Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

A Normal Adventure!

by S M Ackerman

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© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; naked; outdoors; cuffs; chain; gag; caught; M/f; spank; bdsm; cons; XX

Today starts like most days start, with breakfast. That is where the normalcy of this day vanishes. Breakfast normally consists of coffee, toast with butter, then off to work. Today it consists of a bowl of high fibre cereal, milk by the glass, a protein mix shake, and plenty of water to follow. My day normally starts with at least three cigarettes as well (I know there bad for me but…). Today they are banned, this is all part of the day I have planned for myself.

Ooops, I have forgotten to tell you a bit about myself

What an idiot I can be sometimes.

My name is Francis, (sounds posh but I am not honestly) I am twenty-one and a half, five foot seven and slim, almost willowy, or so my friends tell me. I have a creamy almost white skin, dark red hair, and I am slight of build in the breast and hip departments.

Well that’s all you need to know about me other than I live in a small town with my parents, and have a job in a fashion shop. Oh yes and I am single and have been for too long. My last boyfriend (well all of them really) was an idiot, in fact that’s not accurate, he was a selfish idiot. It lasted only as long as it took him to get me into bed, and that wasn’t even worth the effort! Since then I have been single and intend to stay that way.

Recently I have been finding myself reading thinking and looking out for anything to do with bondage. Being single, my interest swiftly became searching out stuff relating to self-bondage, and that interest is how today became first a challenge and then a reality for me.

I have no work to go to (three days holiday). I have no friends to meet with (they think I am at work). My parents are away for the whole week, (carefully planned for). I am alone and ready to make my fantasies come true (at last). I am ready to inflict pain and suffering and I hope orgasms by the bucket full on myself, or if not orgasms then torturous frustration.

Today is my day for fun and games and it starts with eating a large quantity of food (as described) as it will be needed to keep me going, and to provide the energy I will need to complete my self allotted tasks.

Residing by the front door is a rucksack (placed in readiness last night). Inside of it is everything a self-bondage punishment slut could ever require, ranging from chain and locks to a gag and cuffs, and one other interesting item as well. All of which I will require if I am to fully appreciate my day off.

Now readers, I could explain in all kinds of multi-coloured gory detail the day I have planned, and then go on to tell you what happened; but I am lazy and believe that it is better if I just drag you along, and let what will be, happen as it does. You of course will then understand what just happens but won’t know what is about to happen next, and I hope that you will enjoy the surprises as much as I intend to enjoy the reality.

Read on and join me on my day of normalcy and adventure. Let us discover together exactly how far I am prepared to go for my orgasms, and see if you enjoy reading about them, half as much as I hope to enjoy feeling them.

Ten Miles From Home And Safety, By Bus.

Well here I am, ten long miles from my home, just me and my rucksack, with a long way to roam. I am beginning to wonder if this is such a good idea, as I watch the bus I just got off leave. Nothing and no one is in sight in either direction. The driver questioned me as to whether I was sure I wanted to get off right here. I assured him that it was fine, that I was expecting a lift shortly (a Lie).

Well there is no benefit in standing by the side of this road when the fields and woods await, and adventure causes blood and adrenaline to flow together. I step off the road entering into the thick bushes, pushing my way deep inside, trying to locate a suitable place for my adventure to start.

The sharp bark of a pine tree rears out of the ground surrounded by a ring of dense bushes, beneath its boughs not much if anything can grow; so beneath its bows is a good place for me to prepare myself. I like to think that I am offering my body by vulnerability to any that can find it, but of course I do not really want to be found or caught, not dressed, or should I say undressed, in the way I intend to be.

A sacrificial virgin (ha ha) laid at the alter of the rope and chain, bound and secured, set to scurrying along the road side, helpless, vulnerable and relying on my reactions to hide me, and thus protect me from discovery.

My clothes I remove, there is very little involved in stripping, I have only to pull down my track-suit bottoms and kick of my plimsoll’s and I am naked from the waist down. A thin T-shirt covers my chest and my small, but pert looking breasts. My nipples are already hard as flint-shards and pointing out from my breasts. Little signs indicating the general state of a now naked slut, waiting to indulge her sexual appetites.

My clothes are balled up and then thrown into my surroundings, to snag or be discovered as they will be. I turn my attention to my rucksack, pulling loose the drawstring I open the bag before tipping it over, shaking it until everything falls out from within to scatter before me on the floor. The thing I always do first is insert my gag and secure it tightly in place. I have chosen a round-ring-gag, two inches across and perfect to keep my mouth open and available to anyone that wants to use it.

