Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Forest Path

by Jack Peacock

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© Placed in public domain by author - Jack Peacock

Storycodes: Sbf; M/f; fpov; chastity; cuffs; zipties; outdoors; gag; hood; collar; blackmail; reluct; XX

Walk in the Woods

This was the day, or rather night, she had waited for. Beautiful weather, mild temperature, a full moon in a cloudless sky, and the camp ground would be deserted. The recent wildfires had ravaged the countryside further down the mountain, closing the access road to the public. But she knew about the old logging road that was still passable and led into the camping area from the back. She should have the place all to herself.

She checked the suitcase one more time. Everything she needed was in there, neatly packed. The case was heavy but it had wheels and a handle. She’d be able to manage it as long as she kept to the path. Taking a deep breath she dragged the case out to the garage and loaded it in the trunk. She felt excited with anticipation at what was to come. An entire night and day, if she could manage, in the outdoors would be hers to enjoy in her own special way.

She left well before dark. The logging road was hidden from view, but she didn’t want anyone to notice her car lights since her plan depended on no one being in the area. By the time she reached her parking spot the sun was already behind the mountain. It would be dark on the path, until the moon rose. She had a small flashlight with a red beam, enough to find her way but still keep her presence hidden in case anyone was watching from further down the mountain.

In less than an hour she had reached the campground. It wasn’t large, only three tables. She picked one near a tree and laid her suitcase flat on the table. Unzipping the top she reached in and took out the first item, a large plastic bag.

She intended her experience to be au naturel, in the nude. Off came her clothes, piled onto the table as she removed everything but her hiking shoes and the thick socks. By the time she finished all she wore was her skin. Carefully she folded each item and placed it in the plastic bag. The air was cool but not uncomfortable. She knew from experience this time of year the warm air rising from the desert far below would keep the temperature bearable all night long.

The first step was complete. Twisting the bag shut she tied it off and placed it next to the suitcase. It would go in once the case was empty. Barring the unexpected she wouldn’t need her clothes again until she left. Picking up her phone from the table she checked the time. She was on schedule, with at least an hour before the moon came up. No bars this far up the mountain, so her phone wasn’t good for much more than a watch.

She looked down at her suitcase, holding the flashlight over it. Inside was the equipment she needed to make her planned excursion a real challenge. She reached in and picked up the centerpiece, her custom fitted steel chastity belt. For the last three months she’d been practicing with it, wearing it in the evening and on weekends. Up to now she hadn’t been brave enough to go out in public with the belt on, though she had tried it out with several outfits to see if it showed. Jeans had been quickly eliminated as too tight, but with some of her skirts it didn’t show at all, standing, sitting or walking. After tonight that was her intended next step.

She wrapped the band around her waist. Once closed it would be too narrow to slip off over her hips. Holding together the belt in front with one hand she reached between her legs to pull up the center section, the triangular shield that covered her sex. The top of the center section slid into place. She placed the locking plate over the three ends.

Holding it closed with one hand she picked up the keyring from the table. Selecting the belt key by feel she inserted the key into the lock and turned it. She heard that satisfying click that told her the belt was now secured on her body. To make sure she took hold of the waistband on either side and pushed it down, trying to wriggle out of it. The band was far too narrow to go anywhere. The chastity belt was on to stay until the key released her from its grip.

She ran one hand across the smooth steel plate covering her in front. It became a barrier to temptation, as she thought of it. There would be no premature end to spoil her evening. That choice would be, in a very literal way, out of her hands until she could retrieve the key.

The rest of the suitcase was packed in the order of items to be used. She had planned the sequence very carefully that afternoon. In order to be properly controlled her legs had to be restrained, to strictly limit but not deny her some mobility. She smiled, thinking about how she had decided to accomplish this.

Police used standard length leg irons for prisoners, which she assumed were effective since they were so common. She took out a set, one of the better made versions with an oval cuff for the ankle. She sat down on the bench at the table, reached down and closed the cuffs around her ankles, over the socks, and just above the tops of her boots. A few clicks and her ankles were chained together. She used the pin on the handcuff key in the slot on the ankle cuff, double locking it to prevent further tightening.

She stood up and walked around the table. The connecting chain was shorter than her usual walking stride, which slowed her down. That she expected; to be effective a restraint had to do just that, restrict her movement. The socks would protect her skin from rubbing, but she would have to be careful not to jerk against the cuffs. That would eventually cause bruising.

One set of leg irons was sufficient, but it wasn’t enough to satisfy her. In quick succession she added three more sets, making a total of four. The top set went on with the keyhole facing down. After double locking she took two small zip ties and inserted one through the double lock slots on each side. Pulling them tight the ties held all four cuffs on each ankle close together, effectively forming one larger, heavier, and more secure leg iron. The weight was noticeable now. She could still walk but it would be difficult and tiring. The zip ties would have to be cut off, since a key wouldn’t work with the slot blocked. She had a pair of wire cutters in the suitcase for that.

Once again she walked around the table. This time there was a noticeable difference. She could feel the extra weight on her legs. Regardless of what she wanted a slow walk was her only option.

