Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Grand Junction

by Ron McIngle

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© Copyright 2018 - Ron McIngle - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; outdoors; naked; rope; chain; cuffs; nipple; toys; insert; vibe; train; caught; M/f; video; blindfold; stuck; mast; climax; cons; X

Grand Junction, Colorado

Margie finished strapping the kayak down to the roof rack, then clipped the bicycle into the hitch carrier rack.  After making sure that all was secure she went back into the house to collect the last of the items that she would need.  The last step was to empty the ice maker into the ice chest.

From her house in Grand Junction, Colorado, it was a 32 mile drive to the miniscule town of De Beque along Interstate 70, which took only 25 minutes, given the 75 MPH speed limit.  From there it was a short drive down Old Highway 6 to where the highway crossed the Colorado River, where she left the bicycle locked to a tree.  Another 9 miles up Old Highway six was another spot where she could access the river, via the road that led to the stone quarry, where she parked the car and unloaded the kayak.  Within minutes she had transferred everything she needed into the storage compartment of the kayak and had started paddling downstream.

This is what made her assignment in Grand Junction, Colorado worth it! She was an outdoor type of girl, and this rugged countryside appealed to her. The peace and serenity that she experienced out here on the river more than made up for having to share a two bedroom duplex with a co-worker. She could certainly afford much nicer accommodations, but truth be told she enjoyed having company while she bankrolled a tidy sum.

She made good money, and living modestly in a town that had a median household income of $30k meant she could pay off her lingering student debt and even save up for an eventual return to her ‘hometown’. She had put her love life on hold ever since that disaster of a relationship back in Bakersfield, California and was comfortable leaving it that way. Grand Junction was big enough to have plenty of dating opportunities, but she had decided to just play it cool for a while as she had no intentions of getting involved with someone who lived in a place she didn’t plan to stay at. She had other ways to scratch the ‘itch’. 

Her job as a scientist for the oil industry often required her to be on site whenever key milestones in the drilling were met, which meant that her schedule had to be flexible, often working weekends. As a result, she often had mid-week days off.  Like today.

This far upstream the Colorado River is not the mighty river that had carved out the Grand Canyon.  It was more of a gentle stream, too shallow for motorized vessels, and too slow and gentle for a serious kayaker or anyone seeking white water rapids.  There was a significant summer tourist trade that would pay for the gentle float down the river but these were primarily on the weekend; there was rarely anyone else on the river mid-week, especially this early in May.

Margie chose this section of the river because the highway and Interstate curved miles away to the north while the river cut through a canyon to the south. As she paddled along all sight of civilization was hidden, and even the sound of the Interstate wasn’t audible over the sounds of nature. To the north, the terrain between the river and highway was rather steep and not easily traversed, even on foot.  To the south of the river lay uninhabited prairie that would have required traveling many miles of dirt roads to get even close. The only feasible means of accessing this area was via the river.

Margie paddled for an hour before she arrived at ‘her spot’.  The river actually split at this point, the faster water flowing to the south of a small island and a slower, almost backwater path flowing to the north.  Any experienced kayaker or rafter would take the southern path, as the water flowed much faster there and was deeper. Margie took the north path, scraping across the gravel bottom for a bit then wading through ankle deep water before beaching her kayak along the northern bank of the river. Within moments she had pulled the kayak up into the underbrush, hiding it from view of anyone who might come by.

The first thing she did was to strip off all her clothes. Next she applied a combination bug repellent and sun block, paying extra attention to the body parts that didn’t normally get direct sunlight. Now she relaxed as she wasn’t in a hurry, and it felt good to be naked in the great outdoors.

Her actual “spot” was a couple hundred feet further up where a good size tree stood. On a previous visit she had fastened a chain tight around one of the limbs, about 20 feet up, a feat that had required a rather scary climb of the tree.  She had used it twice since, and now it would be used for the fourth time. A two inch diameter steel ring was fastened to the chain, tight against the tree limb, and a length of rope passed through the ring tied into a continuous loop long enough to reach the ground.

This next part had varied with each visit, as Margie ‘refined’ the torments she would put herself through. On her first use she had simply tied her leather wrist cuffs to the rope and stood there until she got tired and released herself. That was fun, for a few minutes, but lacked the thrill of being helpless. On her next visit she had rigged an “ice timer”:  a small canvas bag that was filled with ice and was fastened to the rope passing through the ring, requiring that the ice melt before the bag would pull through.

