Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Igor & Ivan

by Zack

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© Copyright 2002 - Zack - Used by permission

Storycodes: sbf; bondage; reluct/cons; X

Kristen's Story
Igor and Ivan
by Zack
Copyright© 2001, 2002

I'd been living in Arizona for about three months when I decided to take advantage of the good weather and do some outdoor self-bondage. It was mid-September, but even here in the northern part of the state the daytime temperatures were in the 70's. If I were still back in Minnesota I'd freeze my butt off if I tried going outside without any clothes on this time of year, and for me a lot of the thrill is the chance that I'll be discovered chained and naked. 

I'm a diesel mechanic, and I work at a big truck stop on the Interstate. I'm the only woman in the shop, but the other mechanics are friendly and treat me as one of the group. There are some machine tools at work that I could use to make what I needed, because when I moved I'd left all of my bondage equipment with my ex-boyfriend. 

I've never liked using police-type handcuffs. I like to struggle, and handcuffs can produce some nasty bruises. Also, one time I'd fallen on a cuff and it got really tight. By the time I got loose my hand was purple, and I was lucky that I didn't get some permanent damage. I based the design of my new restraints on the medieval bilboe, which uses U-shaped metal straps with holes near the open end of the U. A strap is slid over a wrist or ankle and held in place by a bar that goes through the holes. In olden times both wrists, both ankles, or all four were attached to the same bar, (I'm going to try that some time), but mine were going to be closed by separate bolts. 

I bought some steel at Ace Hardware. It was 3/16 inch thick and 1 1/2 inch wide, and after measuring my wrists and ankles and making some cardboard templates I cut the steel to length, heated it with a torch, and bent it into shape. After some adjustments I marked the position of the bolt holes and drilled them on a drill press. Then I trimmed off the extra length and smoothed everything on a tool grinder. I did the whole job during a few lunch hours, and I was pleased with the result. The cuffs were so close-fitting that there was no way to slip out of them, but there wasn't any pressure that might interfere with circulation. 

Using bolts allowed me to fasten the cuffs without using a lot of padlocks, which is another thing I've never liked. I know that some people like to have a whole bunch of keys to sort through or scatter around, but I prefer to use just one lock. To fasten the ankle cuffs I made some short pieces of small-diameter pipe that fit inside the top of the U. This provided the support that I needed to tighten the nut, using two wrenches. To fasten the wrist cuffs I drilled a small hole crosswise through the threads near the end of the bolt. After I threaded a nut on the bolt I put a diaper safety pin through this hole. Diaper safety pins are like ordinary safety pins, except that they have a sliding cover that can be closed to keep the pin from opening. They are easy to open using fingers, but they can't be opened by just pressing on them. Once a pin was in place the nut wouldn't come off the bolt. 

To fasten my ankles I got a piece of chain about five feet long. I bolted a cuff on my left ankle with the end link over the pipe, measured off about eight inches, and put that link around the pipe on my right cuff. The other end of the chain would be fastened around my neck later. 

I got some more chain and cut a piece that reached around my waist with a little over. I locked this around my waist with the padlock over my spine, put my hands behind my back with my wrists against the chain, and moved them until my fingertips just touched. I marked the links that were opposite my wrists and unlocked the chain. I slid a cuff over my left wrist with the open end near my little finger and put a bolt through the holes with one of the marked links around the bolt. Then I did the same with my right wrist and the other marked link. It was easy to do all this because I was working in front and had lots of slack in the chain. 

Once the cuffs were on my wrists I put the padlock though one end of the chain and put my hands around my back. I took the padlock in one hand and the end of the chain in my other hand, sucked in my gut, put the hasp of the padlock through the farthest link it would reach, and clicked it shut. As long as the padlock was closed my hands were welded to my waist, because my fingers couldn't touch the diaper pins. 

* * * 

Once I was satisfied with the chains, I was ready for my adventure. On Tuesday, my regular day off, I drove out to a region where juniper trees made up most of the vegetation. These 'trees' are rarely taller than twenty feet and they are widely spaced, but they are thick enough to cut visibility down to a hundred feet or so. They are found in areas where the available moisture is not quite enough to support pine trees, and these regions aren't used much even during the peak of the tourist season, because the pine forests are so much nicer. I figured that in mid-September, and in the middle of the week, I could find someplace that was sure to be deserted. 