Next in her plan was her “peace and quiet” requirement. The gag she had chosen wasn’t one of her favorites but it did one thing better than any of the others: it stayed in place once it went on. The mouthpiece was a hard rubber insert covered in spongy foam. It filled her mouth, pressing down on her tongue. Most important was how it muffled any sounds. The wide front panel completely covered her mouth and lower face, extending nearly to her ears and curving down to fit under her chin. A Y-strap went around her nose, between her eyes and over her head, mating with the horizontal straps at the back of her head. More straps on the sides went behind her ears and met at the top. When she first saw it in the mirror, at home, it looked like a giant spider had clamped on to her head.

As a test she tried to count from one to five. No one could possibly understand her. The final test was to scream as loud as possible. Very little noise escaped from the gag, certainly not enough for anyone to hear from far away. She pushed against the piece in her mouth with her tongue to make sure it didn’t move. After a few hours she’d be eager to get it off her head, but that choice too would be taken away from her.

Next came the leather hood, intended to prevent tampering with the gag straps but what she liked best was the way it restricted her eyesight. It wasn’t a tight fit but it did slip over the gag. There was no mouth opening, unnecessary with the gag in place, but it did have wide openings at the nose for plenty of air. The openings for her eyes were built up as rings with small slits in the center. It had the effect of cutting off her peripheral vision. She could see, but only what was directly in front of her. It felt like she was in a long tunnel, nothing to see on either side.

The hood also had extra padding around the ears. She could hear, but the effect was similar to wearing ear muffs. Louder sounds were clear but low volume was cut off, distorted and difficult to make out. From experimenting with the TV she knew she could understand conversations at normal volume, but whispers were lost. For tonight she decided to try something new, a cotton ball stuffed in each ear to further reduce her ability to pick up on any nearby sounds.

Turning around to check out her now reduced vision she saw a glimpse of the moon’s crescent as it began rising. Once it was high there would be plenty of light, even for her narrow field of view. She stood quietly, listening for any sounds. The whisper of the leaves rustling in the light breeze was gone, blocked by the hood and ear plugs. She tried a scream once more. That she could still hear, but it was fainter now. She turned her head to one side and then the other. Nothing, and that was what she wanted. There would be no distractions from some small sound that made her imagination run wild with fear. 

But turning her head was also on her list of what was to be forbidden. Reaching by feel into the suitcase she found the posture collar. It was heavier than most collars due to the steel plate sewn into the leather. She slipped it around her neck from the front. The chin plate fitted nicely under the gag, forcing her to hold her head high. Behind her neck she closed the hasp and squeezed shut the padlock, fastening it in place.

The high sides of the collar pressed in against the hood, placing her head in a rigid grip. She tried to turn her head from side to side but the collar held firm. With some effort she could just raise her chin off the collar plate but otherwise her head was effectively immobilized. The plate in the front of the collar took out any give in the leather, forcing her head up and slightly back. From now on if she wanted to see anywhere but straight ahead she’d have to turn her entire body.

With the posture collar on she could not see the ground directly in front of her feet. She had to lean down, bending at the waist, and even then she could just make out the toes of her boots. It would be one more level of difficulty she must overcome.

She was nearly ready for her nighttime adventure. All that remained, the most critical of all, were her hands and arms. Once those were locked in place she’d be ready. She turned to look at the moon once more. The shape was now round instead of a crescent. She didn’t have much longer to wait.

Considering she had to rely on herself for release she had to retain some use of her hands. At the same time without the extra restrictions her efforts would, in the end, be disappointing. Her choice was a compromise, but one she could still enjoy.

To start she took out the wide leather prison transport belt from her case. This was commonly used by police, a leather belt with a large D-ring sewn into the back and a locking buckle in front. She put it on backwards, with the buckle in the back. She pulled it tight around her waist, just above the chastity belt. It would serve as the anchor point for the handcuffs. A push on the locking button prevented the buckle from opening.

Before finishing she had to make one adjustment. Since she would be walking she didn’t want the chains between her ankles to drag on the ground. They might snag on a branch or bush and cause her to trip and fall. She came prepared, with a long, light chain and a mountain climbing carabiner clip for the ends. Running the chain through the D-ring she reached down, slipped the two chain ends into the carabiner and then closed it over the connecting chains of the leg irons. When she stood up the chains were lifted up just enough to clear the ground.

Her suitcase was nearly empty, a sign she was close to the start of her little journey. Dimly she could make out the few items left. This was always the moment of truth, the proverbial point of no return. Once she finished she would be committed to her undertaking.

She had come up with a novel way to restrain her arms. She reached into her case and took out the leather ankle cuffs. They were the typical medical restraints, two large leather cuffs, padded, with locking buckles, and a stout leather strap between them. They were locked in the closed position, carefully measured beforehand. Holding it behind her back she slipped her hands into the leather cuffs, working then upwards past her elbows.

It wasn’t a tight fit, but that wasn’t necessary. The sole purpose was to pin her upper arms close to her side. Awkwardly she pulled out the last items from the case, two pairs of handcuffs and the one special restraint that “tied” it all together, as she liked to think of it.

The handcuffs were nothing unusual, standard police issue. She opened one side of each pair and slipped the cuff through the D ring on the belt. The ring was large enough for two pairs, but any more were difficult to get through. Taking a deep breath through her nose she closed the cuffs on her right wrist. Using the handcuff key on the keyring she double locked them. She took a moment to put her bag of clothes in the case, then without hesitating she repeated the same procedure, locking her left wrist in the handcuffs.

She tugged at the cuffs, firmly anchored to her waist by the belt. With her fingers she checked the keyholes of the cuffs. As she intended they faced away from her hands, toward her body. It was difficult but not impossible to open them with the key in this position; she had practiced it several times.

