A Camping Trip, Part 1

Copyright 2005 by dungeonmouse
MF; F/m; Sbf; Sbm; bond; steel; cuffs; collar; chain; chast; toys; oral; outdoors; cons; X

I met Tricia during a bondage walk a few months ago while on a business trip. We called each other frequently. We talked about getting together for another bondage walk but I think we both wanted something different. We’d both done numerous bondage walks on our home turf; we wanted something bigger for our time together. We decided on a vacation together. A bondage vacation camping trip. Three or four days hiking around in the woods wearing chains was the logical next step beyond bondage hiking.

When Bob suggested a bondage camping trip, I admit I had two different thoughts about the idea. The first voice in my head told me I was certifiably insane even contemplating spending several days wandering around in the wilderness, chained hand and foot, with a guy I'd met only once. What if we were discovered? The voice conjured up angry redneck poachers straight from "Deliverance." I shushed the voice before it described the brutal rape and all that followed. The second voice throbbed with lust. I love bondage hiking. The night air on my bare skin, the chains cuddling my limbs, the odd juxtaposition of heavy bondage and wild freedom. I love it. I'm always sad and disappointed when the dawn creeps upon me and forces me back into my other life, the place where I survive between the all-too-short spells living in bondage. Spending days or weeks or months living in chains burned through my insides like a blow torch. Bears, redneck rapists and icky bugs notwithstanding, I couldn't say no. Staying home simply wasn't an option.

We discussed our plans in great detail. Our long distance bills had almost as many zeros as the Federal budget. We finally broke the planning down into three decisions that would drive all the other planning: where we would go, when we would go and what bondage gear we would wear. The location would determine what we needed for food, water and shelter. I initially voted for desert. I've hiked the southwest both in bondage and not many times over the years. The spring weather is pleasant with cool nights and warm days. The open terrain actually works for you if you're hiding from casual observers since you can see or hear them approaching a long way off. The terrain only becomes a liability if someone is actively looking for you. You must carry water in the desert and this is its greatest drawback. Water is heavy so carrying it is hard work. Other campers and hikers congregate around the few water sources in the desert, so if you run out, you are forced towards other people. Tricia lives in wooded country, so she felt safer with trees around. I explained that we'd be hiking at night and stumbling into someone else's camp is much more likely in the forest that in the desert. She countered that any place we went would have few people so stumbling onto anyone was unlikely, forest or no. She also pointed out, quite rightly, that forest areas have water. If the very worst happened and we lost our gear, we could survive without food or shelter in the forest. Without water in the desert, we'd be in trouble.

Once I convinced Bob we should camp in a forest, we started looking for a suitable spot. We wanted an area that either he or I had visited before so we weren't going into the place completely cold. We finally agreed on a wilderness area in the mountains. I'd spent a few summers there as a kid. It resembles the places where I bondage walk now but larger and much less populated. Once we had the place, the time was easy. Summer in the mountains is perfect camping weather. We both requested vacation in June, hoping we'd avoid the crowds around July 4th. We picked a week when the moon was waxing so we’d have two weeks of useable moonlight for night hiking.

< With the "where" and "when" nailed down, we started discussing the "what." The first discussion centered on whether we would carry keys with us while camping. We spent way too many long distance minutes discussing something we both knew we wanted. For both Bob and me, it just isn't bondage hiking if you can get free anytime you wish. I think we both had "safe, sane and consensual" in our heads while we argued against what we knew we would do. We decided we'd put the keys to a lock box deep in the wilderness area at the far end of our trek. Then we'd drive back to the parking area and hide the lock box near the car. The keys to our chains would stay locked in the lockbox. We'd hike from the car to where we hid the lockbox keys, then bring the keys back and open the lockbox to free ourselves. I remember the night we agreed on this plan. We each asked the other a dozen times if we were agreed on the plan. We ended shouting and laughing over the phone that we did indeed fully agree, enthusiastically agree, fanatically agree with the plan. When I hung up the phone, my heart was pounding so hard I could hear it.

Tricia left planning the route to me after telling me all she remembered about the area from her childhood. I downloaded maps from the Web and scouted several likely areas. I also called the Ranger Station for the wilderness area and inquired about rules, hiking trails and all the other details. As far as they knew, we were planning a normal wilderness camping trip. Based on my previous bondage hiking experience, I figured we could average about one mile per hour while hiking in chains. I figured conservatively we'd hike about five hours each night, so we could make about five miles per night. We agreed on two nights out and two back. So I laid out several routes about ten miles long, making them a bit longer in easy terrain and shorter in rougher terrain. I would fly to Tricia's house the Friday before we started, we'd drive to the area on Saturday and scout the routes Saturday afternoon and Sunday. Monday, we'd set everything up and get started Monday evening after dark. With any luck, we'd be back at the car Friday morning before dawn. Tricia had to be back at work the following Thursday and I was off through the following weekend, so we had some extra days if anything went wrong. We jokingly agreed that, if everything went well, we'd do the trip a second time during our extra days.
I hadn't given much thought to our bondage gear, assuming we'd use the stuff we had. Tricia had other ideas.

