, it might stop the cable and leave me in the middle of the ants. All I could do was to endure the stings until I got over the edge. I had calculated that it would take approximately 30 minutes to lower me over the edge. I only had to hold on for another 15 minutes. That quarter of an hour seemed like an eternity. I started counting the bites, but lost track somewhere around 150.

Finally I was hanging free. I shook my body violently and the few ants still on me fell away from my skin. I could still feel one ant walking on my leg very near the top. It reached the top of my leg and started across my groin. I bucked and twisted trying to shake it loose. It was coming dangerously close to my pussy. What if it stung me there? I gyrated even more furiously as I felt its little legs start to cross the top of my cleft. I don’t know if it was my strong shaking or perhaps some wetness from previous excitement, but it started to slip. It finally fell, but not before imparting one last sting in a very, very sensitive place on my body. I screamed and screamed and screamed into my gag. The biting had finally stopped, but the burning continued. It was like I had hundreds of heated pins driven into my skin.

I screamed the safety word into the hood – “Oleo, oleo, oleo” – and the strange computer voice replied with “emergency override activated. Emergency notifications sent.” Then I passed out. When I came to, I was still hanging from the side of the bluff. I was right about one thing. When I sent the emergency message, the program stopped and the winch stopped lowering. I was stuck until uncle jack came and rescued me. As I hung there, I began thinking about what people would think when they found me. I also began “going into the pain” so that I could be in control of it. It was terrible, but I had endured worse. I had even inflicted worse upon myself.

Suddenly I heard my uncle’s voice in my ears, “Where are you, Kelly? I got an emergency notification on my cell phone. I sent someone out to the ranch, but you are not in the barn.”

Shit, my safety message wouldn’t email for another couple of hours. Uncle Jack didn’t know where I was. I screamed into the gag, “Cabin, cabin, cabin.”

It came out sort of like “abin,” but uncle Jack replied, “Are you at the cabin?” and I screamed, “Yes!”

“Kelly, it will take an hour or so to get there. Hang on. Hopefully you haven’t gotten yourself too deeply into trouble. Can you hang on until then or do I have to send emergency help?”

I wondered what the local fire rescue people would think having to bring a bound naked young woman down from the side of the cliff. I figured I could wait for uncle Jack, “I ‘an ‘ang on,” I said into my gag.

“Be there soon,” replied uncle Jack. Help was on the way. All I could do now was “hang around” and wait. I decided to see if the computer would take commands from me. “Down,” I said, but nothing happened. Maybe other commands would work. I tried “pleasure,” and the dildo again began vibrating. I didn’t need any pain from the machine, the stings supplied more pain than I would ever ask for, but I did ask for “more pleasure, more pleasure, more pleasure.” I could feel the vibrations building in my cunt and in my ass. I knew that I was on the verge of a tremendous orgasm. I had created pain, humiliation and pleasure just as I planned. The pain was much more than I had bargained for, and the humiliation of having to be rescued naked by uncle Jack again hadn’t been part of my plan, but it was inevitable and I had caused it.

The vibrations continued to build and build and build within me. Suddenly the pain and the pleasure became one. In my mind I could see lines of trucks and cars pulled over on the interstate watching me writhe a hundred feet in the air in a combination of pain and pleasure.

Suddenly I exploded as I had never done before. The world turned black and then it turned golden. I had found my ultimate golden cocoon at last. When I awoke, I was in a hospital bed and uncle Jack was sitting next to the bed. My mother and sister were also in the room.

“How long was I out,” I asked. I knew it had to have been a long time because Mom and Tracey had to have flown back from Europe.

Uncle Jack replied, “Two days. The doctors said you had over 200 fire ant stings. You are lucky to be alive. We have a lot to talk about when you get back to the ranch.”

They released me from the hospital a couple of days later and I went back out to the ranch with uncle Jack, my mother, Catherine, and my sister, Tracey. Things were pretty quiet for most of the day, but when we had finished supper and Mom and Tracey had cleared everything off the table, uncle Jack pushed his chair back and said, “Kelly, we have to talk.”

He stood up and faced me. Mom and Tracey were sitting in chairs alongside him. “Consider this an intervention,” he said. “You are addicted to your pursuit of your golden cocoon as surely as if you were addicted to alcohol or heroin. And you need to control your addiction or it will destroy you.”

I remained silent but slowly nodded my head. What else could I do? He was right.

