Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

The Mistress

by Selfbound.OR

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© Copyright 2010 - Selfbound.OR - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; chans; cuffs; nipple; gag; boxed; caught; F/f; hum; tease; cons/reluct; X

The laundry basket sat patiently on the couch, tolerating the impatient glare Sarah kept giving it as she paced back and forth in her living room.  Her bare feet made that soft padding sound she loved to hear, and it only heightened her anticipation of the clever game she devised for herself, a little self-bondage adventure she came up with about a week ago.  The waiting was driving her crazy, giving her all the extra time she needed to over-think her technique and fret all the details she was sure was forgetting about.  The apartment had that nice early morning chill she liked and it felt amplified by her lack of warm cover, clad only in a thin tank top and a pair of her skimpy running short, both in desperate need of washing.  Sarah paced through the same short path and she could smell the waft of her sweat emanating from the clothes she worked out in, leaving a little trail of her musk that seemed to hang in the cold air.  She knew in a little while she'd be sweating profusely from the intense session she had planned, a willing victim of her new idea, and all she wanted to do was end the waiting and start the craziness. 

Life and work had kept her busy enough that the last time she was happily tied up, absolved of all responsibility and basking in the glow of her ordeal, was the club's grand excursion in the van; an insane marathon of head games that she and the girls still talked about fondly every time they chatted.  Her schedule had included a few trips to Kate's apartment on the rescuing end of a strict spread eagle once and a harsh bamboo tie another time that Sarah still wasn't sure how her friend got in, but it got her juices flowing and she felt the overwhelming urge to have the favor returned.  Sarah had started a little ritual where she wouldn't let Kate out right away and teased her for at least a few minutes with little bites on her nipples, or soft sucking kisses on her clit, something naughty to keep them on each other's mind in the middle of their work days.  It worked a little too well and Sarah was sure Kate was ready to return the sexy torments, if only she would write back.  "Please..." Sarah pleaded to her silent Blackberry.

After waiting a whole week with this seed of an idea spreading like a weed through her brain, impeding her ability to think of much else, this last half hour was torture and Sarah could feel the passing of every minute and the forming of every drop of dew between her legs.  She was more than ready to get her “laundry” started, if only her partner would get on the stick and let her know she was on the clock for her release.  Sarah's mind wandered back to her last discovery of Kate, her wrists and ankles tethered by black nylon straps to the posts of her head and foot boards, pulled taut with these clever one-way cargo hasps Kate found at the local sporting goods store for stowing items in a the bed of a pickup.  Sarah admired the wide X-shape Kate’s body made and the contrast of her tan skin to the white sheets, rumpled and unmade under her from hours of obvious struggle. 

Kate knew she had come in to rescue her, but without a word, Sarah had jumped on the bed, knelt between Kate's splayed legs and applied her soft lips to Kate's engorged labia, her tongue forcing its way between like a welcome gate crasher.  Long wet laps culminated in a tight sucking seal around her clit hood that Sarah pulled on just enough to make her helpless friend go rigid, reporting her sheer pleasure from the sensation as a series of noises starting from a whimper and culminating in a deep throaty moan erupting behind her tight black ball gag as her quivering let Sarah know she had delivered an overwhelmingly pleasant orgasm.  The pride she felt in pleasing her friend so stayed with her, and Kate was more than ready to respond in kind.  Except for right now, it seemed, as Sarah's need for the restriction of cuffs and the pinch of her clamps grew more desperate with each passing minute waiting for the acknowledgment she knew she needed to begin.

Sarah shot another glance at the innocent looking laundry basket and placed her Blackberry on the counter with a less than subtle bang, her lust mixing with frustration into a dangerous combination she knew would make her just a touch more impetuous and unnecessarily daring.  She peeked at the waiting PDA, feeling strangely guilty that she wanted to blame it for the knots in her stomach.  She could break this tension right now with a quick little roll on the floor and an un-ladylike thrust of her hand into her shorts; but that was not what was making this moment so maddening and delicious.  It wasn't even the waiting; she had planned other sessions weeks out for a perfect evening to arrive where she could be alone in her comforting helpless struggles.  This was something else, another aspect of her situation she couldn't quite put her finger on that gave her that sumptuous yet hungry feeling whenever she was ready to play. 