I've been bondage walking for years using my regulation police cuffs and leg irons. They snap on quickly and fit well but they leave marks on my wrists after long periods. My favorite fantasy is being a slave with heavy steel cuffs on my wrists, ankles and neck. I've always wanted a set but never simultaneously had the means and the money for them. I'd had the money for a while. During our trip planning, the means suddenly presented itself. The college where I teach hired a new art instructor. I sat with her at lunch one day and introduced myself. Jan is rough-edged and sparse in her dress, manners and speech. I liked her at once. Her hands were grimy around edges and under the nails.
When I asked she said simply, "My specialty's steel."

I visited her studio the first excuse I had. She was indeed an accomplished welder, creating graceful, flighty figures from hard-edged steel plate. A warm feeling oozed through my lower body as I strolled around her studio. On her work bench, tucked behind some tools and other projects lay two exquisite steel cuffs. I must have stood staring for a while.

Jan broke my revere with a quiet, "Try them if you like."

I started and looked back at Jan. She sat grinding on a steel sculpture. Sparks flew around her. Goggles hid her eyes and, in any event, she was absorbed in her work. For a moment, I wondered if I'd really heard her. Her grinder paused.

Without looking up, she said, "Go on. They won't bite...much." She then resumed grinding.

I looked at the cuffs again. Amongst the gray and black steel in the shop, the two cuffs gleamed soft silver. I picked one up. The finish was cold but satiny smooth under my fingers. The grinder paused.

"Stainless. Strong. Rust-proof. Bare steel on skin. Can't beat it."

The grinder screamed again. The cuff had two hinges, one on either side. The hinge pins unscrewed to open the cuff. At first, I saw no attachments for chains until I noticed a groove cut through the middle of each hinge body. With the hinge pin removed, you could slide a chain link in the groove. When the hinge pin was replaced, it trapped the link in the groove. I slid the cuff around my wrist and screwed the hinge pin back in. The screw had a round head with a square hole in it for a torque bit. Once torqued down, you couldn't get it off without the torque bit. I screwed the pin in finger tight and shivered as the steel pressed against my skin. The cuff was just a bit large. I tugged on the cuff. I might have gotten it off with some lotion lubricating my wrist. The grinder paused.

"Don't worry over the fit. I custom-make each set."

The grinder buzzed. I put on the other cuff. My hands shook slightly as I stared at the steel bands. I hung my arms at my sides. I turned, brushed back my hair, put my hands in my jacket pockets. The steel slid back and forth over my skin, raising goose bumps all over my body. I had to have these cuffs! The grinder stopped. Jan pushed up her goggles. Black dust circled her eyes, giving her a raccoon look.

She smiled. "I knew you'd enjoy them."

I looked puzzled.

"After I saw you the other night. I was watching a horned owl. He hunts there some nights. You walked about ten feet from me."

I gaped at her and she smiled broadly. I giggled and she chuckled. We laughed and talked and ordered a delivery pizza. She measured me for my cuffs. We talked about chains and she agreed to provide stainless steel chain to my specifications. I asked about a set for Bob. She turned to her computer and printed a measurement sheet and a detailed instructions. Over pizza and wine, I discovered Jan was also a night walker but not in bondage. She watched birds at night. Why she made steel cuffs, I never quite figured out. I think she just enjoyed building contradictory things. Beautiful bondage. Delicate strength. Soft steel.

When Tricia mailed me the measurement sheet, my first reaction was to toss it. We had too many other things going to mess around with new gear. We both had gear we'd used often before, why not stick with it? She called and talked all night about this woman, Jan, and the cuffs she made. It wasn't what Tricia said as how she said it that convinced me. She described the cuffs in an awed voice usually reserved for religious experiences. After listening to her talk, I was sold.

With the cuffs in hand, we discussed how we would bind ourselves. With a couple exceptions, we agreed on most things. We wanted our wrists and ankles chained together for sure. We agreed on about 12 inches for the wrists. With 12 inches between wrists, you can do most things with your hands but you must move them together to do it. The ankle chain we decided to make a few links less than a normal stride and have a waist chain hold it off the ground. The waist chain would keep the leg irons from catching on short underbrush and sticks if we needed to move quickly and quietly. We talked about a chain from the collar to the wrist chain or from the collar to the ankle chain with the wrist chain attached somewhere along it. We wanted as much bondage as possible but we couldn't make so much noise that we attracted attention.