That had worked better, but she was still tempted to just untie the knots and let herself loose. On her third visit she had added another length of chain:  The loop of rope passing through the ring had two small loops knotted it.  She pulled the rope ‘forward’ and clipped the chain to the first loop.  Then she pulled the rope ‘backward’ until the chain was snagging on the ring above.  Standing on tip-toe she could fasten the canvas bag to the second loop.  Pull the main loop forward again, assuring that the knot for the canvas bag and its ‘neck’ passed through the ring, only to be stopped by the bulk of ice in the bag. 

The far end of the chain was a good two feet out reach.  The free end of the chain now hung just above head height, which she passed through the D-rings on her cuffs then used a padlock to lock the end back to the chain, with the key hanging around her neck.  This worked delightfully, especially since she had used Zip ties to ensure that she didn’t just unfasten the buckles on the wrist cuffs.  She had also added two stakes pounded into the ground to which her ankles had been cuffed to.  Another torment was to add nipple clamps, which she had tightened only slightly as she wasn’t sure how long her torment would last. 

The first few minutes were a delightful thrill as a sense of real helplessness washed over her. The next few minutes were of frustration as she really wanted to touch herself. Then it became kind of boring.  Then she started to enjoy the peacefulness and beauty of her surroundings.  Then her fingers started going numb and she had to work them.  Then she was really tired of this whole thing and just wanted out and tugged and shook the chain in an attempt to speed the process up. By the time she did manage to pull the bag through (a total of 90 minutes) and reach the key that released her she swore she would never do that again.

But then her fingers touched the wet (and it was very wet) folds of her sex and she gasped in pleasure. Removing the nipple clamps sent a jolt of pain (even though they had only been lightly tightened) that shot straight to her pussy. The orgasm that followed was fantastic.

Still, she decided that once was enough, that she didn’t need the hour of boredom to get a few minutes of pleasure.  But that had been two weeks ago, and now she was back for more.

And she had a new torment to add to the mix.  A length of light chain wrapped around her waist then passed between her legs, to where it locked back to the waist chain.  The chain fastened to a vibrating butt plug, then to a vibrating dildo, and to a “butterfly” vibe that was now locked securely against her clit.  All three controls were set on ‘random’. The key that would release her from this bit of torture was back in her car, which wouldn’t be reached until she paddled another mile down river, then rode the bicycle she had stashed the nine miles back to her car. 

Margie ran through her mental checklist one more time:

Chain hanging from canvas bag with ice:  Margie reconsidered, as she had loaded it with twice the amount of ice than what she had used before.  Go for it! Check!

Key to lock around neck: Check!
Sunscreen and bug repellent applied:  Check!
Ankles cuffed and tied to stakes:  Check!
Vibrators in place and turned on:  Check!
Nipples clamped:  She thought about it some, then tightened each clamp until the pain was noticeable. CHECK!

Without any further delay she reached up and locked her wrist cuffs to the chain.

The thrill she felt as the lock snapped shut was indescribable. Just the knowledge that for the next, how long?  She didn’t even know.  Hour and a half?  Two hours?  Longer? However long, she was helpless! Not knowing exactly how long only added to the thrill. The slight pain in her nipples, which she knew would grow more intense over time, was exciting. The melting ice dripped onto her head, a form of water torture all its own. And the vibrators!

She hadn’t intended nor expected a climax, but it was less than 5 minutes in that the first one washed over her. Oh, GOD that felt good!  As the excitement waned the reality of her predicament became clear and she started second guessing her decisions.  What if someone came along?  The small stand of trees sheltered her from view of the river, and her kayak was well hidden, but what if some tourist rafters decided to stop and have lunch here?

Margie tried picking at the ZIP ties that prevented her from unbuckling the wrist cuffs, but it was useless.  Tugs and struggles against the cuffs holding her legs spread wide were equally futile. A fly, somehow immune to the insect repellent, kept landing on various parts of her body. After a half an hour of struggling the effects of the vibrators started becoming arousing once again. This time Margie helped the climax along the best she could, thrusting her hips and gyrating any way she could, working against the chain so that it would increase the pleasure.  The second orgasm was just as good as the first.

Now Margie was really ready to be released. She had no watch or other way of telling time but she was guessing it had been over an hour.  She looked up at the bag of ice and could see that it had a ways to go before it could pass through the ring. She pulled at the chain and shook it back and forth, figuring that any motion would fan air across the ice making it melt faster.

That’s when she heard the distant blare of a train horn.  Margie was puzzled, as she had checked the train schedules many times and there shouldn’t be a train at this time.  While the Interstate and old highway were located more than ½ a mile away, the train tracks were less than 50 yards above where she stood.  Which meant that she would be visible to the train. 