With her wrists cuffed together her arms were virtually immobilized by the strap between her elbows. She shifted around to make sure the leather bands around her elbows stayed in place. Until her wrists were released she was all but helpless.

Leaning forward she stared at the one last item, her “icing on the cake”, sitting on the table. With one hand she reached under the other, touching the back of the handcuffs. There was the keyhole, accessible if not that easy to reach. In absolute terms she had lost 90% of the use of her hands, but it wasn’t quite enough.

Determination won out. She picked up the thumb cuffs, pushed both ends open, and quickly closed them over her thumbs. Holding the keyring with her other fingers she managed to push down the double lock plunger. Dropping the set of keys into her suitcase she took a few steps back from the table. When she tried to reach back to the rear of her handcuffs this time it was impossible. The rigid thumbcuffs forced her to keep her hands together. Until they were removed she was trapped in her restraints, all but unable to fight back or run away, or even call for help. Her one hope for freedom rested in the ring of keys in the case, sitting on the table. 

She closed her eyes, savoring the moment, feeling the wave of helplessness wash over her. Her loss of control was complete. If anyone discovered her now, tightly bound from head to foot, she had no way to resist them. That possibility made her shiver, from fear, and something else. Without thinking her hands reached down.

When her fingers brushed against the steel barrier of the chastity belt the moment was lost. Any relief of that sort was denied to her. In frustration she jerked against the handcuffs, accomplishing nothing. That was the problem with handcuffs, the chastity belt and all the other restraints she wore. They continued to work, whether you wanted them on or not.

Opening her eyes she slowly turned around to face the moon. It was high enough now to light her surroundings. The start of the hiking path, marked with whitewashed rocks, was clearly visible. It wasn’t really a hiking path, more of a long nature walk through the surrounding trees. It was an easy walk, no steep inclines, and marked all the way. The catch was, it usually took at least two hours for the full trip.

The problem she always had with her self-bondage sessions was boredom. She could find numerous ways to lock herself up, but then what? Sitting in a chair or lying on the floor, maybe she would watch TV as a distraction. Eventually she would free herself and go do something else when boredom set in.

This time it would be different. She had a specific, difficult task to perform, and once she started she couldn’t back out. She was going to walk the entire hiking trail, chained hand and foot, no matter how long it took to finish. And she would have to finish, because she wouldn’t have the keys until she got back to the table and her suitcase. The restraints would be in control, relentlessly forcing her to keep to their restrictions no matter how much she fought against them.

Normally the trail took two hours at a relaxed walking pace, though in her present state it could be much longer. It was her intention to discover just how long. It could be quite a challenge, but she wasn’t too concerned. If it took too long, and she ran out of moonlight, then she’d have to wait for dawn and the increased risk of being discovered. She’d be tired, thirsty and hungry at the end, but in no danger.

She turned to face the start of the path. The table, with her case and the keys, was directly behind her. She could still call it off, free herself, and go home. Without looking back she took the first step, putting aside all doubts and determined to enjoy every minute. She might never have an opportunity like this again.

At first the going was easy, if slow. The chains on her ankles were just a little too short for a comfortable walk. She had to deliberately slow down and take shorter steps. Before too long she noticed how other factors were making it difficult to make any progress. With her arms held close to her body she couldn’t use them for balance. That put more strain on her legs.

What proved to be just as limiting as the leg irons was how little she could actually see while walking. She had to lean forward to make sure she stayed on the path. Worst of all, she had misjudged how well the moonlight would illuminate the way. Under the trees there were still long, dim sections where she had to slow to a crawl, feeling her way forward, stopping when she felt one of the rocks lining the path under her boot.

Part of her plan was to track her progress by landmarks she had seen while on the path by day. What she hadn’t counted on was the way the darkness changed everything. If not for the marked path she’d be lost. When she eventually reached one of the benches spaced along the path she recognized it and knew at least how far she had come, if not how long it had taken to reach it.

Being able to sit down was a relief for her aching legs. The first bench was about a third of the way along the path. That meant she would soon be at the point of no return. Going back would take as long as continuing forward.

She stared through her small vision slits at the moonlit landscape. It was a very quiet, peaceful scene, although some of the quiet might be from the cotton balls stuffed in her ears. She closed her eyes, imagining she had just escaped from the demented kidnapper. If she could just reach the end of the path in time she’d be able to free herself and elude him. But he might already be on her trail, searching for her. Right this minute he could be sneaking up behind her…

Her eyes flew open. Was that a sound? She twisted her body left and right, trying to see around the bench. Holding her breath she listened carefully. No sound, and no movement; the stalker existed only in her head.

In retrospect the hood, the gag and even the collar had not worked out as well as she had hoped. Or perhaps they worked too well. The gag limited her breathing to her nose, which in turn eliminated any kind of physical exertion beyond a leisurely walk. She had not anticipated the way the combination of posture collar and hood severely limited her sight in the dim moonlight. Leaning forward as much as the collar allowed while straining against the handcuffs she tried to reach up toward the hood and gag. It was hopeless, the chain between her wrists was too short and the belt around her waist didn’t move. Not that she would have accomplished anything; the gag and hood were both secured in the back, well beyond her reach.