We finally settled on a chain from the collar to the center of the wrist chain. It would be short enough that to extend your hands all the way, you had to bring them part way together. We agreed that chain set would limit us enough to make things fun yet allow us enough mobility so we could scramble around if necessary. The chain set was also compact enough that we could move fairly quietly by keeping the chains tight. We discussed and discarded other refinements like chaining ourselves together (we wanted one person free to get help if the other got hurt) and adding a ball on a chain (occupies your hands, too much noise and not enough mobility in the woods). We discussed gags and plugs but decided we'd rather eat, especially since the trip could extend past four days if we got delayed somewhere. We decided not to bring any other locks or locking devices into the woods with us (what happens if you lose the key in the woods?). But we parted ways on the chastity belt.

I not sure why I made such a big deal over the chastity belt. Partly, I guess I was jealous of Bob's scrotum collar. He wears it all the time and I guessed he planned to attach the chain from his leg irons to it instead of a waist belt. Also, I really, really enjoy my chastity belt. It hugs me in all the right places and wraps my sex up so safe and secure. Plus, I almost orgasmed just thinking about hiking four days with a dildo wiggling around inside me. I have two belts, one with two plugs and the other with just a vaginal plug and an opening at the rear. Cleaning up after a, uh, poop can get a bit messy, but not if you take your time.

I wore the single plug model for six days once and for three days on several occassions. It has two small holes where I can squeeze Vaseline to lubricate the dildo if necessary. But I've never worn the belt longer than overnight in a situation where I couldn't take it off if I needed. I've never needed to remove it but Bob worried I'd get an vaginal infection from all the dirt and water in the woods. Something would wiggle in alongside the dildo sometime during the four days, according to him. If I'm really truthful with myself, I'd also admit that I wasn't sure I wanted sex with Bob while we were on the trip. I know, I know, that sounds really strange coming from a gal whose planning on spending four nights in heavy chains wandering around in the dark with this guy. But bondage has always been a private turn-on for me. Just me and the chains, nestled tightly together.

When Bob and I got each other off during our first meeting, we used our chains on each other. I loved talking bondage with him. Just being with him and hearing both our chains tinkling in the dark thrilled me. I was looking forward to this camping trip with more excitement that I'd felt in a long time. Bob was my bondage buddy and I loved him dearly as that but I wasn't sure that I wanted him as a lover as well. In the end, I told him I'd wear the chastity belt without the dildo and he reluctantly agreed.

I'm still not quite sure what all the fuss was over the chastity belt. Tricia finally talked herself into an solution she liked and that was that. Once we had the time, the place and the bondage scenario nailed down, we worked on the details. Tricia's brother was big into camping and she'd done some with her family as a kid so she worked on our food and shelter. I am pretty handy with a sewing machine and had some definite ideas about our clothing, so I worked on that. I also gathered charts and other things we'd need to find our way to the keys and back. We decided the most likely "emergency" we might face was getting discovered while camping and losing some or all our gear if we got away. So, we planned our non-bondage equipment so we had backups for everything we would really need.

Tricia emailed me photos and ads showing the equipment she had researched. Her brother pointed her towards a couple reputable suppliers and she did the rest. She found light-weight sleeping bags with rain covers so we didn't need a tent. She found freeze-dried food, a tiny stove for heating water, first aid kits, little folding utensils, matches, canteens, in short everything we might need. She decided we'd carry food for six days with us. We'd hide another four days of food near the keys as an emergency stash at the half-way point. Everything we'd carry fit into two medium sized back packs. She divided everything in half so we could lose a backpack and still have one of everything. Did I mention the two sleeping bags zipped together to make one big bag?

I got topographic charts for the area plus two regular sized compasses and two tiny backup compasses. I also put in a small GPS unit and my cell phone. If we really got lost, we could find the keys, the lockbox and the car at night with the GPS. If we had a dire emergency, like someone breaking a leg, we could call help on the cell phone. At some point, the freeze-dried food, the GPS and the cell phone started sounding, well, hokey. I mean, did two slaves on the run ever have a GPS? A cell phone? Super light-weight, space-age sleeping bags? I half-jokingly told Tricia we should just take some beef jerky in a bag and head for the woods.

She didn't say anything for a moment then "OK. Let's do it. Just us, the chains and the woods."

Once she said the words, we both knew the decision was right.

While I researched all that modern camping gear, I knew somewhere deep in my brain that this wasn't the way we would do it. When Bob said "beef jerky," I knew where we'd gone wrong. The decision was so obvious once we thought about it for a moment. We did take a first aid kit for emergencies and a map so we could find our way. We also stayed with the emergency food stash at the half way point, but it would be more beef jerky. I found a recipe for hard tack and made some with raisins and nuts for energy. I also took some oranges and a surprise. Bob got the beef jerky and some water skins for canteens. We both had good hiking shoes. With the decision made to "go medieval," the trip became even more exciting.