Margie frantically pulled at the chain, trying to yank the bag through the ring.  If she could just get enough slack she could fall to the ground and probably avoid detection.  By now she could hear the rumble of the wheels on the track, and realized that it was coming fast.  This was bad news, very bad news.  The freight trains ran slowly through this section, only the passenger trains went fast.

Margie’s fears were realized less than a minute later when train came into view. Her worst fears were confirmed when the Amtrak “California Zephyr” came into view, heading eastbound. No, she thought; the schedule called for the train to stop at Grand Junction at 10:23 AM, which was only 30 miles away. That train should have passed here hours ago, before she had even started paddling down the river!

The engine was just about even with her when it gave another long blast of its horn.  Margie couldn’t see the engineers well enough to tell if they were looking at her and if that blast was for her benefit. The windows of all the passenger cars were tinted dark so she couldn’t see in, but she was sure that they could see out quite well.  Passengers, watching the scenery roll by, admiring the view of the Colorado River.  And a naked woman hanging from a tree.

The fear, humiliation, and excitement pushed her over the edge to a third and even greater climax!

Margie was relieved when the train continued on without stopping. Twenty minutes later the ice bag slipped through the ring and she literally fell to the ground.  First order of business was to remove the nipple clamps, which were now hurting considerably. The pain was searing as the blood rushed in and Margie cried out. Unlike previous times, she did NOT linger to satisfy her lust; she hurriedly dressed, packed up her stuff and started paddling down the river again.  She didn’t want to be around if the local sheriff was notified. She could just imagine the engineer dialing 911 to report a woman being held hostage.

At her brisk pace it was only twenty minutes to where the river crossed under old highway 6 and where her bicycle was stashed. Leaving her kayak locked to the tree she started off on the 9 mile ride up to where her car was parked.

The chain locked around her waist had prevented her from removing the vibrators but at least she had been able to turn them off.  Now that she was riding the bicycle the seat pressed against the butt plug; pedaling worked against the dildo and butterfly vibe. Margie tried to ignore them, focusing on getting to her car then back to retrieve her kayak before anyone came to investigate. When she arrived at her car, however, her need was great so she turned the vibrators back on and reached under her Tee shirt to massage her tender nipples. Her other hand reached under the waistband of her shorts and started tugging on the chain, causing her fourth orgasm of the day.

It was a relief to get the key and remove the chain from around her waist.  It was an even greater relief to retrieve her kayak and make it safely home. Countless Internet searches conducted over the following week turned up no mention of, or pictures of, a naked woman tried to a tree.

It appeared as if she had gotten away with it. The days immediately after that experience she had sworn off ever doing anything like that ever again. But now the memory of how thrilling it was, including the terror of being discovered, was exciting her and feeding her nightly masturbations. Exposing herself to a train full of people simply wasn’t a good idea, but what if she could manage that?  Even better, what if the threat of such an exposure could be used as an incentive?  She was a scientist, after all, so surely she could come up with a release mechanism that required her to perform some sort of task! A task, which if she didn’t complete on schedule, would have some dire consequences.

* * *

Sheriff Rob Cox paddled his canoe down the river, stopping occasionally to compare the picture he had been given to the current surroundings. The low resolution video that Amtrak had provided was focused on the track directly ahead, not the features off to the side so the details were vague at best. He finally came to a bend in the river where the water flow divided around a small island.  There, to the north, stood a tree that looked as if it could be the one in question.

He now stood under the tree, trying to puzzle out the loop of rope fastened through a ring that was chained to a branch. That, and the two stakes in the ground, seemed to support the claim that a woman had been tied here. There were multiple sets of tracks leading from this spot back to the river, some recent, some obviously older.  Was this the work of a serial rapist?

What he didn’t see were any tracks leading off in any other direction other than the river.  Regardless, he conducted a search of the nearby area, looking for any signs of bodies, buried or otherwise. It had been two days since Amtrak officials had alerted him to a possible assault taking place, so if the victim had been killed the rotting corpse should be fairly obvious. The river itself was too shallow to effectively hide a dead body, especially with the rafters that plied this section of the river every weekend.

This troubled him deeply, as clearly there was something going on here. There had been no reports of assault, nor a missing person report that he was aware of, so he didn’t know for sure that a crime had been committed. Still, better safe than sorry.

It was just a few minutes work to set up the game camera, fastened to a smaller tree a short distance away. The small plastic box was camouflaged so that it would be difficult to spot, and featured motion activated triggers would snap pictures whenever anything wandered into view. He would simply leave it for a while and check what it may have captured later.

