© Copyright 2011 - Sinthia - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbmf; M/f; cuffs; chain; bond; outdoors; gag; oral; toys; stuck; cons; X
Last summer, my boyfriend Steve and I were rummaging through some of his old Playboy magazines and reading the Advisor columns to each other. In one letter, a guy wrote about a bondage game that he and his girlfriend would do at night on a golf course in which they injected an element of chance that they would be stuck in bondage until discovered the next morning. Briefly, they would prepare a set of 100 envelopes of which 95 had a key which would open a set of locks and the other five had pennies (to make them indistinguishable by weight). They would then mix all the envelopes and pick five at random to take on their adventure. Under cover of darkness they would sneak onto the course, put their clothes and possessions out of their reach and (envelopes within their reach) chain themselves to some immovable object like a tree. They would then proceed to have monkey sex knowing that there was a one in a gazillion chance that they would be trapped there to be discovered and humiliated in the morning. Predictably the advisor admonished them that this was not safe, they should at least keep a cell phone at hand in the event that something would go wrong, blah, blah, blah.
After I read this letter and reply to Steve, our eyes locked and wicked grins came across our faces. Great minds think alike and clearly we were on the same wavelength - naked golf course sex and bondage with a dose of Russian roulette thrown in.
We started our preparations. We already had 12 padlocks that were keyed alike which meant 24 keys. We also had five other keys that did not open these locks but were identical in style. That meant either to do the scenario with 29 keys (an increase the risk of getting trapped) or get more keys made. We opted for the latter. It took Steve and me several days and umpteen trips to hardware and home improvement stores (and many funny looks) to get the remaining 71 keys made. When asked “Why do you need so many keys?” Steve would shrug and reply, “I dunno. Just need a lot of keys.” We got a few extras in case a couple didn’t work and Steve was in charge of testing the locks and stuffing the envelopes. We decided that since we were using keys that for all looked alike, we would just shuffle the keys, pick five, and stuff each into its own envelope (to heighted the suspense).
The evening of our adventure I started packing our duffle bag while Steve worked on the keys in his bedroom. First was 20 feet of heavy chain, then my metal collar and matching wrist and ankle shackles. In terms of toys, I brought an inflatable butt plug, a smaller rubber butt plug, and a pair of hinged handcuffs with keys. I also brought along a few bottles of water and a spray can of insect repellent. Finally I had five small padlocks (with their keys to be kept in the bag) to secure my metal adornments on me, and six of the large locks that would use the envelope keys. In this scenario I’d be chained and trussed up while Steve was naked but had freedom in case something happened and we needed help.
I put on some summer shorts, tee-shirt and some flip-flops and was ready to go. When I called over to Steve he didn’t immediately answer. I went to look for him and found him engaged in an animated phone call in the exercise room (where he got better cell reception). I went into the bedroom and saw that he had picked out the five keys so I stuffed each one into an envelope, sealed it and I brought the five of them out to the living room and shoved them in the bag. I went into the kitchen and made a light snack of cheese and fruit. Steve sheepishly came in a bout ten minutes later saying “Sorry Babe. Irate customer but I got it sorted out”.
I gave him a peck on the cheek saying “Not a problem. I took care of the keys and packed everything. Have a snack and we’re ready to go.”
With that we got in his car and drove to a side street near the house of a doctor where we had been to a number of parties. His backyard abutted the tenth green of an exclusive country club and there was a chain-link fence and gate between the two. There was a little brook that ran through it with crisscrossing bridges for the carts and foot traffic. Real picturesque. We had had the opportunity to play there as part of a business event (neither of us could dream of affording a membership) and being the bondage slut that I am, I had already picked out the perfect place for a bondage sex adventure. It actually was not far and by the green of the seventh hole. There the far edge of the green was bounded by brush, trees and a lot of bushes – perfect to provide some privacy and a place to be chained.
We killed the lights and ignition and looked around. No one in sight at 1 am on a warm Sunday evening and all the lights at the doc’s house were out. We quietly closed the car doors and locked them, then crossed the main street and made our way down his driveway and through the backyard. No lights or commotion in the house to indicate our presence had been detected. The gate opened and closed quietly and, voilà, we were on the course.
There was a crescent moon and some clouds so we were able to see where we were going once our eyes adapted to the dark. After crossing a couple of bridges we came to our spot. I spotted the perfect tree – about a six inches around and on the edge of the brush. We put down the bag and carefully extracted its contents, making a pile on the ground. I took the envelopes and put them near the tree placing a small rock on them so that they couldn’t blow away if there was a sudden gust of wind.