Sarah closed her eyes and her mind drifted again to Kate's soft wet sex; how it felt against her lips, how it tasted, how she could feel every little twitch her captive lover made through their sensitive connection.  And then it hit her, like a ton of bricks, and she came to and stared outside her window for a moment to collect herself from her erotic reverie; she had simply given herself to Kate that day.  She pleased her friend in the most intimate way, essentially giving her permission to be in ecstasy, bound, gagged, completely beyond control, and yet still driven to satisfaction like she wanted by her willing partner.  Did she dare say lover?  Without words, Kate asked for permission to live out her fantasy and Sarah had fully granted that desire without hesitation. 

Now, in her moment of need, begging for release, her friend's by-and-leave was nowhere to be found.  Sarah was trapped in a prison of her own doing without even a single link of chain or length of rope, waiting for the jailer in the form of Kate to grant her pardon and let her live out her desire.  She gasped a little at the revelation and wrapped her arms around her, planting her feet together, flat on the floor, pressing her back a little into the counter as she stared into space, wondering when her time would come.  Sarah lowered her head and examined the ribbed detail of her shirt, her breasts pushed up from her arms crossed under them, making out the dark shadow of her cleavage showing through the white cotton.  Her breath came in sporadic deep breaths as she kept the germ of her desire alive in her head, envisioning the game she planned, waiting for the final note to play.  Suddenly, her Blackberry vibrated, sliding in small steps across the counter.

Her hand snapped out in an involuntary strike and snatched the phone up, her thumbs quickly navigating to her messages.  There, in glorious bold type indicating a new message, was a text from Kate, "OMG, so sorry, go ahead.  On for brunch at 10 tomorrow.  Hope you don't escape before I get there;)  xo Kate." 

Imagining she should feel relief, Sarah instead noticed her breath get heavier as butterflies of anticipation turned into full blown knots as the realization set in that her game was on and there was nothing she could do to stop it, or at least would do.  Several hours of peril lay before her and she stood on the precipice, her naked toes hanging over the edge, ready for her to step off.  She gave her apartment one more quick glance to be sure everything she needed was in place; and with a step she approached her couch and scooped up her full laundry basket with both hands.  She shifted her grip and held the plastic container full of clothes against her body with one hand and pulled her front door open.  She gave her flip-flops one brief look, but realized she didn't want them or need them to go down to the laundry room in the cellar.  She stepped out into the hallway, her feet taking in the tingly sensation of the cool white tile that lined the floor from one end to the other and pulled the door shut behind her.  She turned and gave the door a test, knowing full well it would remain unlocked; and pulled it shut again satisfied.  She swung about and walked down the hall to the elevator, basket in front of her in both hands. 

As she took full steps forward, she could feel her tits bounce and shimmy under her shirt, and a little piece of her wished there was someone around to see that; she felt like showing off her figure.  "Time enough for that later" she thought as the elevator bell rung and the down arrow lit up over the top of the frame.  The door opened revealing the empty car and she stepped on, walked to the back, standing with her back to the wall, her legs tightly pressed together, the insides of her thighs, her heels and ankles touching each other in a very reserved stance.  She lowered her head a bit, and raised her eyes to look at the small dome in the ceiling of the car that hid the security camera, a feature she chose this building for as a single woman.  Making sure she was not looking directly at it, she twisted her torso a bit, as if by accident, and set her full breasts into a jiggle from side to side in a tawdry display, the thin cotton ribs barely containing them, imagining the faces of the security team hopefully getting an eyeful.  She thought about her plan again, her anxiety approaching full throttle, "Once I get started, anyone who sees me is going to get a lot more than they or I bargained for."  A naughty grin crossed her face and she turned her head in an attempt to hide it from the camera.