Bob did a wonderful job on our clothes. He made large ponchos from wool. They had hoods to protect our heads. The sides had enough material that we could belt them at the waist with a rope, wrapping the wool around our bodies for warmth. With the belt in place and our torsos well wrapped, there was still enough material hanging free so our arms were completely covered. They were very warm even when wet. Underneath, we wore cotton tunics which were basically long cotton rectangles with a head hole in the middle. We put our heads through the hole and the ends fell down the front and back to our knees. Bob sewed a leather thong to the back for a belt and put toggles on the lower ends so the "skirts" wouldn't blow up. We'd wear the tunics almost all the time and use the wool ponchos when it got wet or cold. I found us two small canvas backpacks for our maps and food. When we weren't wearing the ponchos, we'd roll them up and tie them to the backpacks with the belt ropes.

The only problem was our neck chain. Unlike shirts and pants, the tunic and poncho would go on and off with our wrists and ankles chained together. However, the chain from our collars to our wrists kept our hands under the cloth on our chests. Splitting the tunic and poncho up the middle seemed more trouble than it was worth but wearing a collar without a chain attaching it to something seemed really lame. We finally decided to attach the neck chain permanently to the middle of the wrist chain then attach it to the collar with a screw link. Unless we wanted the neck chain dangling from our wrists and tinkling all the time (not good when being stealthy) we would have to connect the neck chain to the collar. We could still disconnect the neck chain when donning or removing the tunic or robe and neither garment needed splitting up the front. The part I liked best was we could hike naked if we wished. All this seemed like a good compromise. We thought.

By now, spring had sprung. The days were getting hot and the nights were cool, not cold. Summer was just around the corner. I had a business trip near Tricia's city and took a short detour on the way home to drop in for a day. Jan was a real piece of work and her cuffs were real works of art! When she slid that first cuff on my wrist for a trial fit, an electric wave rippled through my body. She marked a few minor adjustments on the cuffs and took them away. I really wanted to wear them all day but Jan insisted. I brought Tricia's poncho and tunic so she could try them on. Jan had finished Tricia's cuffs the day before without telling her. She got the cuffs out while I showed Tricia the clothes. When Tricia saw the cuffs she stood and stared. Eventually, she put out one hand and touched a cuff.

Jan muttered, "You gonna try them on or not?"

I've never seen a woman undress so fast in all my life. Tricia put on her cuffs and the tunic then modeled them for us. I almost came just looking at her. She personified beauty in bondage. She tried on the poncho and the back pack and we worked out how everything would fit. Then Tricia tried hiking in her gear. As she walked around the room, climbing over chairs and benches, I felt my heart thumping. We were ready. We were really going.

The day Bob brought my tunic and poncho remains a haze in my mind. I had no idea Jan could complete my cuffs so quickly. They were the most beautiful things I'd ever seen. When Jan slid them on me and tightened the screws, liquid fire bubbled through my veins. My knees actually quivered. If Bob and Jan had not been standing there watching, I would have stroked myself to orgasm in about fifteen seconds. I almost did anyway! I tried on the tunic, poncho and backpack mostly for an excuse to keep wearing the chains. I never wanted them removed. I clambered all over Jan's shop, practicing. I packed and unpacked the backpack, took off the poncho and put it back on, but all the while, I was feeling the cuffs tugging at my wrists and ankles, relishing the collar's weight on my neck, jiggling the chains just so they would jingle and bounce against my skin. Bob seemed happy with my tunic and poncho but took them back so he could finish all the details. Jan let me keep the cuffs.

Bob took me out to dinner to celebrate. I insisted we find a restaurant in the next town so I could wear the cuffs without running into my students. Bob looked like he wasn't sure that was a good idea but he also got the lustiest look in his eyes whenever he looked at me. He said, sure, we'd go anywhere I wanted. I wore a long skirt and a tight, short sleeve sweater to dinner with all five cuffs but no chains. Everyone looked at me while we ate. Most people were more or less discreet in their gazing though a few just stared. I smiled at everyone and soaked up the attention. By the time we finished dinner, I was wired. I invited Bob back to my place, stripped his clothes off as soon as we stepped in the door and practically raped him on the living room rug. I didn't even take my dress off, just pushed him to the floor, hiked up the dress and plopped down on him. He was as ready as I. After we finished the first round, I led him to the bedroom, chained him to my bed and undressed. Then we started round two.

I don't know how many times we had sex that night but I woke up sore all over. I also had my police handcuffs on my wrists behind my back and my right ankle cuffed to Bob's left with my police leg irons. How the handcuffs and leg irons got there I haven't a clue. We sorted out the cuffs, found the keys and untangled ourselves in time for a quick breakfast before Bob had to catch his flight home. I drove him to the airport still wearing my new cuffs then drove to work. I was almost to the college when I realized I didn't have the wrench to remove the cuffs. I called Jan on my cell phone. When she picked up, I heard a clicking sound like something hard tapping against her phone's mouthpiece.

"Looking for this?" she said.