The ring enters, twists slightly and then seats itself perfectly. Behind my head, I stretch the retaining cord, then with a snap the catch closes shut; picking up a small gold coloured padlock I secure the strap. Now I cannot remove the ring-gag, and the only keys for it are on the table at home, which is a hell of a long way from where I am now.

A cold breath of wind lightly brushes against my skin tickling me, adding to my feeling of vulnerability. I dare not look back or forward, back is where I decided to inflict this torment on myself and the reasons do not bare looking at. Forward is the miles of walking and hiding I have to face if I am to ever return to my normal everyday life.

I pick up the chains from the floor there are leather cuffs on each end, which I strap around my ankles. Two small padlocks click and fix the cuffs shut, they are permanent now, well for as long as it takes me to get home.

I pick up a piece of laminated plastic, fitted with a loop of string and place it over my head, so it hangs perfectly between my breasts. A quick glance down and a shudder rips through me as I see what is written on the sign, now hanging around my neck and at the thought of what I am risking. I am reaching out to finalise my bondage quickly before I have time to think and change my mind.

Now comes the scary part, my hands need locking behind my back. I have purchased a pair of police grade, double lock handcuffs, which once fitted will remove any ability to fight off any attacker.

You see reader that I am leaving myself totally available to any man or women, (did I really think that) woman, just the thought of being subjected by another woman makes my blood freeze. A man would be bad enough, but at least I would know exactly what he wants to do to me should he catch me, but a woman, they can be bitches and that is scary as hell.

The locks ratchet closed and now my hands are restrained, I have no way to escape other than to trudge the ten or so miles back to my home. My route is through the woods first, then follow along with the road edge, but ten miles with a short pace is bloody long way to trudge. I expect it to take a day and a night and be exhausting, so the quicker I start my trip, the faster I will finish it and be safe once more.

Now clearly undertaking a challenge like this is both dangerous and has hazards other than the obvious one of being caught, like starving to death. During the weeks leading up to today, I had been preparing cashes of food and drink and placed them strategically along my route, for use as becomes necessary. The nearest of these is three miles from where I now stand, hidden by the main road, next to a distinctive pole and sign arrangement. If I want to eat before it gets dark then I will have to risk being seen by any passing drivers. My only other options are don’t eat at all, ignore the cache and walk on, or wait for night to fall, and have to face a cold hungry night in the open, dressed and bound as I am; with all the risks that entails.

Still I have not yet taken a single step towards my freedom. The first step is always the hardest they say, in my case it is the sixth onward that are the hardest, six steps bring me to the edge of the overhanging branches, through which I had so easily pushed my way in earlier. Then I had not been naked and bound; now I am. I duck my head, close my eyes and bull my way forward. The short chain (ten inches) restricts my movements, but I manage to pass out of my hidden dell into the woods proper. All I received is a few scratches to my arms and hips, but they are enough to cause me some discomfort. I find myself, by my tenth step, bemoaning my stupidity and my desires. Wondering why I want to risk rape and humiliation, as well as to make my body suffer through trial after trial. My fear levels rise the closer that I meandered toward the road, soon I am terrified as I walked along the ditch edge separating me from the road.

Cars whizzed by, with each I scrunch my body down as small and as close to the ground as I can, and pray I am not seen. I have a plan of sorts if a passing car slows or stops. I will stand up and run, and try to find some place to hide from the driver. Hopefully none will stop, but I find myself asking, ‘what would I do if I was a man and saw a naked bound woman trudging along the road side? Perhaps I would stop intending to help, but then when I caught up with her, and saw the laminated sign hanging around her neck offering me permission to use and abuse her as I choose; what then would I do with my find?’

This trip is all about risk taking, and that is why I have placed the card and its invite around my neck. That is why I have a ring-gag holding my mouth open, so my mouth can be used if required, and it is also why I have no panties or other protection on. I have made certain that there is nothing to inhibit or restrict any assailant, and especially a randy one. Just naked vulnerable me, handed to them on a plate, ready for the taking, invitingly available in anyway they desire.

A slut, perfectly presented by herself to be fucked, buggered and abused in anyway, by anybody. One that clearly needs, and deserves to be used and punished effectively by anyone that finds her, and wants to use or torment her. That’s me, a slut on offer, and at the same time desperate to avoid the risk I have taken occurring. I will try to conceal myself and make it safely home, but it is the risk of being caught and the fear that it generates, that keeps driving me to inflict these trials on myself.