The elevator came to a slow halt and the doors slid open to reveal the industrial gray-painted cinder block walls of the basement.  Sarah stepped out, immediately aware of the difference in feeling and texture from the floor of her hallway; ages of dirt and grime and tack from months of cheap cleaning fluids made her feet stick ever so slightly as she stepped out.  She headed right down the hall to the public laundry room, and made a mental note of the stairway just past the elevator, knowing she would be haunting it for a while once she began.  She checked over her shoulder, then gave the Exit door a bump with her hip to see that it was open and easy to push; it popped open with little effort,  "Good..." she thought. 

Down the hall, into and out of shadows cast by the line of dim exposed bulbs overhead, Sarah made her silent steps to the open archway that led to the suite full of industrial sized washers and dryers, tucked into a warren of small rooms connected by archways with chairs, benches, a few magazine stands and even some TVs mounted on arms in the corners of the room.  Sarah liked to have good reading material available while she normally waited for her clothes to clean and made it a point to donate magazines and old books to the public cause.  She wondered what would happen if she had ever absentmindedly left one of her Detective Magazines here, shiny pages filled with photos and exploits of women kidnapped or robbed, tied up and tormented in their homes at the hands of an intruder, for other tenants to find and peruse while they bleached their whites.  She let her mind wander at the possibilities and snickered to herself, "Maybe one day... as a test..." 

Two rooms held the washing equipment, washers and dryers separated, placed in large horseshoe-shaped arcs around the edges of the room with tables for folding in the middle.  The warmth of the dryers and the hot water pipes made the room much more tropical than the outside halls, and Sarah enjoyed the hot breath on her skin, her butterflies dancing as she realized just how much she would need it soon.  She placed her basket onto the folding table and took a look around the corner into the third room next to the washer space with a series of closets with old wooden doors for storage.  Sarah made a quick hop over to the closets and opened them in order; one had a hot water heater and plumbing with some mops and buckets left by the janitorial staff.  Another room had floor to ceiling shelves with gallon containers of solvents, cleaners, and community laundry supplies; the fumes in there were too harsh to take for long and the likelihood that someone would come looking for detergent or softener was just too high to make it a suitable hiding place.  The last door she opened had more shelves, but the items strewn across them spoke of the age and relative little use of this space, plastic plants from the lobby, boxes of letterhead from the old owners, shipping crates and some moving boxes with names she had never heard or seen in the building.  This would be the room in which to set up.

Satisfied with her find, she stepped back to the washer room and took a peek out into the hall.  No one seemed to be coming down to do laundry this early in the morning which was odd, but she was not going to overlook the gift.  Despite her seemingly infinite wait for Kate's response, she was still down here early and was quite possibly the first person that day to do her wash.  She took up residence at a medium sized washer and loaded her items in quickly, getting impatient for her impending pleasures.  As she reached the bottom of the basket, shaking out the last pair of shorts, she looked around the room once more and quickly stuck her head into the hall again, confirming her solitude.  "Strange..." she thought, the isolation was much desired, but almost too convenient. 

She emptied the last garment from the basket, revealing the tools of her plan hiding in the bottom: her handcuffs, her ankle shackles, a red ball gag with a single strap and her clover clamps.  Sarah waited a few more tense seconds, listening raptly for any approaching footsteps or the ding of the elevator, but only the low hum of the fan venting the room kept her company.  She had just the right amount of loose change rolling around the bottom of the basket as well and scooped it up and fed the waiting washer; detergent and softener poured into the hopper on top.  As the machine spun to life and the whoosh of water filler her ears, she reached down to the bottom of her shirt and started to peel it off; her eyes caught one of the many friendly reminders signs on the walls over the washers: "Please remain dressed while doing your laundry"; a stylized cartoon woman seen from the back tastefully nude in front of a machine.  "Not a chance" she growled to herself, desperate to peel away her covers.  Her thin shirt slid off of her, lifting her breasts and letting them fall, slowly swaying from side to side.  With shirt in one hand, she used the other to lift the elastic away from her waist and her shorts dropped without effort down around her ankles.  With a quick scoop, she pulled them off of her feet and opened the washer, quickly tossing them inside without a moment’s hesitation.  She gave one more quick listen, too nervous to tempt fate and stick her head out into the hall one more time, and pulled her toys out of the basket.  With a couple of quick steps, she bounded to the little-used closet and slid inside, pulling the door shut to just a crack so the laundry room light would bleed in and give her just enough illumination for her stay. 