* * *

Margie bit her paddle into the water and stroked firmly, propelling her away from the bank and out into the main flow of the river. As soon as she was sufficiently far away from the road she paused long enough to remove her bikini top, stashing it down inside the kayak’s hull. She technically should have been wearing a life vest, but the water was only knee deep in most places so she had been leaving the life vest in the car the last few times. The warmth of the early morning sun felt good against her skin, and once she started paddling in earnest she would be warm enough. It felt good to be topless, and just enough ‘naughty’ to augment the anticipation of what was to come.

She had started her escapade a bit earlier this morning so that she would have more time to prepare. She had also checked the train status, making sure that the Zephyr had been on time, or at least it had been when it left Helper, Utah at 6:37 AM.  Thus, she had her ‘improvements’ all in place when the eastbound train appeared, right on schedule at 11:25 AM. Margie hid behind the tree until it was out of sight, then set about her plan. She would have 3 -1/2 hours before the westbound train was due. While it was easy for a train to be late, there is no way it could be any significant amount early.

Margie considered waiting an hour or two, just to increase the stakes. She had tried each piece of her new additions individually, but not all at once.  She didn’t expect there to be a problem, but better safe than sorry.

Like last time, she was naked, sun block and repellent applied. The chain was locked around her waist, trapping the vibrators in place, the controls strapped to the waist chain. The stakes weren’t to be used: instead a length of old broom stick would be used to keep her legs spread wide.

The first significant change was with regards to the nipple clamps.  She had a 10 foot length of fiberglass tent pole she had salvaged from a trash can, to which she attached 1 pound fishing weights at each end. This ‘balance beam’ then attached to the nipple clamps by the simple means of using duct tape to secure the chain connecting the clamps to the tent pole. The weight alone added a bit of torture, but was tolerable as long as she stood still.  Any quick movements, however, and the considerable leverage of the weights at the ends of the pole would tug savagely at her nipples. The flexibility of the tent pole allowed for the weights to bounce a fair amount under even slow movements, ensuring that she would be tormented.

The next major enhancement was the release mechanism. There was still the ice release, but it was now delegated to backup, and had been loaded with almost twice as much ice as before.  If she wanted to ensure her release before the westbound train appeared, all she had to do was unscrew a 6” long eyebolt that threaded into a bar that was attached to the chain, just above her reach. 

It was very simple; all she had to do was turn around to unthread the rod.  Nothing to it, except the fact that her ankles were spread wide, and any sudden move would torture her nipples! If she couldn’t move fast enough, or if the tug on her nipples became too great, she could wait until the ice melted and the entire contraption would come down.  Which may happen before the train arrived, or it may not.

She had used about an hour of her time just getting set up, but now she was ready.  Wrist and ankle cuffs were locked on, the tent pole with nipple clamps and weights lay at her feet, which were spread wide waiting to be attached to the broomstick. Zip ties through the ankle cuff D-rings secured her ankles in place, with 6 inches of broomstick extending on each side. She lifted the tent pole up, attached one then the other clamp and gently lowered the pole until her nipples took the weight. The chain was wrapped through the D-rings on her wrist cuffs, then passed through the shackle of the lock hanging on the chain above her.

The click of the lock, signaling that her fate was sealed, sent an even greater rush through her. She took her first tentative step, mostly on her tip-toes, struggling against the spreader bar.  With her legs spread wide her steps where very short and very jerky, resulting in very painful yanks on her nipples when the motion was transferred to the tent pole.

Margie quickly decided that a different approach was required. Pulling down hard on her wrists she managed to transfer all her weight to one foot, lifting the other clear of the ground and then slowly swinging it in an arc before gently setting the foot down again. The tent pole swayed and dipped, but not nearly as bad as before.

The stakes that were still pounded into the ground added additional obstacles that had to be cleared. She would rotate around until encountering a stake, then lean far to one side to lift the spreader bar above it.  She cleared that obstacle, only to have the opposite side contact the other stake moments later.  This process was repeated half way through when she again encountered the stakes again.

Whew! Margie thought when she had completed one revolution. How long had that taken?  The second time around she counted:  One alligator, two alligator. She had counted up to 40 alligators before she made the second turn. 

Uh-oh.  When she had tried this out in her bedroom she didn’t have the nipple clamps, and it had only taken 10 seconds to make a turn. Margie ran the calculations again:  the eyebolt had twenty threads per inch, so 6 inches would require 120 turns. 40 seconds was 2/3 of a minute, so at that pace it would take 80 minutes to accomplish the task, or about one and quarter hours. She had endured the nipple clamps for an hour once before, which had been at rest with no weight attached, and when it was time to remove them it was agonizing!