I asked if I could come by her studio but she was just leaving for the college herself. She told me to meet her at a convenience store parking lot just off campus. I was terrified a student would see me but Jan hung up before I could protest. I parked next to her car and jumped in with her. She took her time removing my cuffs then ceremoniously handed me three of the special wrenches. I thanked her quickly and we both hurried off to work. I just made my first class. As I walked down the hall I glanced at my watch and realized a) I wasn't wearing my watch since I'd had a steel cuff on that wrist since yesterday and b) the cuff, while very comfortable, had left some visible marks on my skin. I ducked into the restroom. I had marks, just visible, on my neck and ankles as well. I rubbed some lotion on them which helped a little.

I was wearing a knee-length skirt and a blouse with three-quarter sleeves so I couldn't hide the marks with clothing. However, first period was in a lecture hall so I waited until the last student went in then walked directly to the podium. I stayed as far from the students as possible and kept my legs behind the podium. But they knew. Kids are so transparent, damn it. They knew. I could see it in their eyes. But, you know what? I thought about the cuffs that made the marks they were peeking at and suddenly I didn't care. They knew who I am. They knew a little more about the real me. What’s wrong with that? By the time class was over, I was almost brazen. Two girls came to the front after class, ostensibly with a question. I stood very close to them and pulled out my text and showed them where to find the answer. As I pointed to the page, the podium light illuminated the pale pink rings around my wrist. The girls exchanged glances and I lectured on in my best schoolmarm voice. They left and I sagged against the podium. I didn't know whether I should rub myself to orgasm or sit down and cry.

Tricia really looked hot when she wore her cuffs to dinner. The brushed finish Jan used on the cuffs gave the metal a soft sheen in the subdued lighting at the restaurant. No one could possibly mistake the cuffs for legitimate jewelry. They were obviously bondage wear. Yet, the construction quality and precise fit made them fashionable. Tricia was obviously not some Goth teen out to shock the grownups. She wore a sweater, a long skirt and high-heel pumps, all very classy in design and fit. Even the long skirt said "bondage." It was slim enough for a slight hobble effect and had slits up the side so the ankle cuffs flashed with every step. She looked like a trend-setter modeling the next big thing. Everyone in the restaurant looked at her. She smiled and acted like she wondered why all the attention. Her eyes flirted with every man in the room and several women as well. I was surprised by her attitude. I knew Tricia was a gutsy bondage walker but all my conversations with her convinced me she was very conservative, even shy, in her public life. This Tricia was someone new and I was her escort!

The scene at Tricia's house afterward was straight from a bondage story. We were horny as two goats by the time we got to her place. We went at it right on the living room floor for starters. She pushed me to the floor on my back then sat right down on me. She laid down on my chest at first but shortly pushed herself upright and rode me like a horse. I came so quickly and so violently I grabbed her breasts through her sweater just to hang on. I was neither gentle nor gentlemanly when I grabbed her. That sent her right over the edge. After catching our breath, we retired to the bedroom and spent the next hour or so playing with her handcuffs. We were damn lucky we didn't both end up chained to the bed and the keys beyond reach. As it was, the configuration when we passed out required some awkward maneuvering the following morning. I got on the plane home sucked dry as a gourd and aching for the next few weeks to pass.

Jan shipped my cuffs to me a week later so I could try them out and make sure they fit well enough for long-term wear. I spent a wonderful weekend chained in the basement. The cuffs fit wonderfully yet felt so heavy and powerful. Jan had flared the all cuff's edges and rounded the sharp corners so you could put almost your full weight on either the ankle or the wrist cuffs with no more discomfort than a good leather cuff. The same flare on the collar let it rest it's considerable weight on your neck without any discomfort at all, just an overpowering feeling of slavery. I counted each and every minute until our camping trip.

I really tried to focus on getting ready for our trip. I really did. The cuffs were so beautiful, so heavy and so alluring, I wanted to spend every spare moment walking around in them. I went on three bondage walks at the greenbelt behind the college. On one walk I got home at 3 a.m. and it was a school night. I was a basket case during the afternoon classes. The weekend before our trip, I spent all Saturday double checking everything. I took a nap Saturday afternoon and woke about five. I had to do something. I'd worn my cuffs with the chains all day and I needed to get out. I took the chains off then put stainless rings in their slots. Each cuff now had an obvious attachment point. I looked at myself in the mirror. A slave stared back.

I showered and pulled on a skirt and blouse. I drove back to where Bob and I had dinner but went into a bar across the street. The place was very upscale and filled with yuppies. The volume dropped noticeably when I sat at the bar. I ordered a Manhattan and the guy next to me paid for it. I thanked him and avoided his questions. Another guy sat down on the other side and I talked to him, saying enough to Guy 1 to keep him interested. I excused myself to the ladies room and flirted with a woman who followed me in. I went back to the bar and acted like a nymphomaniac. I felt like a nymphomaniac.