The closet was the most spacious of the three she checked, yet layers of dust everywhere told a further tale of how often eyes inspected its contents.  The floor was open, except for a few large cardboard boxes, and Sarah slid them to the darkest corner of the room, a perfect place to hide while she waited for the day to slide by and for people to come and go.  She sat on the edge of a large box whose flaps were closed over each other to seal the top without tape, and she bent over and quickly snapped the shackles on her ankles, running through the ratchets with one quick push, setting them nice and snug.  Sarah grabbed her gag next and set the ball deep between her teeth, the familiar taste of latex filling her with dread and giddy anticipation as it snapped in place comfortably tight over her tongue; the straps pulled tight and secured by the buckle under her pony tail. 

She picked up her clovers and they felt cold and certain in her hands as she considered them for a minute.  The past memories of entrapment and agony at the "hands" of these little tools made her swoon and she disappeared in thought for just a second as her games in the shower flashed through her head.  Flush with a new sense of desire, she applied the clamps to her nipples and gave the chain a nice tug, setting the jaws tight on her delicate flesh.  The gag kept her groan in check as the clamps set off a spark of pain and pleasure in her that quickly spread to her pussy like a hot gasoline fire, the throbbing burn already punishing and rewarding her obedience.  Sarah hesitated for just a moment with her cuffs in her hands, regarding herself as still able to back out.  But she stepped into the beam of light from the door and noted her shackled feet and complete lack of cover, and realized with resignation and arousal that she was already well beyond any point of return to safety.  She was in for the long haul and she was ready to do it right;  with a second's courage, Sarah reached behind her back and snapped the ratchets shut around her wrists with two quick raspy pushes.

She sat on the edge of the box and assessed her predicament.  Naked from head to toe, Sarah was now gagged and nipple clamped, with her wrists and ankles chained, the keys to those shackles back on the counter of her apartment on the seventh floor of her building.  All she had to was get from here to there without being seen, past a room full of people soon to be doing their laundry and a busy lobby, up several floors and through her corridor.  She knew she was in for a long, silent wait and no sooner did these words ring in her head than she heard two women come into the laundry room, chatting away about how to divvy the work and get done so they could get out faster and enjoy the day. 

Sarah was already enjoying her day, and the first taste of anxiety she had imagined she would feel bloomed into being.  Her chest and stomach started to heave a little heavier as the women’s' voices seemed to carry right to the closet door.  She thought better about leaving it open for the light, narrow as the crack was, and stood up to go over and gently close it.  As she took a small step, the chain between her ankles rattled a loud alarm that she was not expecting and she froze where she stood; her eyes fixed on the open slot, looking for any possibility that the women had heard her hobbled step and would investigate.  A long minute passed and no one seemed aware of her presence.  Rather than tempt fate she took small slow sliding steps backwards and sat down again on the edge of the box, taking care to not lift her feet and set the chain clacking against the floor.  Poised on the edge as she was, she propped her feet up on her toes in an attempt to ease the strain on her ass; the corner of the box being pressed into her soft flesh.  Her eyes spent several more minutes watching the sliver of life beyond her dark room, watching and waiting, and soon more movement and voice could be seen and heard as the building came to life and got the day underway. 

Occasionally, Sarah heard the closet door next to hers creak open and close as people grabbed laundry supplies from its shelves, and the relative obscurity she felt secure in earlier that day became a stomach tying knot of anxiety; anyone could accidentally open her door and she would easily be found. Voices right outside her dark cave discussed sharing soap and borrowing money, promises to cover the laundry the next time, and Sarah sat motionless, terrified that any movement from her would resound in loud alert clattering drawing attention to her plight.  Her breath passed long and silent through her nose as her stomach pumped a nervous rhythm.  Her long wait spread to an hour as more people came and went from their mundane chores; and her legs, held stiff to prevent noise were getting achy. 