The realization of how long it would take, added with the torment on her nipples, plus the vibrators incessant stimulation brought her to her first orgasm, which was terrific! She probably lost two minutes just savoring the feeling. Realizing this would take too long she changed tactics:  Pulling up on her wrists she lifted herself off the ground, similar to doing a chin-up. With her feet clear of the ground (and the stakes) she would twist her lower body before lowering herself back down.  Thus she could make nearly half a turn at one time.

  As she continued her task her feet began to cramp, and the pain in her nipples increased, forcing her to slow down. She pressed on, encouraged by the sight of the rod nearing the end.

At last she made a final turn and the eyebolt fell free, nearly hitting her on the head. She fumbled with the lock for a few seconds before finally releasing her hands. She immediately reached for the pole attached to her nipples, and carefully loosened the clamps. The pain was intense, and oh so exquisite! She dropped into the dirt, her ankles still spread wide, and reached for her pussy, caressing the labia where it wrapped around the chain. Her other hand ever so gently caressed her tender nipples.

Her climax came slowly but was powerful! Right at the peak she pinched a nipple, screaming loudly. Oh, it felt good! The sun, now shining under the canopy of the tree, felt delicious against her naked skin. Her pussy throbbed and her nipples pulsed with a mild pain with every beat of her heart.

She was still laying there when she heard the horn of the westbound train. Still shackled to the spreader bar she decided her best bet was to scoot on her butt to reach the tree trunk and hide behind it. If someone knew just where to look they might get a glimpse of her back, but nothing obvious or identifiable, nor would they know she was naked. Just someone resting after a swim in the river.

She left the hardware stashed in the bushes and started her trip home. She decided to remain topless for most of the paddle down the river, putting her top on once the bridge at Highway 6 came into view.  She also turned the vibrators back on, experiencing another orgasm while paddling.  She was already dreaming up more enhancements, for next time.

* * *

Sheriff Rob Cox could immediately tell that someone had been there since his last visit. He searched around and found a couple of items that he was sure wasn’t there last time:  An old broomstick with a couple hose-clamps at each end, what looked like a tent pole with weights at each end, a length of chain and a long eyebolt.  The spot under the tree had very peculiar markings; it looked as if someone had walked in a very tight circle.  There were also marks that looked like a body had been laid down. 

He documented everything with his cell phone camera and then went to retrieve the memory card from the game camera, swapping it with a fresh one.  He wished that he could look the images immediately, but he would need his laptop for that. He replaced the batteries with fresh ones, and moved the camera a little closer to the area where the action seemed to be centered. He couldn’t move it too close without making it obvious.

Later that evening, Rob clicked through the dozens of pictures that had been taken just two days prior. Sure enough, there was a woman tied to the tree.  What was surprising was that there was no one else that appeared in any of the pictures. The pictures weren’t quite close enough to be able to identify the woman using any of the facial recognitions systems that were available, but they would be sufficient for someone who knew her to provide identification.  But there was still no missing person report.

Margie looked around, assured herself that there was no one about then stripped naked, locking her clothes in the car.  She had left a tee-shirt, shorts and her shoes where she had stashed her bicycle, so now she was committed to being naked for a while. It felt gloriously naughty, especially the fear/knowledge that if she did encounter someone she would be totally incapable of covering herself!

Her ‘improvements’ for this time was a heavy duty bungee cord.  She figured that her ‘chin-up’ strategy had been cheating; the idea was to force herself to hobble about and torture her nipples! Swapping the chain out for a heavy duty rubber bungee cord fixed that! She could still pull her wrists down to chin level, but the bungee cord just stretched, she couldn’t lift herself off the ground. The bungee cord would also twist more than the chain did, requiring a number of turns before enough torque was generated to turn the eye bolt. She compensated by only threading the eyebolt in half way.

Sheriff Rob Cox was amused by the images from his game camera. The last three checks had turned up nothing, but this time it was pay dirt!  The pictures were a little closer and clearer, but still not good enough for facial recognition, which might not turn up anything anyway. It did, however, make it obvious that this woman was doing this to herself.  No major crime involved her.  Possibly a misdemeanor (indecent exposure) so he figured it was his civic duty to continue to investigate.  He still had no idea who this woman was, but it was clear that she accessed the spot via the river.  There were a number of possible put in / take out spots, he would just have to figure out which one she used.  He could borrow another game camera and stake them out, one at a time.