She leaned back, looking up at the moon. She still had time to get back, but not if she sat on the bench all night. Standing up she started on the next leg of the trail, looping back to the campground and rescue. The chains between her ankles rattled as she put one foot in front of the other. She wanted to go faster but the leg irons didn’t permit it. They didn’t care about her wishes. They were in charge; she had no choice.

Someday, she told herself, those keys won’t be sitting in a bag, on a table. Someday they’ll be in the hands of the man who will take control of my life. For a moment she stopped while she fought with the handcuffs, trying to slip one wrist, and then the other through the steel rings. She tried the same with the thumbcuffs, with the same lack of results. Until she reached the end of the trail there was nothing she could do. And when her master held the keys she’d be powerless, forced to obey him.

With a sigh she continued on. Daydreams wouldn’t get her any closer to freedom. Despite all the discomforts she was relishing every minute of her nighttime stroll. Bound hand and foot, barely able to move, unable even to speak, had for the first time she didn’t have immediate access to the keys. It was every bit as exciting as she had imagined.

Minute after minute she trudged forward, constantly battling with the tiny holes in the hood and the collar that held her head in its grip. She had begun to lose hope of ever finding the campground when she rounded a bend in the trail and found herself at the end. There was still enough moonlight to see her suitcase, sitting on the table.

She was so exhausted she had to sit down at the table’s bench to rest before starting the long process of removing all her restraints. Once she caught her breath she stood up, clumsily grabbed the bag and slid it off the table top onto the bench. With her hands bound so close to her waist she couldn’t reach high enough with the suitcase anywhere else. She fumbled with the zipper before finally getting the top opened. Bending over she reached inside, searching for the key ring by touch.

This was one of the scariest moments of her adventure. What if someone had found her, and taken the keys? She had a spare set in the car, but that would be quite a walk in her condition, assuming whoever had taken the keys would let her leave. She had no plans for that particular scenario. She’d have no way to communicate, to run away, or even fight off someone who had the worst of intentions toward her.

Her hands closed around the keyring. The worst case wasn’t going to happen tonight. She took out the keys and started to hunt for the thumb cuff key. It had a distinctive feel, with the double lock pin on the top. It didn’t take long to find it.

She had to work by feel because of the collar. She couldn’t actually see her hands even if she bent forwards. Holding the key between her fingers she guided it toward the keyhole in the thumbcuffs. Once those were off she could free her hands. After that it would go much faster.

It took a moment for her to line up the key. It went in smoothly. Relieved, she turned the key. With a click the double lock opened. Pulling out the key she turned it upside down and inserted it into the main keyhole. Another twist in each direction and her thumbs were free. Holding the keyring in one hand she squeezed the thumb cuff, closing it, and dropped it into the open suitcase.

She flexed her hands a few times, enjoying the freedom of all ten fingers again. She couldn’t tell in the dark but there would likely be a red spot on each finger in the morning. No more extended wear for those nasty little lobster claws.

Finally she could release her wrists. After that the collar, hood and gag were definitely the next items to go. Before going any further she turned her hands toward each other, so she could reach toward the back of the handcuffs. By feel she found the keyhole where it should be. Reaching behind her left wrist she tried to insert the key by feel, since she couldn’t see it. At that moment the key ring was suddenly jerked out of her hand.

She froze in panic. She hadn’t dropped the keys. Someone had snatched them right out of her hand, before she could open the handcuffs. As impossible as it seemed she’d been caught, in the open and tightly bound. Her first thought was to run away. As fast as she could manage she headed for the path, thinking she could somehow make it back to her car.

“Don’t be silly. Do you seriously think you can outrun me, in the dark, with your ankles chained together?” It was a man’s voice, deep and authoritative. “Stop immediately! And don’t turn around.” It put an abrupt halt to her ill-conceived dash to nowhere. He was right; she couldn’t even walk at a normal pace, much less run. Although unintentional she had a newfound appreciation for how well leg irons actually worked to ensure a prisoner didn’t try to escape.

Despite all her precautions she’d been caught, out in the open and wrapped up in a nice package. Without those keys she was at the mercy of the stranger who had found her. She had spent days planning this but never considered what to do in this particular situation. And for good reason, she’d have no control over what happened afterwards. Despite his order to the contrary she started to turn around to face her captor.

A bright beam from a flashlight shone directly on her face, blinding her. She turned to one side, so her eyes could recover. At that moment she felt the bag slip over her head, covering the eye slits in the hood. When he pulled it tight she realized it was a plastic sack, most likely a grocery bag. He tied it off behind her neck.

Not only had he blindfolded her but he had also cut off her air. Strong hands gripped her upper arms, holding her in place when she tried to struggle. “Hold still, and don’t move. If you don’t want to suffocate, do as I say.”

She had no choice but to do as he ordered. Though desperate for some air she ceased her attempt to break away from his grasp. He did something and suddenly fresh air flowed into her lungs again. “That’s better, isn’t it? Now I want you to stay where you are. Stand up straight, and this time don’t turn around! I think you’re smart enough to realize that in your present state it would be in your best interest to cooperate with me. Let’s see exactly what you’ve done to yourself.”

A moment later she could see the plastic cover over her eyes light up. He must be examining her with his flashlight. “I’m impressed. A hood and posture collar, and I presume a gag underneath, since you have to breathe through your nose? There must be holes for you to see or you’d never have tried to run away.” She felt a tug at the back of her neck, where a padlock held the collar closed. “Locked on too, you are thorough. It prevents the hood from coming off, and that keeps the gag in place.”