Every step I take is accompanied by the distinctive, and to my ears, very loud sound of chain rattling. Step after step, rattle after rattle I follow the road. Five times in as many minutes, I have to duck as cars thunder past me. If this carries on, I will have seriously underestimated the time my hike will take. Already I have covered only half-a-mile when I expected to have trudged a full mile.

I also underestimated exactly how hard walking through the roadside growth would be on my bare feet. I often kick off my shoes and spend the day bare footed, but now I have learned that walking the road side is far harder than walking about my garden. My feet hurt; there is no getting away from it and that is after only half-a-mile, what state will they be in after ten miles. Will I be able to walk ten miles, the fear filled thought bursts into my mind. Just then another car approaches, I have allowed myself to be distracted and failed to hear it until it is far to close for comfort.

I do not have the time to seek cover and crouch down, instead I have to throw myself forward and trust to luck that I don’t land on anything hard. The car closes; my breath vanishes from my lungs as I impact hard on the floor. I freeze, listening, unable to see the road from where I am laying, but my ears are working overtime. The car whooshes past followed by the thunder and rattle of a large lorry. I can see the cab and the driver and he is looking right at me. Has he seen me screams in my mind, will he stop, will he act on what he thinks he has seen? Thankfully, the lorry roars away and I am once more alone, though prone on the ground.

Getting up from being flat on your stomach when your hands are cuffed behind you back, and you feet restrained by ten inches of chain is no easy thing to do. I take a good ten minutes to twist around and get my feet beneath me, only to discover that I do not have the strength to rise.

Panicking I look about, there is nothing obvious I can lever against, no tree that I can reach easily, having passed out of the woods some three hundred yards before, and there not being any more trees for at least two hundred more. I realise that my only hope of salvation lies in the ditch that separates me from the road.

I roll, being unable to walk to the ditch edge. My feet drop over the edge, my body slowly slides after my feet. Cold water clutches at my feet, then swirls around my ankles, rising as I slip deeper into the waste-water channel. Gravity stands me up, but now I am contained within the mud and grass edges of the ditch. My only option is to walk along it until I discover a place, which will allow me to exit, and so regain the bank or road side.

I had set out on this adventure known and intending that it would get hard, but I had never anticipated how hard or how fast my adventure would get. I certainly never considered being stuck in a ditch with ten or so inches of ice-cold, dirty-water, swirling around my feet and calves. Nor having to walk forward for an indefinite period of time through it.

Planning, safety, thought, all have failed me this time, nothing has gone quite as I expected, and now only an hour or so into my trudge I am regretting ever starting. I swear that if I survive this intact I will never do anything as stupid as this again. The words batter at my thoughts as I walk slowly onward. At least now, I can not hear the rattle of the chain with every step I take.

The channel takes a swerve to my left and away from the road; I look forward stretching myself up in the hope of seeing a way out of this predicament. All I can see is the large looming back of a lorry. It is stationary, parked, in a lay-bye I realise. That also means that there is a driver around somewhere, hopefully he is sitting in his cab reading a paper. I slow down, ducking low beneath the edge of the ditch and shuffle silently forward. I have to pass this lorry or spend a very long time in the cold water. Slowly, watching and listening, I creep alongside of the vehicle, I have seen no one, heard nothing, and have some hope of success, that is until a male voice speaks to me.

“Hi there, I wondered how long it would take you to get here.”

The voice did not come from the direction of the lorry but from my left, the driver had been in the bushes edging the road now, watching and waiting, hoping I presume to catch me. He had seen me as he drove past, and he had stopped and waited for my arrival, now I wonder what does he intend to do?

“Would you like a hand up from down there, that water must be very cold?”

I glance up, looking at him, trying to detect any threat or any trace of violent intent, of course he has not read my note yet, when he does his attitude might change. He looks very tall and quite slim, which considering that he is standing on the ground, and I am looking up from within a ditch is probably quite distorting, but even so he does not look like I envisage homicidal maniacs to look.

He is reaching down, having wedged his sturdy looking boot into the bank edge. With little choice, I ease myself closer to his outstretched hand, allowing him to grasp hold of an arm. He pulls giving me something solid to lever against, and swiftly I am lifted out of the ditch.

His other hand now has a tight grip on me, and I feel safe. How the hell can I feel safe knowing exactly what he is about to read, and can do to me. He holds me at arms length, he does not seem at all surprised by my gagged mouth, or the sign he is holding and reading, let alone my dirt covered body and chains. He is smiling at me, nodding his head and looking down at me (he is very tall and quite handsome, all things considered, I have done well).