Steve stuffed the keys for the car, handcuffs and small locks in one of his pockets. We then stripped naked, putting our clothes, shoes, phones and Steve’s wallet in it. We then took one of the larger locks and secured the two zipper tags together. We sprayed bug spray all over each other and rubbed it into each other’s skin. Apparently Steven thought my breast and nipples were at particular risk of attack.
He then got my steel collar and secured it around my neck with one of the small locks, then proceeded to do the same for the wrist and ankle shackles. “On the ground woman!” he exclaimed in mock authority. Being a good slave I sat my naked butt down on the grass near the tree. With that he took a the long chain, wrapped one end around the base of the tree and locked it to itself, then with an unceremonious ‘click’ locked the ring on my collar to the other end. I wasn’t going anywhere without those envelopes. We started kissing and fondling each other – him rubbing my already soaking pussy and me stroking his already rigid cock. He plunged two fingers into me and began stroking by G-spot while sucking on my nipples. He could tell he was bringing be to the edge then he suddenly stopped, returning to the task at hand of completing my bondage. He drew my right foot up to my butt and took the hasp of a lock and drew it through the ring of my ankle cuff, he then pulled down on my wrist cuff and passed the hasp through its ring, thereby locking my wrist to my ankle. He then did the same on the other side. The effect was to severely limit my mobility, but to also spread my folded legs apart for easy access.
He then went down on me and started using some expert tongue action on my hole and clit. He eased two fingers in and started slowly pumping me while lapping at my love button. He could tell I was getting close to the brink once again and he, once again, backed off leaving me horny as hell. It was not long, however until his attentions turned toward my nether regions again, this time lubing up the large inflatable butt plug with his spit and slowly inching its way into my vagina. He then started lapping away as he started pumping the bulb five, ten, fifteen times! I was so full I thought I might burst but his tongue felt so good I gradually accommodated to the balloon within me.
He could see that I was getting close so he again stopped, and then crawled around me so as to be straddling my head. His cock was dangling enticingly before my mouth and within moments he started lowering himself into me, my lips and tongue embracing his tool. He started lapping at my clit, this time from above as he started to slowly face fuck me. I was getting really hot and felt an intruder at my last remaining hole. As Steve worked in the small anal plug the feeling of being totally full with all holes plugged sent me over the edge and I exploded in a climax, over and over again, that seemed to go on for nearly ever.
Steve kept slowly pumping and working me until I was spent, then climbed off me.
“My turn,” he said matter-of-factly. He reached under my armpits and lifted me up into a kneeling position. With that he turned away and I could hear the ratchet of the hinged handcuffs. When he faced me again, I could see that he had closed one cuff around the base of his cock and balls, with the other cuff dangling below. He walked up to me and pressed his cock against my lips. “Open wide,” he said and I did. Without the use of ones hands a blow job can be a lot harder for the blower, but it also can make it more erotic to the blowee. With that I could feel him doing something under my chin with my collar. The unmistakable sound of a handcuff ratchet closing and the tension of the collar on the back of my neck that moved with Steve’s movement could only mean one thing – he had locked the other bracelet of the cuffs to my collar and his cock wasn’t coming out of my mouth until we were disengaged. Without the keys (which were at home) the only way for us to separate was if Steve lost his erection and pushed himself out of his cuff. The only way that would happen is if I made him cum – we got to work, establishing a rhythm of oscillations where he would pull, then push, then pull then eventually splooge into my mouth. Although I swallowed some of the bitter fluid I let some run out of my mouth all over my chin and dripping onto my boobs.
After several minutes his erection subsided and he was able to extricate himself from the cuff which plopped onto my upper chest. I sat back down on my heels, wrists still pinned to my ankles and said, “OK big man, you’ve had your fun and I’ve had an early breakfast. Time to get out of here”. I then jabbered on about this and that and apparently this pushed one of Steve’s buttons as he grabbed my spider gag and the last lock from the dwindling pile of bondage goodies and proceeded to silence me from making intelligible sounds by placing the ring in my obediently open mouth , a firm tug on the neck strap and a click of the lock securing it in place.
“All in good time, my love,” he said. “In the meantime, let’s enjoy the silence of the predawn.”
I let out a snort in response, not being able to do much more gagged and trussed as I was. I already had a slight chill so I really did want to get moving as here was no telling when or if they would turn on the sprinklers and the last thing I wanted was to get soaked with cold water in the cooling morning air.