* * *

Margie wondered if, just perhaps, this escalation was a bit unhealthy! Not yet, she decided. She was a diligent, hard worker and this hobby was not interfering with her job.  She also liked the all over even tan she was developing.

There were a couple of enhancements this time.  The chain that wrapped around her waist then between her legs, which held the vibrators in place, no longer was locked in place.  The chain was a bit longer now, with the ‘free’ end slipped under the waist chain at the small of her back such that pulling up on the end tightened the chain against her crotch.

The bungee cord hung down from the eyebolt, just like last time, except now a pulley was attached at the end of the bungee cord.  Instead of locking her wrist cuffs directly to the bungee cord it locked to a loop at the end of a rope, which passed through the pulley and tied to the free end of the chain that passed between her legs. 

Now every step she took, as well as every breeze that moved the tree, pulled up on the chain passing between her legs. In the beginning this just added pressure against the vibrators. As she unthread the eyebolt it generated slack in the chain, if she stood tall and lifted her hands.  The ‘problem’ with that is when it tightened up again the chain tended to pinch her tender skin! That was a major incentive to keep a steady downward pull, which turned out to be quite a workout!

* * *

Sheriff Rob Cox compared the timestamps between the pictures taken at the ‘tree’ versus the pictures taken at the put in point next to the rock quarry.  Sure enough, a dark blue SUV had pulled in that appeared to have a lone female passenger. Roughly an hour later a woman is tying herself to the tree.  Not solid enough evidence that would hold up in court, but this matter wasn’t going to be settled in court!

First, he had to catch her in the act! The problem was that her schedule had been so erratic that is was impossible to predict when she might be there, and he couldn’t justify taking time each day to go check.  Fortunately, the put in point had cellular coverage, and his buddy had a game camera that would send captured images to his phone.  All he had to was to wait until the game camera sent him a picture of a dark blue SUV arriving at the put in point.  That was making the assumption that she would use the same put in point, but people were creatures of habit.

* * *

It was only a minor enhancement this time:  she added a blindfold. Not just some elastic band thing that she could rub off if she wanted.  No, she had wrapped her head in an elastic bandage, then wrapped that with a length of duct tape.

Her nipples must be getting tough, it wasn’t hurting as much. Or perhaps she was just getting better and hobbling around with her ankles held wide apart. So she had threaded the eye bolt in ¾ of the way instead of only half.

A blindfold seems like such a simple thing, but it turned out to be quite a deal.  As she made her turn the bungee cord would twist.  The downward pull she kept on the cord to prevent the chain from pinching her also made the eye bolt resist turning. Before, when she would see that she had enough twist she would stop and ease up enough to let the bolt turn.  Now she had to judge it based on the torque she could feel through the wrist cuffs.

The blindfold also made things ‘spookier’. Every rustle of leaves from the wind made her worry about wild animals. Every fish that jumped in the river sounded just like a paddle biting into the water.

Being able to watch her progress had also been a comfort. Now, she wasn’t sure if that eye bolt really was unscrewing or not. When the eye bolt did come loose she was unprepared and lost her balance, falling onto her back in the dirt. It felt like her nipples were being torn off, but she was thankful that she had fallen backward instead of forward.

Sherriff Cox was beginning to see a pattern.  Always mid-week.  Each time the setup was a bit different. If she continued to use the blindfold it would open up some interesting possibilities.

* * *

Now she was in the strappado position, arms cuffed behind her back, tied up to the eyebolt, forcing her to bend at the waist. What made this position feasible was the “ratchet pulley”, a marvelous item for self-bondage as it allowed a rope to be pulled one direction and then held it there. She was bent more than the strappado really required, however, but that was due to another enhancement.  The 1 pound weights on the tent pole had been replaced with quart soda bottles filled with water, about two pounds each.  These were dangling from the ends of the pole on short cords, just long enough to allow her to rest them on the ground, if she bent far enough over.

The chain that went around her waist and between her legs was also fastened to the eyebolt. Being bent over that far resulted in slack in the chain passing between her legs, so she would frequently get pinched when she straightened up so she could twist her upper body. The blindfold made it even more disorienting and she occasionally lost her balance, only to be kept from falling by the rope/bungee cord, which yanked at her crotch, which, well that felt good!  At least when the chain didn’t pinch her.

Her first few attempts at turning had been very painful! She had tried straightening up far enough to lift the water bottles off the ground, which put a little over four pounds hanging from her nipples. With the bottles clear she attempted to move as smoothly as possible, but with the spreader bar her movements were jerky. The resulting motion set the bottles swaying wildly, tugging on her nipple fiercely.

