It had been a long time since I wore jeans and canvas sneakers. Last night, I started with simple front and back handcuffing, but to up the difficulty, I added shocks from a Coyote stun device.

Afterward, while still handcuffed, I put on leg shackles. By then, the Coyote’s intensity was at 70 or 80; my balance was noticeably unsteady, yet after walking a bit, I decided to switch into 10-centimeter high heels—all while my hands and feet remained shackled. Once I’d made the switch, I shifted to having my hands cuffed behind my back. On the walk back, the shock intensity climbed toward 100, and I was eventually zapped into kneeling right there on the road.

I never expected things to go wrong so suddenly—and in such a compounding chain of mishaps.

Last night, after handcuffing myself to the pole behind my back, I tossed the remote away; the key was secured to the handcuff chain via a timed lock. I thought I had pressed the button three times—intending to set it for three minutes—but...

A few minutes later, wanting to check the time, I discovered there were still nine minutes left; I had actually set it for thirteen minutes by mistake. My mind went completely blank.

But once I calmed down, the priority was to use my legs to retrieve the remote and turn off the toy.

Then came the waiting...

However, another mishap occurred. While moving around in place, I accidentally stepped on the remote and turned it back on (at 10:05). I slumped to the ground, but as I reached out to switch it off, I accidentally kicked the remote even further away with my heel.

I struggled mightily to kick the remote back toward me, but just as I tried to grab it with my hand, I accidentally nudged it off the edge and down a step... At that point, I was truly out of options. There were still five minutes left on the countdown. Even now, my mind goes blank when I think about it; I honestly don't know how I got through that time.

Last night, while getting ready to handcuff myself, I casually tossed the key aside and put on the leg shackles. Then, I handcuffed myself behind my back to a streetlight pole. When I wanted to unlock them, I realized the key was too far away to reach. Thinking back on it now, it’s a good thing I didn't lock the leg shackles around the pole as well—otherwise, it would have been a truly mortifying situation.

A new setup: first, I put on the leg shackles to get a feel for the surroundings, then activated the timed Coyote lock. Finally, as usual, I handcuffed my hands behind my back to the road sign. With a bit of room to move, I left the Coyote lock engaged, left to struggle helplessly while hearing nothing but the sound of clashing metal.

It’s been a while. I had some new clothes that I hadn't worn yet; it’s gotten cold recently, so I no longer dare to expose my midriff, though I did make the impulsive decision to wear sheer stockings.

This time, I decided to cuff both my hands and feet behind a signpost and secure the cuffs with a timer lock. To add a bit of fun, I placed the key down by my feet and handed over control to the Coyote.

The last time I used this position, I didn't have the Coyote involved. Although my range of motion was limited, I knew I could simply wait for the timer to run out to unlock myself. With the Coyote involved this time, however, I discovered—after experiencing sudden surges of intense current—that struggling against the restraints caused excruciating pain in my limbs. I felt an immediate urge to squat down and grab the key to unlock myself. Yet, knowing the timer lock served as a safety net, I was a bit careless while trying to reach the key with my back turned. Then, a sudden surge of current hit, causing me to accidentally knock the key away—leaving me with no choice but to wait for the timer lock to release...

C'était un numéro plutôt extrême : j'avais les mains et les pieds menottés derrière un poteau—avec les mains menottées dans le dos et levées au-dessus de ma tête—et la clé était fixée à la chaîne des menottes avec un verrou à minuterie. J'ai même croisé un passant ; c'était limite, cela aurait pu aboutir à une humiliation sociale totale. Je venais juste de finir de menotter mes pieds derrière le poteau quand j'ai entendu le bruit d'une trottinette électrique. C'était en pleine nuit, et le conducteur avait ses lumières éteintes et le moteur était incroyablement silencieux ; je ne l'ai repéré que lorsqu'il était pratiquement juste devant moi—même si j'avais une lumière de remplissage allumée. J'ai été tellement surpris que je me suis précipité pour me cacher dans ma voiture. C'était une bonne chose que je n'aie menotté que mes pieds ; si j'avais aussi menotté mes mains, j'aurais été complètement foutu—coincé là, exposé aux yeux de tous jusqu'à ce que le temps soit écoulé. Dans cette position, il n'y avait aucune chance de s'échapper—je ne pouvais même pas bouger, encore moins me libérer. Après que le passant soit parti, j'étais tellement pris par l'excitation que je ne me suis même pas arrêté pour réfléchir à la possibilité qu'il revienne ; j'ai simplement réglé la minuterie sur trois minutes et je me suis à nouveau menotté complètement au poteau. Avec le recul, c'était incroyablement imprudent.