About an hour later, I went to the ladies room for real. Sitting there I realized there were at least two men and one women who felt sure I was going home with them that night. There were others who thought they had a shot. I snuck out the back and drove to the green belt. I stripped, put on the chains and walked to the far end and back. I almost got in the car then turned and started shuffle running back down the trail. I didn't know where I was going or why, I just had to feel the cuffs banging against my skin and hear the chains jingling between my legs. I ran the full length and part way back before I collapsed. I lay in the dark, rolling in the soft mulch alongside the trail. I touched myself and my hips bucked like a shocked bull. I orgasmed until I lost count then fell asleep.

I woke to birds chirping as dim light filtering through the trees. I walked back to my car. The sun was up when I got there but I didn’t care. I was so happy walking around naked in chains. I briefly considered walking a few blocks off the green belt to a coffee shop for breakfast. Naked. Wearing chains. No one was around early on a Sunday morning and the kid at the coffee shop would probably enjoy serving a naked slave girl. Hell, he’d be ecstatic. Even if the naked slave girl was his professor. Sadly, I realized I still needed a teaching job to eat. I took off my wrist chains, pulled on just my blouse and drove home. I slept until Bob called about noon. He said I should stop playing with the cuffs for a few days and get some rest. He was right. I sadly put the cuffs away, took a long soaking bath and went to bed early Sunday night. It was going to be a long four days.

I called Tricia Sunday and confirmed everything was ready. I could hear the fatigue in her voice. I had her tell me what she had done the previous few days and her tale confirmed my suspicions. She was OD'ing on her new cuffs. I talked her into taking the cuffs off and going to bed early. At the rate she was going, she would be a chocolate mess by Thursday. Truth be known, I'd come close to OD'ing myself the previous weekend. Luckily, on Monday I did a road trip to see a client who is a racket ball fanatic. He closes his important deals on the court. A splendid hotel room, two days of killer racket ball and no cuffs snapped me out from my OD haze. I spent the week before our camping trip in the office and the days dragged endlessly.

Thursday finally came. I packed that night, using a checklist Tricia had developed and went to bed early. Friday I flew to Tricia's place. We had a platonic evening as she wore her chastity belt. She had recovered nicely and was fresh and ready. Actually, I was glad she wore her belt from the beginning. I had gotten back into the self bondage mode and was ready for the camping trip. If we had spent the next couple days screwing each other's brains out, we might never have made the camping trip.

We drove to the forest on Saturday. We discussed the trip only in short snippets. Mostly we drove and watched the scenery. Tricia squirmed a bit in her belt, it not being particularly comfortable while sitting. She finally just took her jeans off and sat there bottomless. A couple truckers noticed and blasted their horns at her. She decided she might try driving bottomless more often. We got to the forest by mid-afternoon. We checked into a hotel outside the national park. It was a tourist trap trying to look rustic. Sunday, we checked out the area. We visited the ranger station, got more maps, asked about where to leave the car and generally played yuppie backpacker. The wilderness area was contained in a national forest. We found a campground where we could leave the car and scouted our proposed routes. We found two routes that looked promising and hiked part way along those routes. We discarded one route as too rugged. Our final choice was the longest route I had picked but was well away from places where people gathered and covered mostly easy terrain. By the time we finalized our choice, the sun was headed down. We went back to the hotel, had a light dinner and turned in. Tomorrow would begin a very long four days.

The trip up was a chore. I'd put the plug in with the belt. I'd promised Bob I'd just wear the belt but I just couldn't leave the plug home. I sat there trying not to move too much and stimulate myself. I finally took my jeans off on the pretext they were uncomfortable but I really just wanted the nudity as an excuse to get aroused. I squealed and wiggled when the truckers tooted their horns to cover a couple orgasms. I really enjoyed Bob's company but my body was doing what it always does - getting off on the hardware.

We scouted the routes on Sunday. The final choice was obvious once we looked at the terrain and the proximity of people.

Monday, we tried eating a leisurely breakfast. We were both too keyed up for leisure, so we bolted breakfast and went to work. We drove to the far end of our trail. There was an overlook with a view across the valley we would hike up. We climbed down from the overlook into the valley and went to the meadow Bob had picked out on the map. We planted three keys and the emergency food cache in different locations. We put them all near odd-shaped trees or large rocks so we could find them easily. We watched the trail for a while to see if anyone was nearby. We got jumpy after a half hour and drove back to the campground. We sat in the car. We'd planned to start Monday evening but here it was Monday morning and everything was ready. We sat a little longer.

Finally, I said, "Ah, hell, let's go ahead and sit naked in the forest all day."

Bob laughed and said, "Let's."

