A Jar of Coffee

A Jar of Coffee

As told to Crowley…

Hi, my name is Carty and I’m a punkette bondage girl. I’m into all sorts of music, as long as it is anti-establishment and loud: so everything from the Dead Kennedys to the Damned to Motorhead to the Genitorturers.

Anyway, as well as the music, I’m heavily into bondage, mild masochism and a bit of submission, depending on the partner. And I usually don’t have any problems finding male or female partners. But, some three and a half years ago, Covid and lockdown came along, and I felt almost like a prisoner (and not in a good way). I had to stay in and use my toys, and that got boring quite quickly. I wanted to be in a little danger. I tried self-bondage, and that was okay for a bit. But, after reading up various saucy stories on the internet, I decided to try experimenting with self-bondage in public. If it had not been lockdown I would not have done this. But it was the heart of lockdown, when absolutely nobody was out and about on the streets. Fuck, I had got up one morning and seen a fox running down the centre of the street, that was how quiet it was.

Shops were only open for essentials, back then. But I decided that it was essential that I got a jar of coffee, as I couldn’t survive without a black coffee in the morning. I had to have something for my many hangovers.

I wasn’t just gonna go and get the coffee, though. I decided to make it a bit of a pervy adventure, and be in bondage under my punk clothes.

First of all I had a nice, hot bath, and shaved my cunt, so that it was nice and smooth. Thinking of what I had planned I couldn’t help playing with myself a little. I’m a very sexual creature. One of these days I’ll go on that Naked Attraction programme (and that will be a whole other adventure.

Sorry. I tend to get sidetracked. Back to the story.

I should mention here that I have a fair few piercings: a labrette through my upper lip, a ring through my left nostril, a ring through my right eyebrow, multiple ones through my ears, rings through my nipples, a bar through the base of my clit, and three rings through each labium. I won’t bore you with my many tattoos.

Anyway, I got out three of my favourite sex toys: a small, vibrating plug which went in my sweet arsehole, a thick vibro which went up my cunt, and a small, vibrating butterfly which went over my clit. Sitting on my bed, I padlocked my labial rings together. The padlocks were only tiny, but they served to keep the vibro up my cunt. I was so wet it would have slid out otherwise.

I put one of my chains tightly around my waist, padlocked again. I made sure that it couldn’t be pulled down. Then another chain was locked onto that, pulled up so tightly between my legs that it made me wince. It went over the butterfly vibe, but I would still need something to keep it in place. By the way, I should probably have mentioned that all three had been put on maximum, and that they all had new batteries (I get through a lot of batteries).

I put on a pair of tight rubber panties, easing them up over the vibe. They bulged out in the front, but at least they’d keep the vibe in place.

It was time to do my tits. I’m a tall girl, and they are a little above average in size. They attract a lot of guys and a fair few girls as well. I had some cord which I’d used to try and bind myself to the bed. I bound myself as tightly around the base of my tits as I could, swearing at how tight it was. But it had the desired effect – my tits began to bulge out, darkening by the second, all tender and pervy. It was only a ten minute walk to the shop and ten minutes back, so I shouldn’t do any real damage to them.

Next came one of my favourite items of clothing, my black leather hobble skirt, one which cost me a small fortune as it was like over forty years old. I worked it up my legs, and used the various straps to make sure I’d only be able to take little steps. Leather boots next. I was almost ready.

I hooked heavy weights into the rings piercing my nips. I almost chickened out and went for lighter weights. But I told myself that this was what I wanted. The metal of the weights were cold against my stomach.

Last was my black leather jacket with the word “Ramones” emblazoned on the back. I grabbed some money and I was out of there.

I’d already had one orgasm while I was getting myself ready, and I was pretty turned on when I stepped out onto the street. I was sure that my cheeks would be red, as I’m one of those people whose face always gets flushed when I cum.

It’s hard to walk in a hobble skirt at the best of times, but it’s even harder when your cunt and arse are stuffed full. I hoped that I wouldn’t fall over, as I didn’t think that I’d be able to get back up.

Anyway, I had to mince along the road, taking tiny little steps. Nobody else was about. I had the road to myself. With each step the vibrators moved inside me, the weights swung from my nipples, and the butterfly vibe moved against my clit. It was a sweet torment.

I was relieved when I got to the shop, though. I’d grab a jar of coffee and totter back. My nipples were really hurting.

I went through the door.

“Mask!” the girl behind the counter shouted at me. Yeah, I had forgotten to put my mask on. Orgasms can be a little distracting.

Luckily I had a mask in the pocket of my leather jacket. At least the mask would cover up my red face. It wouldn’t be so obvious that I was turned on.

I waddled to the shelf with the coffee. At least the coffe was up high, so I didn’t have to bend down fir it. That wouldn’t have been possible. sI grabbed a large jar and went to the counter. I handed over the money, trying not to cum as I was being served by the very bored young woman behind the counter.

“Is there a fly in here?” she asked, as I grabbed my change. Shit, she could hear my butterfly vibe buzzing. She had pretty sharp hearing.

“Don’t think so.” I said. I got out of there.

I ripped my mask of and breathed a big gulp of air. My body didn’t know whether to laugh or cum. In the end it did both. At least I hadn’t cum in front of her.

I began the walk back to my place. It seemed a lot longer walking back. My nipples were still aching with the weights dangling from them. I bet my breasts looked purple under my leather coat. I wanted to get the cord off from around them.

Halfway back I had another orgasm. I almost dropped the coffee. I managed to cling onto it. I didn’t want to drop it, not when it was six quid a jar.

“Fuck, fuck, fuck.” I swore, as I grabbed some cool morning air. This had not been a good idea. But I knew that the memory of it would be a big turn on, for ages to come.

Somehow I made it back to my place without another orgasm. I put the coffee on the kitchen table, shucked off my Ramones jacket, and took the weights off my nipple rings. Then I untied my tits.

“Ow ow ow.” I massaged them back to life. Yeah, they had been purple, and going cold. I’d have to be careful with any such breast bondage in the future.

I took off my boots. I slid out of my hobble skirt. Then I tried to get out of my tight rubber panties. But, like an amateur, I had forgotten to put talc on before I had pulled them up. Somehow I managed to work them down my legs. I could now smell my pussy juice. I needed another bath. I was drenched. I undid all of the padlocks, got the chains off, and had the butterfly vibe fall to the floor. I extracted the anal vibe, as the one in my cunt slowly slid out. Then I collapsed into a kitchen chair, as nude as the day I’d been born.

A little later I reviewed my little adventure. It had been fun. It had been a turn on, especially the chance of discovery. I knew that I’d do something similar again. But maybe, next time, I’d have weights swinging from my pussy rings.

The End

Crowley hopes that Carty relates some of her other adventures to him. He understands that there have been a few.