At about nine o'clock I turned off the highway onto a dirt road, drove about five miles, and stopped where a dry stream bed, called a 'wash' out here, crossed the road. When I turned off the engine and got out of the car I felt a sense of isolation. All I could hear were some birds; I hadn't seen another car or even the dust raised by one. I felt I was totally alone. 

I had everything I needed in a daypack. I checked that the padlock was open, and put one padlock key in a magnetic keyholder that I put under the rear bumper. I put another key under a rock near the front of the car. I thought it was unlikely that the car would be stolen out here, but better safe, etc. 

I walked up the wash for about twenty minutes. I calculated that it would take me at least four times that long to walk back once my ankles were chained. I couldn't see the car or the road, but I knew that if I stayed in the wash I couldn't get lost, and it would be easier to walk here, too. 

I got everything out of the daypack and took off all of my clothes except for my shoes and socks. I sat down and used the wrenches to fasten the cuffs and chain on my ankles, and then put my clothes and the wrenches in the daypack and zipped it closed. There was a loop sewn to the top of the daypack, and I put the end of the chain through this loop. I fastened the end of the chain around my neck with a bolt, two washers, a nut, and a diaper pin, making sure that the daypack's loop was inside the loop around my neck. I adjusted the daypack so that it was between my shoulder blades and its contents would now be inaccessible until I got my hands free. 

I thought I heard something and stopped to listen, but it was just a flock of birds taking flight somewhere close by. I picked up the gag I was going to use. I made it by rolling a whiffle ball in a scarf, with knots in the scarf to hold it in place. Most people use ball gags, but I won't use any gag that I can't breathe through unless somebody is with me; I don't want a stuffy nose to become a life-threating illness. After the gag was tied in place I pinched my nose to check if I could get air though it. There wasn't a lot, but any is better than none. 

I put my wrists in the cuffs and reached around my back with the padlock. I always pause before making the final commitment and ask myself if I really want to do this. It seemed OK, so I closed the padlock and struggled to my feet; the chain around my neck kept me hunched over like Quasimodo. I started walking back down the wash. 

I quickly found out two things: A. I had fastened my ankles closer together than I had planned to, and B. Sand isn't that easy to walk in when you've got to take real short steps. I hadn't gone fifty feet when I tripped and fell. I rolled and managed to fall on my right shoulder and arm instead of on my face, and luckily I didn't hit any rocks so I wasn't hurt. Then I found that: C. It was going to be hard to get up. I was about to try when I heard something and froze. 

A voice said, "Look, Igor. This must be the slave girl that escaped from the caravan last night. Blond beauty like this is rarely found out here on the steppe." 

I twisted around until I located the speaker, who was a boy of fourteen or so. I'm not that good at estimating ages, but his voice had that cracked sound that meant it was just changing. Another boy a couple of years younger stood next to him, and they looked so much alike I figured they were brothers. Both were wearing blue jeans, plaid flannel shirts, and white cowboy hats. The older boy had a backpack and both of them were carrying rifles. 

The younger boy said, "Are we going to take her back to the caravan, Ivan?" 

"No, Igor. We can get far more for her in Samarkand than any reward they would pay. Besides, we can use her ourselves before we sell her." 

When I heard that I panicked. The ultimate nightmare is to be found by somebody who will use your helplessness for rape. Then I realized that they looked a little young for that and calmed down some. 

"Stand on the chain near her neck, Igor. She won't be able to walk to our camp with her feet chained like this." 

The younger boy, 'Igor', stood on the chain and pinned my head to the ground while 'Ivan' zipped open my daypack and took out the wrenches. He moved to my feet, took some rope out of his backpack, and hobbled my ankles. Then he unbolted my ankle cuffs and put all the hardware in the daypack and zipped it up. 

Ivan motioned Igor to get off the chain, grabbed my arm, and pulled me up onto my knees. 

"Come, girl. We have leagues yet to travel." 

He tried to pull me to my feet, but I resisted. I didn't want to go anywhere with them, and said so through my gag. 

"Can you understand her, Igor? She must be speaking some foreign tongue." 