Sarah finally looked away from the door and let her eyes get accustomed to her darkness; she looked down at her breasts, full and exposed, responding to her subtle movements with a gentle dance of their own.  She switched her attention, taking a slow inspection of the other limbs she could only feel and engaged in the sensation of the naked skin of her back pressing against her upper arms, locked in place with little room pull away.  She extended her arms up behind her, leaning forward and letting her breasts swing free with an indecent jiggle she indulged in for just a moment, a strict strappado forcing her into that position; a wonderful figment of her imagination that she would have to consider for a future game, if she managed to get out of this one. 

The lean and her strict quiet protocols were being recorded in excruciating detail into her ass as she rode the sharp corner and she felt she could take it no longer.  The box was large enough to sit on comfortably, and she stood up and slid her feet back in micro steps to back up ever closer to the box, her calves contacting the side.  Confident it was enough of a move, Sarah gingerly sat back down and luxuriated in the sense of full support the box was now providing her whole ass and the tops of her hamstrings, distributing her weight more evenly and making her extended stay just a little more bearable.  She let her feet land flat on the floor, leaning forward enough to place some weight on her heels and toes.  Her attention returned to the door slit and Sarah was sure she could make out some of the voice and bodies being filtered to her senses from the narrow window, a giddy little rush of the cat swallowing the canary filling her as she imagined them unaware of her escapade just on the other side of the door.  Rapt by the goings on in the laundry room, Sarah leaned back a bit to ease the ache in her lower back, sitting up a little straighter. 

Before she could react, the lid of the box Sarah was sitting on bowed a little under her newly shifted weight and quickly gave way, the four flaps falling open beneath her.  Like having a chair under her instantly disappear, Sarah dropped straight down into the cardboard sleeve, ass first, her cuffed hands pressed against her back sliding in tight as well.  She dropped about eight inches at first, and the sudden horror of her situation forced an involuntary squeal from her gag which she desperately wanted to take back.  Not sure of what to focus on first, she watched and listened at the door, sure someone had heard her little cry or the bustle of the box giving way.  And as she fixated on the possibility of discovery, she continued to slowly slide lower into the ever tightening container, her arms becoming firmly wedged behind her against the back of the container.  Her feet were already lifted several inches off the ground, and as she could feel the back of her legs slowly being pressed into the front of the box as she quickly became folded in half, her nipple clamps nearly pressing into her legs. 

The slide was slow and relentless and every quarter inch she dropped made her heart skip beats.  The box seemed bottomless as her descent forced her legs together; her feet now eye level, the glint of the steel cuffs around her ankles clearly visible in the darkness, the chain swaying loose between them.  Her ass hung in space with no sense of where the end of this torment was.  Sarah could feel her terror in the form of a tremble that seemed to aid gravity in pulling further into her personal body cuff, the vibration fighting friction, bending her in half at the waist as if fate were ready to keep her in extended storage in the room next to the old dusty contents she paid little attention to earlier.  She tested her hands which were now firmly pressed against the top of her ass, her arms compressed tightly in the small space.  Her panicked breathing began to make her lungs ache as the sudden constriction of her chest by her arms and legs limited her ability to take full breaths.    She wasn't yet touching bottom, but there was already nothing to be done about it.  She was doubled over, arms and legs pressed against her in a box just big enough to squeeze her tight.  Her breaths were short and gasping, keeping her from a full-out cry into her gag, not that she wanted to do that. 

The box quickly engulfed the chained, naked woman beyond her ability to wriggle free, and Sarah was submerged deeply into the cardboard cube.  She didn't realize while she sat on it just how big and empty it was, and now it was quite filled with her legs, torso and arms and getting tighter by the minute.  She tried to pull her arms up, but she could feel the hard metal rings around her wrists digging into her ass, restricted in a small pocket at the bottom.  Sarah attempted to shift her hands from side to side to see if she had any movement at all, and sobbed a little as her arms remained tightly pinned in place. She kicked her calves, the only free part of her limbs still outside the box, and chain between her ankles rattled as it swung and twisted around itself, hanging in the air; and her kicks only seemed to deepen her descent into the cramped new prison she discovered.  The slow slide she felt against her arms and the backs of her legs continued, and she fought as hard and quietly as she could to writhe her way out, only forcing herself in tighter with each squirm.  She stopped fighting for a few minutes and surveyed her tight rigid cell; thick corrugated board soft enough to flex but strong enough not to break or tear.  The soles of her feet were now sticking straight out and were threatening to go higher than her head when she felt something brush against her pussy.  The bottom was approaching, but the ordeal was far from over, and the slow build up of pressure on her sex was driving her to distraction; even if she could get off while trapped like this, she couldn't move enough to do anything about it. 