“Your mother is also an addict,” he said, “but like her mother before her and many before her, she has found a way to control it, haven’t you Catherine?”

My mother looked down and the floor and said softly, “Yes, master.”

“Catherine doesn’t have enough control to keep her from destroying her life and herself with her addiction, do you Catherine?”

“No, master.”

“So Catherine has turned control over to me, haven’t you Catherine?”

“Yes, master.”

“What do you mean, ‘control’?” I asked.

Uncle Jack explained. “Catherine has turned control of her life over to me. She has made the decision to obey my every command and to not seek pleasure in pain and bondage unless I tell her it is OK. When I say that she must obey my every command, I mean my every command, don’t I Catherine?”

“Yes, master.”

“Catherine, remove all your clothing and show Kelly your brands.”

Mother blushed and stammered something about Tracey being there, but uncle Jack said, “Now!” and she jumped up from her chair and began to take off her clothes.

When she was totally naked, uncle Jack said, “Over the chair,” and she turned the chair around and draped herself over the back of the chair with her hands on the seat. On the inside of her left leg, just below her ass cheek was a small brand, “JS.” It was repeated on the right leg with a line drawn above it, making it “Bar JS.”

“What do those brands mean, Catherine?” asked uncle Jack.

Mom stifled a hiccupped sob and said softly, “They mean that I have made the permanent and irrevocable decision that you are my Master. You have taken on the responsibility of controlling my addiction. ‘JS’ stands for Jack’s Slave. The ‘JS’ and ‘Bar JS’ mean that you have the responsibility to tell me ‘Yes’ and ‘No’ to keep me from destroying my life or myself in my quest for my quiet place.”

Uncle Jack looked at me and spoke softly. “While your father was alive, I transferred control to him, but after his death, it returned to me. Catherine is still allowed to pursue her quest for her quiet place. She just has to clear everything with me first. I have to know what she is planning to do and where so that if something goes wrong, she will be safe, or at least rescued.”

His voice became very stern, “I told you to tell me if you were going to do something, but you chose to ignore me and to put yourself in danger alone. I know you couldn’t foresee a nest of fire ants, but there are many things in this world which we cannot foresee. Tracey has agreed to take on the responsibility of controlling your addiction for you until you find a permanent mate who is willing to take on the task.”

Uncle Jack held up two small utensils that looked like strangely shaped fondue forks except that they had electric cords coming out of the handles. He continued, “This is a ‘TS’ brand and this is a ‘Bar TS’ brand. If you are willing to accept the help that your sister is offering you, remove your clothing and drape yourself over your chair like your mother has done. I looked over at my sister, Tracey, and she just shrugged her shoulders and arched her eyebrows.

“Is this the only way?” I asked. My mother, still draped over her chair, sobbed slightly and answered, “Yes.”

I slowly stood up and dropped my shorts to the ground. I removed my top and bra and then lowered my panties. I set everything in a neat pile on the table. Jack plugged in the two branding irons and they began to glow a dull red. I decided I didn’t want to watch them heating up so I turned and leaned over the chair and grasped the seat with both hands.

My sister came up behind me and softly said, “Kelly, you have to be ready for this, so I am going to get you ready.” With that she began to slowly rub my pussy and clit. The thought of my sister masturbating me caused me to turn beet red, but my body soon responded. I was starting to groan softly when she quietly said, “Kelly, do you turn your life over to me so that I can protect you from your addiction to self-pleasure and self-pain?”

As I answered, “Yes,” I felt the fire of the first brand touch my leg. I would have jumped up, but uncle Jack had moved into position beside me and held me firmly in place.

“Kelly, do you promise to obey whatever I tell you to do from this day forward?”

As I again answered, “Yes,” the second brand burned into my flesh.

“Kelly, my first command to you is permission for you to add pleasure to the pain which you are currently feeling. Lay back on the table and pleasure yourself to completion.” I couldn’t believe what my sister was telling me to do, but I slowly straightened up and then lay back on the table.

“Spread you legs so we can see your brands,” ordered Tracey, and I did. Soon my hands were working faster and faster. I no longer cared who was in the room.

Vaguely I heard my uncle’s voice, “Catherine, you may join your daughter on the table if you want.” I was soon aware of my mother’s moans beside me. In a few moments, she was in her quiet place and I was in my golden cocoon.

My quest was complete.

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[i]END OF STORY
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