"No, I don't know what she said either, Ivan. Can I whip her if she doesn't do what we tell her?" 

"Of course. But we left the knout back at the camp." 

By this time I realized they were pretty deep into fantasyland, but who am I to criticize that? My concern was with how much they blurred the line between fantasy and reality. Talking about whipping is one thing, but doing it is something else entirely. Then I realized that Ivan wasn't old enough to get a driver's license. To get way out here there must be an adult with them, somebody who lived in the real world. I let Ivan help me to my feet. 

Ivan moved my daypack to the front of my neck and then strapped his backpack onto my back. It wasn't heavy, but it was kind of humiliating to be treated like a pack mule. Igor took the end of the chain that was attached to my neck and gave it a tug. I followed after him like an obedient slave girl. 

The hobble on my ankles was long enough that I didn't have any trouble walking, and we traveled maybe a mile to the boys' camp. They had camped on the north side of a little hill in a small grove of pine trees; I could see a dome tent and a fire ring with a pile of wood beside it. Ivan went into the tent and came out with a blanket which he spread in the shade of a tree. 

Igor led me to the blanket and Ivan helped me to sit down. He got an ankle cuff and its hardware from the daypack and used it to fasten the end of the chain around the tree. He took the chain off my neck and removed the daypack, and then replaced it and tightened the nut with the wrenches. This worried me, because now I couldn't get it off my neck even if I had my hands free. I asked him what he was going to do, but my gagged words were ignored. 

"Igor, start the campfire. It'll be lunchtime soon." 

Igor starting building a fire. Ivan untied my hobble and retied my ankles together. He got some more rope and tied my legs above the knee. He took a good look at my pussy, but he didn't touch me any more than he had to. 

I was really getting worried now. Not only weren't there any adults around, but we were a long way from the road and I was becoming more helpless by the minute. I protested and screamed through the gag, but was again ignored. Ivan cinched a rope around my knee binding and put the other end through a link in the chain around my neck. When he started to pull my knees up to my chin I screamed and struggled, but he turned me on my back and used his weight to push my legs back, and after he tied the knee rope he pushed me on my side and tied a rope from my ankles to the chain around my waist. I was now tied in a ball. 

I wasn't worried any more, I was terrified. It got worse when when Ivan went over to the fire and put a metal tent stake into the flames. He picked up a piece of charcoal and used it to write something on my butt. 

"What are you doing, Ivan?" 

"Marking where the brand will go." 

I was whimpering with fear. Ivan leaned over and whispered in my ear, "I hope you can hum Jingle Bells. That's your safeword." 

I was too stunned to react. Ivan stood up and shrugged, and I started to hum frantically. 

Ivan took out my gag. "Do you want to stop? We weren't really going to brand you." 

I couldn't speak, but I nodded yes. Ivan took out a knife and cut the ropes on my knees and ankles and freed my wrists. I groaned as I moved my arms and legs. 

"These are cool chains. Did you make them?" 

I nodded. "How do you know about things like this?" 

"The Internet is a great educational tool. We saw you when you started to undress and I thought that you might like some excitement. I hope you had as much fun as I did." 

"I don't know. Ask me later." 

"Please stay for lunch. We'll keep you chained to the tree, if you want." 

"No, get me loose. I've had enough of chains for a while." 

He took the chain off my neck. I got my clothes from the daypack and put them on.

Ivan asked, "Where's your car?" 

I told him and he nodded and said he would guide me back to it. Igor handed me a canteen and I drank some water. Ivan gave me a slightly burned hot dog wrapped in a piece of bread. 

After we had eaten Ivan guided me back to my car. I got the key from under the rock and unlocked the chain around my waist. 

"My real name is John and my brother's name is Joe. What's your name?" 


He gave me my daypack and a piece of paper. 

"Here's all your stuff. That's my phone number; call me when you want to do this again. It can be risky doing it alone, even out here." 

I got in my car. "Thanks. Maybe I will." 

* * * 

When I got back to my apartment I stripped and went into the bathroom. I saw the charcoal on my butt and read what it said: BDSM FOREVER. Kids grow up too fast these days.

The story continues in
The Bilbo

Copyright© 2001 by Zack. All rights reserved.
I welcome your comments. Email me at [email protected] 

updated: 16.07.02

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