Her eyes welled up with big wet tears as she thought about Kate, coming to an empty apartment with cuff keys on the counter, still almost a day away from caring about her missing friend.  This was the butter zone for her and the club, the missing hours spent locked away in their bliss.  But her game didn't factor in getting trapped like this.  Her head was a flurry and she had trouble focusing long enough to let one thought make sense.  Ideas for escape rocketed in and out of her mind, each seemingly implausible as the next.  She managed to think for just a moment and took what deep breaths she could.  With as much strength as she could muster, Sarah flexed her arms and legs, pressing as hard as possible on the inside of the box, hoping it was weak enough to simply tear with some force.  After a few whole-hearted tries, she surrendered to her prison exhausted and aching, sure she slipped in a little farther; her toes were even with the top of her head, the edge of the box digging into the pits of her knees,  and the object pressing against her pussy pushed even harder, seeming to try and insert itself. 

She shook her body with what little movement she could find, trying to rock herself back and forth, but the noise this made caught her by surprise; the box thumping hard and the shackle chain clacking, and she stopped, sure someone had heard her now.  Her eyes grew wide as a shadow passed by the door, darkening the bright slit.  Memories of Matt's invasion, creeping around her front door, returned fresh to her mind, but now she was the invader, playing in a public space and was fair game for whoever found her like this.  A voice spoke unaware of the room's resident at the threshold, "Nah... this is a store room, old junk from way back when.  That room has the detergent."  Murmurs seemed to join the conversation and the close voice chimed in again, "Must have been some boxes shifting.  I'm not paid up on my laundry supplies, so I don't want to get caught snooping." Sarah's feet now blocked her view and she tried to look around them as the shadows shifted and moved, sure the door was going to burst open any second.  The people by the door went back to the business of clean clothes and Sarah cried tiny painful sobs that wracked her aching chest, making her even more short of breath.  Her body shook with each gasp and she could feel her limbs swell against the sides of the box with each spasm.

The morning dragged on with agonizing slowness as Sarah hung helplessly in her unforeseen trap, her arms and upper legs pressed against her front and back while her feet dangled in the air before her, showing off her cuffs like shining bondage jewelry.  New voices came and went as the day progressed, making the laundry room quite the social spot.  Laughter, chatting and a few shouts were the melody to the non-stop drone of the machines whirring away that provided the baseline to Sarahs' world now.  The constant hum was loud and annoying; the rhythmic pulses of the washers as they ran their cycles became a maddening din in her ears, a completely unexpected downside to her plan of fun.  This would have driven her crazy had she not slipped into the box, wrapped up like a present beyond her control just made the sensory deluge all the more torturous.  All of that laundry being done also meant the heat and dampness of the laundry room slowly built over the day and crept into her dark cave.  Before long, large beads of sweat formed on her forehead and chest, rolling into her eyes and sneaking little trails down her sides and legs that weren't squashed flat in the box, slow crawling tormentors that made their disturbing presence know inch by inch.  The bottom of the box was quickly becoming uncomfortably hot from the combined heat of the room and its contents, and Sarah could feel sweat run slowly down from her stomach, over her legs and sneak over her pussy; ticklish little fingers she tried to ignore in vain. With nothing to distract her and completely immobilized, every little drop and itch was front and center and she trembled and squeezed her eyes shut and clenched her teeth with each new warm watery globule menacing her. 