Finally Steve decided that my torture was complete and with great bravado he announced “The envelopes, please!” With that, he took an envelope, tore open an end, and slid the key into one hand. He then reached over to my collar, inserted the key into the lock that secured the chain and turned it. Nothing happened. “What are the odds of that happening?” I thought. “Must be pretty low.” Steve seemed to think the same thing as he tried the key on a couple of the other locks with the same result. In fact, the keys from the second, third and fourth envelope also didn’t work, too. Needless to say I was getting really anxious as he moved on to the fifth and final envelope. Needless to say I was really upset when that key didn’t work either.
“Holy fuck!” said Steve, indicating that he was none too pleased about this, too. So taking stock of our situation: I was trussed, gagged and chained to a tree on the 7th green of a private country club with the only keys to unlock me on a dresser at Steve’s home. Steve was naked with his clothes and keys to his car locked inside a duffle bag, the keys for which were the same ones as for my locks. It was nearly dawn and there was clearly the first signs of light in the eastern sky. This is not exactly what we had in mind, but it was the risk we were daring ourselves to encounter if none of the keys worked.
“But how could this have happened?” I wondered. My mind was racing. It must be that Steve had presorted the keys into those that did and didn’t work, and hadn’t gotten to the point of mixing then selecting at random the five to use for the adventure (as I had assumed). More importantly, how to get out of this?
Steve was already working that problem. “OK, two immediate issues,” he said. “ I’ve got to hide you, and then find some way to get into that duffle bag so I can get my clothes and car keys so I can get home and get the other keys and some bolt cutters, just in case the keys don’t work.”
With that he picked me up under my shoulders and knees, then made his way through the brush and bushes that bordered the green, laying me down softly in a clear area on the other side. He then went to work on the chain, making sure that it hugged the ground and gave me as much slack as possible. I don’t know if he tried to camouflage it on the other side with leaves or something but I hoped he had.
He gave me a deep tongue kiss through my gag and said “Sorry about this Sweetie. Assuming I don’t get arrested for public indecency, I probably won’t be able to get back to rescue you until tonight.”
Unfortunately, this made perfect sense to me as he could get held for trespassing if he was found crossing through someone’s yard to get to the course, or even being on the course during the daylight hours. I resigned myself for a very long, vulnerable, naked day with an unimaginable number of potential bad things that could happen to me between now and Steve’s rescue.
In a flash, Steve was gone, I was still mostly in darkness and I tried to get as comfortable as possible. Shortly thereafter I heard the hiss and chug-chug-chug of the green’s sprinkler system, but I was far enough away to avoid getting wet. There I was, laying on my back with my legs bent and spread, feet at my butt and hands at my ankles. I closed my eyes and despite my fears, my exhaustion led to a rapid and surprisingly sound sleep.
I awoke to the sounds of nearby voices. At first I was a bit disoriented but then quickly figured out that the events of last evening were neither dream nor nightmare, but reality. The sun was high in the sky so it must be late morning. The voices were just to the other side of the bushes and I could barely make out they were talking golf. Someone must have had a close putt because there was a collective “Oooooooh” and then a groan. I stayed frozen so as not to make a noise with my chain. After what seemed like an eternity they moved on and I heard them pack their golf carts and then whir away.
I decided to look around and rocked myself into a sitting position. What I saw was that I was staring, though my parted legs, into the backyard of house that bordered the golf course! Yikes!
Looking around I saw some cover to my left – a few large bushes that would shield me from a casual observer at the back of the house or even in the yard. How I hoped that today was not the day for their landscapers! I paused at the thought that my spread legs and pussy had been directed right at the yard for the whole morning!
Now, I rotated 180 degrees, sitting upright, my nether region pointed toward the golf course, but still shielded by bushes and brush from the green and players. I heard the unmistakable click of a golf club, some hollering from the players and then another collective groan. Just then I heard an approaching rustling and, to my horror, saw a golf ball rolling toward me under the bush and gently bounce off my pussy.
“What the hell do I do now?” I wondered. “Try and get hold of the ball and toss it back onto the green? Stay perfectly still and hope they don’t find me?”
Before I had much of a chance to think about it I heard action on the far side of the bushes that sounded like a golf club swishing though the brush and grass. Apparently the ball’s owner was looking for it, flattening the brush to see if it was hidden there. After a few minutes of this, my guts sank when I heard him say “Hey! Look. There’s some kind of a chain around this tree going into the woods!” I first heard then felt him pulling on the chain when I one of his friends yelled “Bill. Leave that fucking thing alone and get back to the game. Besides, there’s poison ivy all over here and who knows what it’s been sitting in.”