YEOOWW! That approach wasn’t going to work! After a few more failed experiments she found that she could leave the bottles resting on the ground as she shuffled her feet around, twisting her upper body.  The jerky motion still shook the pole attached to her nipples a fair amount, but with the additional weight off-loaded it was bearable. With her upper body pre-twisted she could then lift the bottles off the ground, twist her upper body and then lower the bottles back down.

Whew! That wasn’t so bad, the weight was only on her nipples for a few seconds. A chance to catch her breath, a few moments to ready herself, and the process repeated.

* * *

 “You are in a heap of trouble, missy!” Sherriff Rob said, using a fake southern accent.

“WHAT!?” Margie exclaimed as she attempted to jerk upright.  The involuntary startle cost her dearly as the long pole attached to her nipples yanked terribly.  That was followed by the chain biting cruelly into the soft tissue of her labia as she had allowed slack to enter the system.  “WHO’S THERE?”

“You could say that I am the law about these parts.” Sherriff Rob said.  He was considering the fact that she couldn’t see him and thus couldn’t identify him. His voice impersonations were good enough that she would be unlikely to identify him from his normal voice. There were some interesting possibilities here.

“What are you doing here?”

“Investigating.  Got a report of some suspicious activity going on here. Seems the Amtrak engineer spotted a woman being tortured.”

“Oh, well,” Margie stammered.  “I am fine.  I am not in trouble.  Really. You can go now. Thank you for your concern.”

“Well, you see, it’s a bit more complicated than that.” Sherriff Rob answered, drawing out the word ‘complicated’. “You see, there are laws being broken here.”

“What laws?” Margie asked, getting a bit frantic now.

“Weeeellll, indecent exposure for one. I wouldn’t be here at all if it weren’t for you exposing yourself to the train.  There’s families on the train.  Little kids.  Can’t be having stuff like that.”

“I’m sorry, that was a mistake!  I’ve been careful since, know where the trains are!”

“Well, if a tree falls in the forest, and no one’s around, does it make a noise?  You’re still naked, exposing yourself to anyone who happens by.  And now here I am.”

“Oh, great, a philosopher!” Margie complained. “Instead of debating the theory of noise, why don’t you let me loose and I’ll cover up?”

“Now how are you going to do that? I checked your kayak, there ain’t any clothes there or anywhere abouts. Not even a life jacket, which is another law you’ve broken. Not to mention trespassing.”


“Yes, once you climbed up out of the river bottom you entered land owned by the railroad.”

“Then just let me loose.  The key is at the base of the tree.”

“Well, I ain’t sure that’s the right thing for me to do.  Ya see, the judge might consider that aiding and abetting. Got to be careful here or I could derail the court case.  I don’t want to touch or disturb anything, it contaminates the evidence you see.”

“Jeeze!  So I have to keep going? And you’re just going to watch?”

“I got a duty to make sure you are safe. Besides, if I understand this contraption, your more than half way there.”

“I started with the eye bolt half way out!”

“Then you best get moving.  Don’t want to still be here when the westbound train comes by.”

Margie grunted in frustration but continued at the task of releasing herself. It was humiliating, yet strangely arousing to know she had an audience.

“Look, can’t you just let me off with a warning?  Does this have to go to court?”

“Crimes need to be punished.”

“Perhaps there is some other punishment other than court?  I could do some community service or something.” Margie huffed out as she continued making her circles.

“Community service?  That don’t sound right to me. When I was a kid, my Pa caught my sister sunbathing wearing this tiny bikini he didn’t approve of.  He took a belt to her backside, whupped her pretty good.  And she wasn’t totally naked like you are.”

“A belt, to the backside.” Margie said softly, her knees almost buckling at the thought. Her last relationship had fallen apart when she had confessed her desire to get spanked, and her boyfriend called her a freak. “Okay.”

“What was that?” Sherriff Cox said, so startled by this development that he momentarily dropped out of his false accent.

“I said okay.  If you let me go, I will agree to the belt to my backside.”

“Well, that is an interesting offer.” Sherriff Cox mused. “Might get me in trouble though.”

“Why would you get in trouble?”

“I mean, here you are, all helpless and shit. A guy comes along, takes his belt off, starts whipping you.  A judge might consider that improper.”

“I won’t tell anyone!”

“So you say now!”

“Well, isn’t it improper for you to just sit there and watch? What will the judge think of that?”

“I would argue that you had intended for me to watch. Just doing what you intended!”

“What makes you think I intended for you to watch?”