We shouldered our packs, locked the car and hiked down into the woods. Our lockbox hiding place was a small clearing a hundred yards off the hiking trail. It was invisible until you were almost in it. We stripped and put our clothes in bags. We hid the bags in a cluster of trees. We pulled out our cuffs and chains and helped each other torque the screws down. We put a car key and a cuff key/torque tool in each of two lockboxes. We checked our gear and put on our tunics and ponchos. I looked at Bob. He had a funny expression in his eyes. Part elation, part fear, part lust. He looked at me and his expression said I had the same look in my eyes. I glanced around the small clearing. We could hide in the trees all day then start hiking at dusk. Bob picked up a lockbox, a length of chain and a padlock. He wrapped the chain around a tree surrounded by brush just outside the clearing then put the padlock through the chain and into the lockbox's hasp. I did the same the other lockbox on the other side of the clearing.

Bob said, “Don’t get your wrist chain caught in the lock.“ and we both laughed.

I looked at Bob again and smiled. He started to speak then smiled and clicked home his padlock. I giggled, checked that my wrist chain was clear and clicked shut my padlock. We were now slaves on the run.

When Tricia closed her lock, the click sounded like thunder. The "last click rush" hit me like a tidal wave. I sat down and looked at Tricia. She stared at her padlock for a while then tugged on it gently once then harder two or three times.

She looked at me. "That's not coming open without the key."

I yanked on my padlock. "This one either."

We stood up. Tricia spread her wrists apart, testing the chains. She took a long step and let the leg irons pull her up short. I walked to her and put my wrists behind her head. The chains rattled against her collar. We kissed, quivering with excitement. As the kiss built from hesitant to passionate, we heard laughter ring out behind us. We both turned, chains jingling. Voices came from the trail. We squatted down, keeping the chains as quiet as we could. People were hiking up the trail.

One said, "Look up here."

We heard feet scrambling through the brush. We backed into the bushes around the clearing and made ourselves as small as possible. The voices got closer. The voices exclaimed over a large mushroom. The voices discussed the mushroom then feet scrambled from the woods and the voices dwindled. Blood pounded in my head. Tricia's mouth was parted and her breath came in short gasps.

She stared towards the trail, "That was close."

I nodded, although they probably never got within fifty yards of us. We waited until the voices were gone then moved farther off the trail into the woods. We found a thick stand of shrubs and crawled in.

The talkative hikers spooked me at first. I guess I thought we'd be the only ones in the woods on a weekday. After I thought about it, I decided I was overly concerned. We didn't hear anyone else for a long while and I felt braver.

We made a little nest inside the bushes, bending branches back and moving stones. Bob put his arms around me and we sat close, listening for more voices. I fingered the chains on my wrists. I was scared and elated at the same time. We were stuck wearing these chains for the next several days. We had a long hike before us and so many unknowns. Those facts frightened me. But, we were stuck in chains for the next several days and that fact also thrilled me. I pulled on the chain to my collar. The tug added to the collar's weight and send a shiver through me. I wiggled my bottom, searching for a softer sitting spot. The dildo moved inside me and I felt warmth spread through my loins. I looked down at my ankles. The slender feet and tan skin contrasted beautifully with the heavy cuffs and chains.

After a while, the sun filtering through the trees got warm and we pulled off our ponchos and lay on them. We tried to stay quiet but every time we moved, the chains clinked and rattled softly. We snuggled up against each other. Bob had a raging hard-on. I reached down and playfully pulled on his scrotum collar.

"I can fix that if you like." I whispered.

Bob looked confused. "I thought your belt was locked on."

"It is, silly. But I have more than one opening available."

Bob lay back and thought about this. I knew what he was thinking. Do we start having furious sex right away or wait and let the burn grow? I gave him a few moments to think then I decided for him. The dildo had been wiggling around inside me all morning. That, plus lying in the sunshine half-naked wearing all those chains, had me feeling so slutty it hurt. I slid down Bob's body and took him in my mouth. I didn't fuss around with it. I pushed my face down into his crotch until his penis hit the gag zone in my throat. I took the chain from my collar, ran it around behind his scrotum collar and pulled gently until his balls snuggled under my chin. The tension pulled his member a little deeper into my throat and I squirmed and swallowed, fighting back the gag reflex.

Bob gasped and put his hands on my head. His wrist chain fell down into my hair, wreathing my head with steel links. I clung to the chain pinning my head into his crotch. Muffled squeals punctuated by gulping gags mixed with tinkling chains and rustling leaves as I squirmed atop Bob's thighs sucking on his cock like a crazy woman. Bob humped his hips against my face with increasing urgency. I felt him shudder and eased off on my throat chain just in time to stop gagging and start swallowing. The gooey, salty taste flooded through my mouth. I gulped as fast as I could but he filled me up too fast. Cum diluted with saliva trickled past my lips and ran down my chin. Bob stiffened as he came, pushing against me. I kept sucking and swallowing for the longest time then we both sighed and collapsed into the leaves, Bob still in my mouth. I mouthed him tenderly, savoring the moment and the small drops still seeping onto my tongue.