The light in her eyes went out. Suddenly he grabbed hold of her right wrist. She immediately pulled away, or tried to. The handcuffs and the transport belt abruptly halted her attempt. He squeezed her wrist, painfully. “I told you to hold still.” His fingers traced around the cuff on her wrist. “I’ve never seen handcuffs up close. I can see how difficult it would be to get them off, without the key. You have two pair on, seems excessive to me, but maybe that’s the reason why?” He tugged on the transport belt. “Is this better than cuffing your hands behind your back?”

She didn’t even try to answer him. The gag she’d used was very effective at garbling whatever she said. He was right about the belt though. She had tried out keeping her arms behind her back for several hours. She had to cut short that session when the stress in her shoulders got to be unbearable. Her strategy of placing the handcuffs in front, along with pinning her elbows to her sides, proved to be just as effective and far more tolerable.

He ran his hand down one leg to her ankle. This time she held still. “One, two, three, four sets of ankle cuffs? One would be enough, why so many?” He took hold of the connecting chains. “These are long enough to allow you to walk, but not very fast. It’s the weight, isn’t it? You want that heavy feeling, dragging you down. Every step takes an effort, and there’s nothing you can do about it.”

Her mind was racing, trying to think of something she could do. It was obvious now he wasn’t going to release her, or give back the keys. Her last hope was to somehow make it to her car, and the spare set of keys inside. There were two obstacles she had to solve first: how to get the bag off her head so she could see again; and how to get away from him long enough to get to her car. At the moment she had no answer to either one.

“And now we come to the most intriguing part.” His hands gripped her upper arms, holding her tight. “You chose to fix yourself up this way without any clothes on. It’s obvious you didn’t expect anyone to find you, but still it’s a big step, especially for a woman. Were you nervous when you stripped down and began putting on these chains? In hindsight I’m sure you regret it now.”

Regret? This entire adventure had to be one of the worst mistakes she’d ever made. She was trying her best to remain calm, but the reality was something closer to terrified panic. If she went along with him, kept him talking, perhaps there was some slight hope she’d come out of this alive.

When he suddenly reached around from behind and took hold of her breasts in his hands she did panic. Twisting and turning she yelled into the gag, telling him to stop. But all that came out were some indistinct sounds. With his arms around her he held her tight. In desperation she even tried to kick him. He ended that attempt by stepping on the connecting chains between her ankles, forcing her feet onto the ground.

“That’s enough!” he ordered in a stern tone of voice. “Listen to me. You can’t fight back, you can’t run away, and no one’s on the way to rescue you. You’re helpless, and you know it because that’s why you’re out here tonight. Am I right?”

All her resistance melted away. He was right. Her walk tonight was intended for just that reason, to experience the moment of losing control, being defenseless, forced to submit to a greater authority. In one sense that had actually happened now, but not in the way she expected.

He still had his hands on her breasts. With the realization she couldn’t stop him she gave up on a show of resistance. “That’s better! By the way, you are quite the temptation trussed up like this. I find it hard to keep my hands off you, but then you know that already.”

His hands slid down her body, to her waist. “Now this is the most fascinating, and puzzling, item you chose for tonight.” He ran his fingers along the chastity belt waistband, stopping below her hands where the front shield was fastened. “I’ve come across references to modern chastity belts, but of course I’ve never seen one, especially up close and, umm, personal.” He pulled on the sides, trying to shift it up and down, or to the side. “Looks like it’s a snug fit. There’s no way to get it off except with the key, or cutting it off?”

On her last vacation she had taken both keys and mailed them to herself, so that she’d have to wear it for several days while at home. By the second day she had been desperate to get it off but without success. It lived up to its promise, no access. On the third, and then the fourth day she anxiously waited for the mailman to deliver her freedom. When the keys finally arrived it had been a relief to get the belt off.

“What puzzles me,” he continued, “is why you have it on. Is it meant to keep everyone else out? If that were true you wouldn’t have brought the key with you. After all, it doesn’t stop anyone if they can take the key from you. In fact I think this one,” she felt the belt key slide into the locking plate, “opens it up. Yes, it fits exactly.”

She tensed, expecting the worst if he took off her belt. Instead he pulled out the key, without opening the lock. “No, it isn’t there to stop someone like myself. After all, you certainly didn’t expect company tonight.” She didn’t have any idea of where he was going with all his talking. Not that she wanted him to stop, since the most likely alternative was her flat on her back on the picnic table, being repeatedly raped all night long, until it all ended in a grim conclusion before he left.

“That leaves the other possibility; that you have it on to keep yourself in. Yes, I can see with your hands cuffed in front you can just reach down to here.” He tapped on the front shield of her belt, below her hands. “It wouldn’t do to spoil the adventure too soon, would it?”

He took hold of her wrists, one in each hand, and pulled them apart, to the limit of the handcuffs. “It must be frustrating with these things on. I’d wager you’d do just about anything to get the chains off. Everything changes when you don’t have the keys, doesn’t it? One moment you’re about to unlock those handcuffs, and a second later you’re at the mercy of a stranger. Not the way you imagined it would happen, is it?”

No, it wasn’t. In her dreams she’d meet the right guy, someone she felt safe with, before she revealed what she wanted. He’d be understanding, but firm in his demand for obedience. It would be gradual, so she could learn to trust him.