Sarah got her breathing under control, short regular gasps that ached in her constricted chest, but she was quiet and hidden.  Struggling to focus in her condition, she realized she would have to let the day and the rush of chores pass.   She figured once evening fell, she would be able to work on her immediate problem, and then tackle all of the original ones.  The hours trickled by and Sarah remained firmly encased in her form fitted tomb, listening to the random voices and dozing in and out of consciousness, waking in fits and starts to various close noises and the cramps and aches that were wracking her body after all this time in her embarrassing predicament.   To her advantage, no one seemed interested in the closets beyond the one with laundry supplies and she remained hidden and helpless as tenants from one end of the building made their way with bags and baskets to the bustling social center to get their togs washed.  At times, Sarah thought it would have been fun to be part of the happy-go-lucky conversations and hookups that seem to give this basement its reason for being.  But as she shifted ever so slightly, the tinkle of her chains reminded her why she was here and what was at stake if any of those people happen to find her; and in silence she dutifully waited for the crowds to die down for what seemed like an eternity.  As the machine began one by one to finish their tasks, she eventually noticed the numbers of users ebb until at last; it seemed the room was empty.  She strained to listen for several minutes, her ears adjusting to the new quiet with just the rush of fans she heard when she started, ages ago it seemed.

Now feeling she was alone, Sarah shook herself side to side in earnest, trying to slide one way or the other out of her cramped holdings.  Grunts and moans started to slip out of her gag she again attempted to "unfold" and press her back and legs against the inside of the box, either to lift herself up somehow or just break the sides open.  She threw her free calves back and forth and started to rock from side to side, kicking her shackled feet as hard as she could to build a little momentum.  Soon the side edges of the box were lifting off the floor, and she kept reaching a point of equilibrium as the box would balance on an edge then fall back on the flat bottom.  The idea of crashing over on to her side and possibly banging her head on the floor kept her from committing fully to falling over and she soon gave up on the rocking.  She spent several minutes catching her breath with short unfulfilling gasps through her nose that left her light-headed and she sat and squirmed to no avail.  Sarah built her energy back up over the next half hour and gave her expansion trick an all out try, grunting and sweating, pushing as hard as she could against the seemingly indestructible cardboard walls that contained her.  She pushed past the point of her own effectiveness, giving less and less resistance with each barrier breaking attempt; giving up on any silence that bought her privacy and grunted with every straining push.  She finally threw her head back, panting and spent, unconcerned with whatever racket she was making, oblivious to anything beyond her immediate confinement.  Sarah leaned her head forward into her knees and rubbed wet tears out of her eyes that ran down her leg and mingled with her sweat. 

Rescue from Kate again crossed her mind, followed by the sheer impossibility that she would know to find her here, and she started to cry, choked little sobs that made her convulse as it contended with her shortness of breath.  Sarah couldn't imagine what to do next, and the thought of screaming for help, though likely too late for this day, crossed her mind.  But before she could resolve to reveal herself to some hapless person caught up in her game, or even attempt to build enough air in her lungs for one good scream, a blinding white light filled the room.  Sarah jolted harshly from the sudden shock and lifted her head just in time to see another sun-bright flash expose the room. 

Sarah blinked uncontrollably as her eyes were filled with the after image of a flash bulb, and after about thirty seconds, she was able to make out a hand holding a camera in the narrow crack of the doorway.  Her eyes went wide at the obvious discovery and she strained to see as her eyes continued to readjust to the darkness.  After several more seconds, the hand holding the camera in the narrow gap pushed the door wider and a silhouetted woman entered the closet, closing the door behind her and plunging both of them into darkness.  Sarah was now fully blind as well, and grunted meagerly, a poor attempt at "Hello?"  The woman didn't answer, and for a moment, Sarah couldn't quite tell if she was still there, when she heard feet shuffling around in the dark, getting much closer to her.  She offered another muffled grunt and the blinding flash went off directly next to her, momentarily illuminating her exposed lower legs in front of her before the flash's after image left her temporarily blind again. 

A soft voice inches from her face to her left surprised her with a start, "You probably don't know it, but I've been watching you all day.  Your laundry basket hasn't moved an inch since I first saw it.  I heard you fussing in here this morning and caught a glint of the metal you're wearing.  You're pretty well hidden, but I've been watching at you struggling away in here all day; admiring your handiwork.  I've already pleasured myself at the thought of your peril, trapped here, alone in the dark.  Very... satisfying."  Sarah turned silently toward the disembodied voice and listened intently to her stalker's confession, her mind racing to recognize the speaker.  A face became illuminated from below as if staring at a small brightly lit screen, but Sarah couldn't make out any details.  The phantom continued, "You're 714, right?  I've seen you come and go, seen what you like to wear and who comes and goes from your apartment...  I like that you like to walk around barefoot, very sexy.  I had my suspicions about you, and I was right.  I thought I was the only one here.  Weird, right, how you can feel so isolated even when isolation is what you crave?" 