“Now this is some invite young lady, one that could well get you into some serious trouble. Luckily for you I discovered you, not some of the other strangers that travel these roads. I won’t use you, I don’t believe that you deserve to have that fantasy fulfilled, not today and not by me. Instead I will give you a lift closer to wherever you are going, that is if you would like me to. I nod, a lift would be most welcome, in fact amazing, as I am far more done in that I thought I would be, and I have a long way to go still. I nod again trying to smile and say thank you, neither are possible with the ring-gag tightly forced between my lips.

“You are quite a naughty young lady taking such risks, and wearing such an invite and little else”

Something about his tone of voice sent shivers of fear down my spine, he was still smiling at me, and still looking quite normal, but now he sounds a bit like my father used to when he was annoyed with me.

I felt his disapproval quite clearly; I looked up but could not meet his eyes because I knew exactly what I would see. I felt naughty and he knew it. He questioned me, asking where I had to go to, and with difficulty I conveyed with nods and shakes of my head my destination.

Then he asked if I felt I had been naughty? What could I do, standing bound and naked before him but to agree. He then asked if I deserved to be punished, again what could I do but agree. He then said so be it, and led me into the bushes. I wondered if he had changed his mind and was taking me somewhere to fuck me, he hadn’t and wasn’t, instead he took me to a fallen tree and ordered me to bend over it.

He then detailed exactly what he felt I deserved, and after asking me if I agreed with his assessment (which I did) he started the process of giving me the soundest spanking I have ever received. His palm splatters against my naked skin, time after time, slap after slap causing heat to roar throughout my bottom, bringing tears to my eyes and heat to my quim.

After a while he stops, but I already knew what I am going to receive next and a knot of fear fills my stomach. He snaps of a couple of switches, strips them of their leaves, before cleaving the air with them until he decides which should deal with my naughty bottom. I received twenty strokes of that switch and each and every one of them makes me cry out, gasp, wriggle and stutter, but each drives home to me how stupid I have been, and makes me vow never to do something like this again.

He stands me up, smiles down at my tear streaked face and gently touches my chin. His smile lights up his face; desperately I want to say thank you to him for his considerate treatment of me, it has been so perfect. I have not come, I had not even really enjoyed being thrashed so hard either, but for the first time in as long as I can remember I feel whole inside, and happy as well. I realised what has been missing from my life, and why I seek out danger and take risks.

I needed discipline, and with a fire raging across my naked bottom I have one of those lucid moments, and understand myself perfectly for the first time. This stranger has understood and seen what I need, and he has delivered it, he has made me feel complete and at peace, providing me with something that has been lacking in my life for a long time, discipline.

He leads me back to the lay-by and over a wooden plank conveniently placed to cross the ditch, then up to his lorry cab. He opens the door and then asks me if I still want that lift. I nod not wanting him to leave me. I want to know him, love him and be spanked by him as often as he thinks that I deserve to be, but I can not tell him what I am thinking.

He lifts me into his cab, his hand on my naked bottom boosts me upward, I shoot upward and splatter into a huge comfortable seat. He closes the door, walks around the front and gets in next to me. The engine purrs as he drives me away from that lay-by and towards my home. He takes me to my street, which is located on the outer edge of town, and then up to my home. He reaches behind his seat and pulls out a blanket, which he drapes over my shoulders, and then he gets out, comes around and helps me down from his cab.

He has a marker pen in his hand with which he writes a name and telephone number on my stomach; then he escorts me to my front door. I indicated where my key is hidden and he locates it, opens the door, kisses me lightly on my forehead and then he says ‘until we meet again.’ With that he is gone, and I am home safe and sound.

That evening I ring him, his phone rings endlessly, but eventually he answers it. That call is the start of a new life for me, for us. One filled with discipline and travel, with adventures and orgasms, and of course real caring love…

My parents adore him, mostly I think because they can see how happy and contented I am with him. We visit often and sometimes even get to play around when we stay over. My father took me aside and told me that he approves, as clearly my man is providing something that I was lacking. I looked at dad and wondered if he could read minds.

Mother of course still insists on feeding me, but now she feeds Tom as well, and he does not complain I note. I dare not complain or it will be my bottom that receives a response, from Tom these days, not my father. Both are strong dominant males I love dearly, and both seem to understand how I need to be treated, and Tom has took up the challenge of disciplining me that my father rightly laid down when I reached womanhood.

The End.


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