It had all gone horribly wrong. A total stranger had unrestricted control over her, even to the point where she was so terrified she felt compelled to obey him, no matter what he asked of her. She knew nothing about him, had no reason to trust him, and couldn’t stop him from taking whatever he wanted from her.

She felt him standing directly behind her. His hands were on her upper arms, holding her tightly. “Listen carefully,” he spoke in her ear. “If you do exactly as I tell you then you will walk out of here on your own. If you don’t, then I’ll take you with me. If that happens you’ll never see your home or your friends again.”

He turned her to one side but stayed behind her. “Start walking, slowly. I’ll tell you when to stop.” Following his orders she moved forward, one foot in front of the other, feeling her way so she wouldn’t trip. “ That’s good. A little farther, keep going, now stop. Stand with your feet as far apart as possible. Reach forward, place both your hands on the tree in front of you.”

Unsure of what was happening she widened her stance until the leg chains were pulled taut. Straining against the transport belt she held out her hands until she felt the rough bark of the tree. She had to lean forward to get both hands on it.

To her great surprise the bag came off her head. Once again she could see, though all she could make out was the outline of the tree in front of her. The moon had set, leaving only faint starlight. “Your adventure tonight was risky and dangerous. The consequence for being so careless will be to stand in front of that tree until dawn. You will not turn around, you will not make a sound, and you will keep both hands on the tree. Until you see daylight you will stand there, silently, accepting your punishment. When the sun is up, and I mean clear of the mountains, not first light, at that time you can walk to your car. Yes, I know you have a spare set of keys there. Perhaps this will teach you not to do something so foolish again.”

For the first time she began to think she might survive the night after all. If what he promised was true she’d be able to get back to the car as soon as the sun came up. She’d need the daylight anyway; there was no way she could find the trail at night, without her flashlight. It would be a long, unpleasant walk back to the car in the restraints. Perhaps he intended that to be part of her punishment too.

Waiting for the Dawn

She stood there alone in the dark. How long until sunrise? She had no idea what time it was. Supposedly an astronomer could look at the sky and guess the time from the position of the stars, but with the hood and the posture collar holding her head level she couldn’t even look up without bending backwards. In any case she wasn’t an expert on constellations.

Time seemed to stand still. She listened carefully but couldn’t hear any sounds behind her. Had he left, forcing her to stand there so he had plenty of time to make his way out of the area first? She decided on a test. After slowly counting to one hundred she shifted her right foot inward so she could turn around.

Immediately he was on her, pushing her against the tree with his weight. “What does it take for you to learn to do as you are told? You did not have permission to move. Back to your original position, right now!”

Frightened that he might become violent she immediately put her hands on the tree again, and spread her feet apart as far as possible. “Lean forward, put your head against the tree too,” he ordered. Hoping a show of obedience might appease him she did as he commanded, leaning toward the tree until her forehead touched the tree bark.

“That’s better. Now, if you try some stunt like that again here’s what will happen. I’ll throw you over my shoulder, carry you to your car and strap you in the driver seat good and tight. The keys, and the spare ones you left in your car, I’ll leave at your feet. That way it’ll look like you had an accident and got stuck when you dropped the keys. You’ll sit there until someone comes along and lets you go. You’ll have a tough time making anyone believe a mysterious stranger was responsible.”

She could feel his hands on her shoulders, holding her in position. “And when the pictures leak out on the Internet, you’ll be an instant celebrity. Wherever you go, people will recognize you. You’ll know it by the pointing, the laughter behind your back, and the sizable number of propositions from men and women offering to help you do it again.” He tightened his grip. “So if that sounds like fun, all you have to do is try to turn around again.”

He let go of her and stepped back. Her world shrunk to the dim outline of the tree in front of her. The last thing she wanted was exposure, especially pictures going viral on the net. There was no choice; she had to obey him or risk having her life ruined. In a way that was ironic. For all those times she wondered about what it would be like to experience a man’s total control over her, now she had an answer. In a matter of minutes he had brought her to a state where she was panic-stricken at even the thought she might displease him. She was driven to stand there, frozen in place, unable to move, and all because he ordered it.

And then, at the worst possible moment, her nose began to itch. She tried not to think about it but it only got worse and worse. Finally she couldn’t contain herself any longer. Through the hood she rubbed her nose against the tree.

“I saw that,” came the voice from behind her. Something like an electric shock went through her. He was still there, watching her. She gripped the tree tightly in her hands and pressed her forehead against the trunk. At any moment he might pick her up and throw her across his shoulder. She held her breath, listening for his approaching footsteps.

Instead there was only the silence of the night. She closed her eyes, hoping he would understand and be lenient with her. Her heart was racing, her hands were shaking and her legs were so weak she could barely stand. She recognized it as an anxiety attack, brought on the moment she learned he was still there, waiting to see if she would defy him. Slowly she counted backward from one hundred until she calmed down.

In her mind it was clear she had to stand at that tree until the sun came up, no matter what it took. Something had changed; she had to prove to him, and to herself, she could do it. She was tired, thirsty, hungry and in dire need of a hot bath. All that would come later. First she had to wait for sunrise, and then make the long, slow trek back to her car, still bound in chains. She didn’t look forward to the hike but she didn’t have a choice in the matter. He had decided for her.

Eventually she opened her eyes. She traced the myriad small cracks and crevices in the rough bark. To either side she could make out the brush beyond the campsite. Then she realized there was enough light to see beyond the tree. She couldn’t look up or behind her, since she had to keep her forehead on the tree. Thanks to the posture collar she couldn’t turn her head either. But it must be the first light from early dawn.