I should have realized what an animal Tricia has inside her after that evening in her apartment. But she caught me by surprise in the woods. I mean, I was enjoying the chains and the outdoors and getting really aroused by the hardware while she was just sitting there, staring at her chains then, bam, she goes down on me like a duck on a June bug. She went crazy, sucking on me and rubbing around. I was in heaven. Afterwards, we lay there gasping for breath, then we dozed off.

I woke with Tricia still on me. I lay still and stroked Tricia's hair.

We lay in the leaves all afternoon. We napped a little and talked some in whispers. A lone hiker surprised us about mid-afternoon. We were quietly talking and I was moving my hands as I made some point, my wrist chains tinkling softly, when Tricia shushed me and froze. We heard a boot crunch on the trail below then stop. Nothing happened for the longest time then we heard the boots crunch up the trail. I was becoming concerned that we might have chosen too popular an area. However, the vocal group passed by shortly after the mystery boots left. The boots crunched by, headed back, a bit later. We waited until dusk then put on our ponchos and packs. We waited a while longer to make sure no one had heard us getting the gear together then headed out.

The afternoon passed lazily. Bob dropped off after I devoured him. I lay in the dappled sunlight. I rolled my hips slowly back and forth, moving the probe inside me back and forth. My arousal ebbed and flowed in the warm afternoon. When Bob woke, we talked about how we'd discovered self bondage. He told me all about his mom and dad and how they'd been so unnerved yet supportive when they found out about his kink. My folks still don’t know about my kink. I envy Bob for having a family who are at least aware of who he is.

When I heard a boot crunch on the trail without any warning, I froze. Maybe there's more wild animal in me than I thought. The boots eventually moved on and I started breathing again.

We moved to the trail in the gathering dusk so we wouldn‘t miss it in the dark. At first, it was scary. Our little glade had become familiar, quiet and comfortable. When we climbed down the hill, our feet snapped twigs and branches pulled on our chains. Between the crackling brush and the rattling chains, the din was terrible. Or at least it sounded that way to me. Once we got on the trail, we moved more quietly. At first, I was still worried about making too much noise and I fretted that we were going too slow in our leg irons. As the evening deepened, I fell into my bondage hiking stride and quit worrying. The trail was just a footpath, barely wide enough for two people abreast. We hiked single-file in the middle of the trail so we wouldn’t scrape against the brush in the dark.

That first hike was scary as they always are in a new trail. We paused and listened every few minutes at first. As we became more comfortable, we hiked for longer intervals between listening pauses. I was still worried after hearing the people on the trail that afternoon but we heard no one. As dusk settled into darkness, I began moving easier. Bondage walkers are creatures of the night and I felt safer when the sun went down. The moon gave enough light, barely, to see the trail. I felt the chains rattling against the cuffs. The cuffs and chains would be there for the next four days. I quivered with excitement.

We couldn't read the maps in the moonlight but the trail was visible and I knew where it led. We walked for what seemed like a very long time before we came to the first stream. This stream was about a mile and a half from the start. I became concerned we weren't making very good time. But the moon was still low in the sky, so we had plenty of night left. Bondage time runs faster than normal time. The trail crossed the stream on a small foot bridge. I guess I was a little disappointed at this modern convenience. Wading across the stream captured the idea of slaves on the run better for me I guess. Tricia didn’t like the idea much so we used the bridge. We stopped and listened for a while then crossed the bridge. The trees didn't cover the stream and the night sky opened above us. We stopped on the bridge and stared at the millions of stars and the half-moon. The night was quiet except for the stream's rushing water. We stood together and enjoyed the night.

As we hiked, we got more comfortable. The moon gave us enough light to stay on the trail. The trail itself was reasonably smooth though we did stumble over the odd rock. As I settled into my bondage stride, the dildo began working its magic. The rubber shaft rocked inside me and slow pleasure waves ebbed and flowed through my hips. I got all warm and squishy inside. The night was cool but our cloaks kept us warm. When we came to the stream and Bob suggested wading across “like real slaves,” I demurred. Mountain water is always cold and I really did not want to throw cold water, literally, on the wonderful, slow burn I was having. We stood on the bridge and looked at the stars. I rocked my hips back and forth slightly to keep the burn going. I fingered the chain between my wrists then moved my hands apart until they pulled up short on the chain. Someday, life will always be like this.

The bridge felt like a passage to me. Maybe I thought we could walk back and pry open the lock boxes. We couldn't, of course. The stream and the bridge were no different than any other section of the trail in terms of our situation. But, when we crossed the stream, I somehow felt like we'd passed a point of no return. Now we were going all the way.

Stay tuned for Part 2 of “A Camping Trip”


Home | Stories | Essays | Links | Gromet's Plaza | Selfbound.net