Last night I used the leg-split device again, and this time I wore a blindfold. With the blindfold on, I could only see the outlines of surrounding objects, but I still managed to walk away with my hands cuffed behind my back, then groped my way back to unlock it.

Then I decided to cuff myself to a streetlamp with my hands cuffed behind my back while still using the leg-split device, just like last time when I was cuffed in the front. But the difficulty of cuffing myself behind my back was much greater; not only was my movement more restricted, but even when I squatted down at the end, I almost couldn't reach the key.

Here is an outdoor self-bondage setup I haven't tried in a long time.

I reach my hands over my head to the back and cuff them around a post; this forses me to remain standing. Even if I squat, my hands stay trapped high up, making it absolutely impossible to reach the key. The only way to unlock myself is to slowly sit on the ground, inch forward bit by bit, and finally lie flat.

This setup requires nothing more than a pair of handcuffs, yet it creates an intense sense of restraint and helplessness. If you're interested, feel free to check out my past posts—I've done this many times before!

This time, a complete overhaul of the handcuffs was done with a new toy.

Previously, the handcuffs were simply secured with leather handcuffs. This time, the neck handcuffs were directly attached to the support of a traffic light pole, and then locked with a timer lock. Even wearing high heels, this height was extremely difficult.

The helplessness of metal is far greater than that of leather. Once the handcuffs were tightened, there was no possibility of escape before the countdown ended. Even more despairing was that four electrode pads were attached to the inner and outer thighs, and control was randomly handed over to someone else.

At first, everything was fine. Although it reached level 20, it was relatively stable. But this bastard waited for the limit to increase, then used a one-button ignition to directly raise it to level 50. There was no transition or adaptation process. I was literally shocked to the point of wanting to jump up. But there were leg cuffs below, and my hands were tightly handcuffed above my head with no room to move. Never before had I felt as desperate as last night.

It had been a long time since I last used leg shackles. There was no preamble this time; I shackled my ankles immediately upon arrival and then prepared to cuff myself to the pole. I had originally intended to simply cuff my hands behind my back, but just as I was about to lock them, I made a last-minute decision to cuff myself by bringing my arms up and over my head to the back. I was still holding the key in my hand at that moment; after some hesitation and indecision, I ultimately decided to let go of it. Looking back now, I realize that if the key had bounced away to a spot out of reach, I would have been truly done for...

J'ai vraiment tout donné cette fois.

Avant de me menotter les mains, j'ai utilisé une sangle de contention pour plier et fixer ma jambe gauche ; j'avais appris par expérience que l'enrouler une seule fois signifiait que la sangle glisserait après quelques secousses, alors j'ai spécifiquement utilisé une plus longue cette fois. Je l'ai enroulée autour de mon mollet d'abord, puis je l'ai bouclée autour de la cuisse et du mollet avant de l'attacher—en m'assurant qu'elle ne glisserait pas quoi qu'il arrive.

Ensuite, j'ai réglé une minuterie de cinq minutes et je me suis menotté les mains derrière un poteau. Comme je me tenais en équilibre sur une seule jambe—et portant des talons hauts de 10 centimètres, pour aggraver les choses—je pouvais à peine rester debout après un instant. Pour couronner le tout, la personne qui contrôlait mon appareil « Coyote » n'arrêtait pas d'augmenter la tension, atteignant la limite de niveau 80 sans une once de pitié ; c'était exaspérant.

Quand j'ai finalement perdu l'équilibre et me suis accroupie, ce salaud a commencé à marteler le bouton « feu ». Mes muscles ne pouvaient s'empêcher de se convulser, mais parce que ma jambe gauche était attachée en position pliée, je ne pouvais pas la redresser—et essayer de me relever d'une position accroupie sur une seule jambe était une torture absolue.