Bill muttered something under his breath and I felt the chain go slack. I then let out a long, slow sigh of relief – until I started thinking about poison ivy. Was that an itch I was feeling on my right butt cheek? If so, there was nothing I could do about it except scoot around on the matted grass beneath me. I scoured the area for any sign of poison ivy and didn’t see any of the characteristic leaves. “Must be my mind playing tricks on me,” I decided.
All that scooting about started to get my private parts worked up. I discovered that with a bit of contortion I was able move my wrists over the top of my shins to the inside of my ankles. With some further maneuvers I was able to get the fingers of one hand by my pussy and those of the other hand on a nipple. The sun was beating warmly, the erotic nature of my situation was starting to get to me and now I was in a position (literally and figuratively) to do something about it. I decided that the golf ball would make a nice toy and add a little further kink to the situation and lubed it up with my pussy juices and rubbed all over my groin until I came with a shattering orgasm. Thank God I was gagged as I’m sure my shrieks would otherwise have drawn unwanted attention to my nude, curled up form.
Something about an orgasm always makes me sleepy and today was no exception. I was also quite thirsty and parched. Fortunately, Steve had left a squeeze bottle of water with me and I was able to get it close enough to my mouth to take a few slugs and wet my whistle. I then reclined as the sun was descending into the western sky and, once again, fell fast asleep.
I wakened to the unmistakable and not totally unpleasant feel of a pair of hands groping my boobs. I opened my eyes but I was now immersed in darkness, yet could make out a masked figure dressed entirely in black, straddling my head leaning forward over my boobs. “Steve?” I tried to say but all came out was “eeeee?”
The figure unzipped his pants and lowered his body over mine, his now hard cock directed into by spider gag. It was too large to pass the ring so the best I could do was lick and suck the tip, but its owner seemed happy with the effect, with some quiet, soft moans. I felt his face at my pussy and he started some expert tongue work on me. He knew all the right spots and within minutes my hips were bucking against his mouth. I felt his body tighten, then fill my mouth with cum – unusually sweet cum. The thought that this probably wasn’t Steve put me over the edge and I exploded in wave after wave of pleasure.
With that, the figure stood up without a word, zipped up, then stole away into the night. “Who was that masked man,” I wondered to myself. “I wanted to thank him.”
Some time passed and I heard rustling and clinking from the bushes in front of me. “Now what, or who?” I wondered. “ A wild animal? Another anonymous fuck (which might not be so bad)? No, it was Steve – fully dressed in gray sweats and triumphantly holding the other end of my chain!”
“Eeeeeeeeeeeeeeee!” I exclaimed.
“Hi ya Sweetie. Miss me?” he asked as I saw him holding a key ring with what must have been nearly a hundred keys and he started to unlock my wrist cuffs from my ankle cuffs, then unlocked and removed my gag.
“Anything eventful happened during your captivity?” he asked.
“Surprisingly not, “ I lied while sucking down a fruit drink that he thoughtfully handed me. “Thanks for coming back for me,” I said as I reached over and gave him a big hug.
“Let’s gather up your stuff and get out of here,” he said.
“Hey, what about my cuffs and collar?” I asked somewhat indignantly.
“Good point, “ he replied. All at once he deftly reached over and pulled one then the other wrist behind me and with a click, I found that my hands were now bound behind my back! He dropped the key ring in the duffle bag with the gag and a lock, then locked the bag shut once again with the only obvious keys and the bolt cutter secured inside the bag!
“Sorry, don’t have anything for you to wear for the trip home,” he stated mater-of-factly. With a tug on the coiled chain he raised me to my feet and my only choice was to follow him back through the golf course as his naked, chained sex slave. On the way I tried to make idle chit-chat and knowing that our refrigerator was almost bare asked him if, at least, he found something to eat after leaving me last night.
“I’ve been living on those pineapple fruit juice boxes that were in the fridge since then. Couldn’t you tell?” he asked slyly.
We made our way back through the doc’s yard and to the side street. I was hesitant to cross as his parked car was well illuminated under a streetlight, but the pull on my collar was unyielding. He took his time unlocking the door, making me stand in the light for what seemed like an eternity. When Steve finally did open my car door it took me about a nanosecond to get in my seat and he obliged by locking my seatbelt in place. He fiddled with something in the trunk for a while and when he reappeared he was outfitted as the masked stranger, all in black.
Clearly I was being punished for not divulging my dalliance with the man-in-black to Steve and I knew I was in for a night of bondage and pleasurable retribution. Not saying a word, Steve just smirked as he put on his seatbelt.
I leaned over and whispered in his ear “I have one thing I wanted to tell you Mr. Masked Man -- Thank you,” and I gave him a smooch on the cheek.
And with that, he started and put the car in gear and we stole away into the night.