That didn’t mean she was released from the tree. He had been specific: the sun had to be all the way up. She still had at least half an hour to wait.

The moment she saw her shadow on the ground, and felt the heat from the sun’s rays on her back, she felt it was time to let go of the tree. Was he still there, sitting at the table? He must have left at some point in the night, but she hadn’t heard anything. To be safe she waited a little longer.

Finally she took a deep breath, stood up straight, took a step backwards and turned around. The table was empty, save for her case sitting on the table bench. He was gone. Her ordeal was almost over. All she had to do now was get back to her car. But first she had to sit down and rest her legs.

She walked over to the table and sat down next to her suitcase. Unless he’d taken them her clothes were in it, so she’d have to bring it with her. It wasn’t that heavy since it was nearly empty, but it would be awkward carrying it with her hands cuffed. That was going to slow her down. In frustration she pulled at the leather cuffs holding her elbows, cursing her own thoroughness in how well she had pinned her arms against her body.

Sitting at the table wasn’t getting her home. Just the opposite, it increased the risk someone might come by and find her. Reluctantly she stood up, dreading the long walk. Idly she leaned forward to glance down at the case, to make sure it was closed. That’s when she saw the keyring lying on top.

Quickly she grabbed the ring and began hunting for the key to her handcuffs. Carefully so as not to drop the keys she turned her left hand up as far as she could, to expose the back side of the cuff encircling her wrist. Working by touch she managed to insert the key in the hole. When she turned it she felt the click of the double lock releasing. Turning the key in the other direction opened the cuff bow. She was free of one pair.

The second pair was easier. Once her left hand was free she quickly unlocked her right wrist. A moment later she worked the leather cuffs down past her elbows, freeing her arms. She wasted no time finding the key to the lock behind her neck. In quick succession the posture collar, hood and gag came off.

She sat back down on the bench, overwhelmed by relief. When her hands started to shake she held them close together. Stretching out her legs she studied the leg irons around her ankles. Those had to come off, along with the chastity belt. Turning to her suitcase she checked the side pocket. The wire cutters were still there.

She spread her legs, pulling tight the chains between her ankles one last time. Reaching down she cut the nylon zip ties on each side and pulled them out of the double lock slots. Now she could unlock the leg irons. One at a time she removed all four sets, placing each one on the table as it came off.

Standing up she removed the handcuffs from the leather transport belt, unlocked it and took it off her waist. Once the chastity belt was off she could put her clothes back on and start back to the car. She stopped for a moment, thinking about how he had taken such an interest in her belt. The moment he had inserted the key she fully expected him to open it. And she had been resigned to what he would do after the belt was off.

Holding up the ring of keys she looked for the distinctive shape of the chastity belt key. It wasn’t there. Frantically she dug through the suitcase, hoping it had somehow fallen off the ring. When her search came up empty she carefully searched the ground around the table. Finally she had to admit the key was gone, and he must have taken it with him.

In desperation she tried to slip out of the belt, but the band around her waist was far too narrow to go over her wide hips. She pulled at the locking plate, in the vain hope it might come loose. The problem was, she had not bought a toy. The chastity belt was the real thing, made of steel with a secure lock in front. Either it came off when opened or it had to be cut off. Neither option was available to her.

She sat down on the picnic table bench again, trying to come up with some idea of what to do next. She didn’t have any knowledge of metalworking, and no idea how she could cut the waistband without injuring herself. Nor did she want to destroy the belt. She had a lot of time and money invested in obtaining it, plus it was one of her favorite restraints, providing she could take it off. A good locksmith could probably open it, and make new keys, but it would be an embarrassing situation.

The car! She had forgotten about the spare set of keys, including her spare belt key. She jumped up, grabbed her clothes and began dressing. The shorts were a tight fit over the belt but she managed to get them on. She packed away all the other restraints in the suitcase and headed back along the trail to her car.

At the Car

Several times while walking back, lost in thought over the unexpected turn of events last night, she found herself deliberately taking short steps, as if her ankles were still chained together. She was tempted to put on a set of leg irons but it would slow her down, and she wanted to get to the car so she could unlock the chastity belt.

Safely alone again she began thinking about the man who had found her. Who was he, where had he come from, and most of all, how had he so easily dominated her? Not so much in the physical sense, she had done that all on her own. No, what she wanted to know was the reason behind the sudden collapse of any resistance on her part. At the end she had submitted with blind obedience, eager to do anything he wanted, overcome by a driving need to be perfect for him. What had he done to put her in such a state?

She came out of the trees to the back road where her car was parked. Much to her relief it was still there, so his motive in pinning her to the tree hadn’t been robbery. She hurried to the driver side door and jerked it open. The spare keys were still there, in the center of the driver’s seat.

To her surprise there was an unopened bottle of water and a convenience store sandwich in the passenger seat. Tucked underneath the sandwich was a note. So he had been to her car after all.

First things first, she grabbed the spare keys and began searching for the chastity belt key. In less than a second her hopes were dashed; it wasn’t there. He had both keys, the only two that came with the belt.

She sat down in the driver’s seat, depressed that she was now truly trapped in the belt, and no easy way out. Under her shorts she felt the belt pressing against her waist and thighs, forcing her to keep her legs slightly apart. Sooner or later she’d have to find a way to get it off.