“You are on public land next to a railroad track and a well-travelled river. You let yourself be seen by a train full of passengers at least once before, and here you are again!”

“ARRGHH!” Margie cried in frustration. “Of all the stupid . . .”

She continued to mumble, half under her breath as she resumed the slow rotations.

“You realize that you are going the wrong way?” Sherriff Cox advised after twenty minutes had passed.

“What?” Margie gasped.

“Yep, threaded almost all the way in now.”

“Oh, crap!” She thought about it, and realized he was right. Being bent over in that position reversed her view of things so now it wasn’t “righty tighty, lefty loosey”.  She had to turn in what she perceived as a clockwise direction.  She had known that, and had rehearsed it before she put the blindfold on and locked herself in. When the sheriff had interrupted her, however, she reverted back to the incorrect direction.

Her nipples were really starting to hurt now, and the strappado position was proving to be much more tiring than she had expected. She can do this, she told herself, and set to the task.

After what seemed like hours she had counted 100 revolutions. How much farther did she have to go?  There were only 120 turns worth of thread on the eyebolt, so she had to be getting close. Her nipples were in agony and even her pussy was getting sore. Margie paused, unsure if she could even go on, wondering when the ice would melt and provide her alternate form of release.

Then there was the unmistakable sound of a far off train horn.

“Oh no!” Margie gasped, and started struggling as fast as she could. 

“Hang tight there, missy!”

Sherriff Cox, realizing that she wasn’t likely to get herself free in time, reached up and started twisting the eyebolt out himself. The first few turns were easy as the bungee cord had several full twists in it that was required to get the torque to make the bolt turn. After that it was a bit of an effort as he was winding up a sizable rubber band. When the bolt finally came free it snapped loose, hitting Margie in the back.  The sudden loss of the pull caused her to fall face first into the dirt, which caused the nipple clamps to be very painfully yanked off her nipples.

The scream was intense and loud!

The train was still out of sight, but rapidly approaching. Sherriff Cox looked at the still helpless woman; her hands were still tied behind her back and her feet were spread wide. Blindfolded like she was he wondered how she would ever find the key that would release her hands. In an act of desperation he grabbed her under both arms and dragged her behind the tree. He sat down, his back to the tree, pulling her down on top of him so they were both out of sight. Moments later the Amtrak rumbled by.

“Now, see Missy.” He scolded. “If I had left you alone you would have committed another serious crime right there!”

“I would have gotten free if you hadn’t been distracting me!”

“Maybe.  Maybe Not.”

“Thank you.” She sighed. “But haven’t you disturbed the evidence now?”

“Suppose I have.  Suppose I might have to let you off this time.”

“OH NO!” Margie gasped.


“You don’t have to preserve the evidence! That means you could do anything you wanted to me! You could take advantage of me, spank me, and fuck me, and there would be nothing I could do!”

“Relax, I am not going to spank or fuck you!”

“Well, WHY NOT?” Margie demanded, banging her head against his chest in frustration. “Don’t you read the stories on the internet? Don’t you know that when a guy finds a helpless woman all tied up that he is supposed to spank and fuck her brains out?”

“Well, for one reason, I ain’t got no condoms!” he replied.

“Oh.” Margie said. 

“And there is still that question of consent. Now.” He said as he lifted her off him so he could stand up. “I am going to put that key in your hand so that you don’t have any issues getting yourself loose.  Will you be able to manage after that?”

“Yes Sir.”

“Now, if you know what’s best for you then you won’t be doing anything like this again. Understand?”

“Yes Sir!” Margie agreed enthusiastically.

“Now you just lay here a minute while I get myself going.” Sherriff Cox told her as he placed the key into her hand.

“Yes Sir!”

She waited until she heard the scrape of his canoe launching into the water before she started working the key into the lock. As soon as her hands were free one hand went to her crotch and the other to her breasts. The nipples were so delightfully tender and her clit so eager for attention that her orgasm was almost instantaneous.

When she finally got to her bicycle she found a yellow sticky note stuck to her seat that read:

“Be sure to keep the blindfold. If there happened to be condoms and a whip lying about; if I were the judge I would consider that a form of consent! ”

Margie smiled and started making plans for next time.

* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

Author’s note:  The people in this story are fictional.  The places mentioned are real. A few months ago I went on a train trip, starting in California and going to Colorado.  It’s a very nice trip, I recommend it. As I was watching the scenery go by I spotted a place that just called out to me as a great spot to do some outdoor, self-bondage. The tracks, the tree, the river, they are actually there. Perhaps someone does use that spot.
Ron McIngle

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