Placing her hands on the steering wheel she leaned forward, resting her forehead against her fingers. Why had he taken the keys? Maybe he thought it was funny, a cruel joke played on her, leaving her secretly locked up for who knows how long. It didn’t seem to be in character for him, at least based on the short time he’d ordered her around.

Glancing to the side she saw the piece of paper under the sandwich. Curious, she picked it up and unfolded it. It was a note, from him, addressed to her by name. That scared her; at no time had she told him her name. Then she saw her purse sitting on the passenger side floor. Of course, he’d searched it, checking everything including the driver’s license in her wallet.

She unfolded the note and began to read:

I’m sure the first question on your mind has to do with a certain key. They aren’t lost; I have both of them. I assume those are the only two that came with your belt? Don’t worry, you will get them back. When and how the keys will be returned is at my discretion. You will be told what you need to know, when it is necessary, and not before then. So be patient, make the best of your situation, and when you go to sleep tonight remember I am the one who makes the decisions for you now. I will choose the moment when you can remove the belt.

She put down the note and stared out the car window. That explained the missing key. It didn’t solve the problem of how to get out of the belt though. She could still go to a locksmith, or even the Fire Department, except there was a good possibility her secret would be exposed to the public if she did. Stories like that were too funny to keep out of the news.

There were implications if she waited for him to let her go too. That was a tacit admission he was the one controlling her, just as he had written. Her emotions were mixed when thinking about what that meant. If she went to the police then she’d have to explain everything, and that wasn’t a very appealing scenario either.

She picked up the note to finish reading it:

These are your instructions for today. You are to return home immediately. Take a nice hot bath, fix something to eat and take a nap. You are not to leave the house until I contact you again. You will go to bed at exactly 10:30 tonight. Before going to bed you will remove all clothing and lock one pair of your leg irons around your ankles. Make sure the key is in a different room. Do not get up before 6am. You will receive further information later.

That’s where the note ended, without a signature. She read it again and again, trying to get some sense of what he intended to do next. She placed the note back on the passenger seat and stared out the windshield, trying to figure out what she should do.

He claimed he would return the missing key, but he didn’t say when that would happen. It could be a day or a month, for all she knew. The alternative was to find someone who could get the belt off her, but that solution had its own set of problems. In the short run she was better off waiting for the keys, even though she’d have to wear the belt until he released her.

What to do about his list of instructions? She could ignore them, but if he discovered it then he might not deliver those keys. Reluctantly she started the car. “Immediately” meant just that; she had to leave right away. He must be watching her at this very moment, from some vantage point hidden in the trees. His orders weren’t that complicated or unreasonable. She’d do as he asked for today, to see what would happen next.

The One That Didn’t Get Away

He leaned back against the rock and watched her drive away. His motorcycle was packed and ready to go, but he’d give her a good head start. There were plenty of bends along the road where he could stop and watch the road, to make sure she hadn’t doubled back or stopped to try to catch him. He doubted she’d resort to those kinds of tricks, but it was wise to be prudent just in case.

He’d come up that road yesterday morning, once it was clear the location was safe. He liked coming to the old logging camp. No one ever came up there, so it was a surprise when he saw the car approaching on the road. He always parked the bike in the trees, just in case a Forestry Service helicopter came by, so when she parked and got out she had no idea he was watching her.

When she started toward the campground, pulling that suitcase behind her, he was puzzled as to what she was doing. No backpack, no tent, nothing to indicate she intended to camp out. Curious, he decided to follow her at a distance, to see what was going on. The sun was getting low, so he stopped to pick up the case with his night vision scope before leaving. If she was headed to the campground it’d be dark before he could get back to his camp.

Knowing her likely destination it was easy to track her to the campground without being detected. The real surprise came when she arrived at the camping site and began removing her clothes. When she started with the chains he finally figured out what she intended, some kind of bondage adventure in the great outdoors.

After she went off on her walk he went over to the table to see what she’d left behind. Examining the keyring he found the one oddly shaped key that must be for that chastity belt she put on. Temptation was too strong to resist; he slipped it off the keyring and dropped it in his pocket.

When she finally returned his original plan was to see her reaction when she realized the key was missing. That changed while watching her remove the thumb cuffs. On an impulse he came up behind her and grabbed the keys from her hand before she could release the handcuffs.

When he placed her against the tree he knew she wouldn’t wait for daylight. So he waited, and sure enough she started to turn around not long afterwards. When he pushed her back against the tree he could tell she didn’t expect him to still be there. The second time she tried it his sharp order to stop and her quick reaction was enough to convince him she would stay there until the sun came up.

When he slipped away and headed back to where she had parked her car his intentions began to change. The way she had responded to him was something he’d never experienced before. Far from feeling guilty about it he wanted more. And just maybe she enjoyed it too.

Her car was unlocked, as he expected. There hadn’t been any car keys in her case, and she certainly wasn’t carrying them. Lying on the passenger seat in front was the extra set of keys. He found the match to the one in his pocket. He removed it from the keyring, guaranteeing she’d keep the belt on for a while longer.

Her purse was on the floor. A quick search produced her wallet and license. He had all her details now: name, address, age, even where she worked thanks to her insurance card. There were a few sheets of blank paper and a pen, so he left her a note explaining the missing keys.

She had to depend on him now. He smiled at the thought of how he would exploit it.


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