Foot steps went back to the door area and the room lit up bright as day as a switch was flicked on the wall.  Sarah blinked her vision back and saw an attractive Latina, clad in a flower pattern sundress with black straight hair done up in a knot with two chopsticks behind her head.  Her dark brown eyes were fixated on Sarah, and she came back to the box and knelt down next to her.  She gently touched Sarah's knees and ran her left hand over her shins, over the metal rings locked around her ankles and let her fingers dance lightly over the tops of her feet and toes.  Sarah flinched at the touch, but was powerless to resist and stared at her discoverer intently.  She spoke again, "I have to admit, I'm a little flummoxed at your plan.  I don't quite know how you were going to escape from the box, but it is a great idea.  I'll have to try it some time." 

Sarah panicked at her companion's unfazed attitude towards a stranger's dilemma and squirmed, another attempt to break the box again; the woman leaned back on her knees and watched the helpless girl twist and turn.  She looked thoughtful for a minute and studied Sarah feet again, "I'm guessing maybe the box wasn't part of your original plan.  You fell in, didn't you?" 

Sarah nodded an affirmative and delight spread across the woman's face, revealing a beautiful but sinister smile, "This is even better.  So what was your plan?  Mad dash back to your place without being seen? Naked and exposed, hoping you can hide or are fast enough to avoid detection.  That is a lot of fun.  But in these shackles on the fire stairs... you'll be slow.  You'll just be able to clear each step.  Surprised me when I tried it.  I wasn't feeling quite as adventurous today, so I settled..."  With this, the woman stood up and pulled up on the bottom of her dress.  She lifted the hem line unabashedly up to her shoulder revealing her sexy curves and olive skin, shapely B-cup breasts accented by a pair of tweezer clamps on her nipples and round full hips clad in a steel and leather chastity belt locked around her waist.  She spread her legs a little to display the metal harness that ran between her legs, holding a dildo and an anal plug deep inside of her.  After a few beats she dropped the dress back into place and leaned into the terrified woman crammed in the box, "I'll help you out of this little trap you fell into, but you'll owe me and I expect full payment.  I know just what I'd like you to do.  And don't worry, your secret's safe with me... if you do as I say."  Sarah realized as the woman's arms fell back to her sides that she had a camera dangling from her right wrist; she obviously had pictures of her now, and her words sent a tingle of humiliation and anger through her.

The woman reached her hands over the edge of the box and started to tip it over to Sarah's left side.  Sarah gave a squeal as she felt herself pass the falling point, but the woman managed to keep the box under control and lay its passenger on her side.  The mysterious woman then grabbed the sides of the box and with some effort slid it off of Sarah's lower body, and she spilled out of the box and gave off an anguished moan into her gag, stretching again for the first time since early that morning. 

"Wow that was tight.  You're lucky I found you..." the woman smiled as she examined Sarah cuffed figure from head to toe, running her fingertips lightly over Sarah’s stomach and up to her tits, snatching up the chain of her clamps and giving them a light tug.  Sarah responded to the yank with a whimper and looked at the woman with disdain, but the stranger spurned the angry look and pulled the chain again, "You're going to pay me back for saving you, 714.  I can't wait, and I'll make it worth your while.  But first, you have a delicious self-bondage plan to finish up, so I will leave you to it.  Be careful though... there's a party on the roof tonight.  Lots of guests on the stairs; I figured that was going to be your route since you'd be seen instantly in the elevators.  Good luck.  I'll be waiting for you." 

The woman leaned over and gave Sarah a kiss on her stomach, and she responded with a little gasp that sent a wave through her mid-section.  Sarah lay on the floor splayed out in a helpless pose, exhausted and aching, as the woman again lifted her camera to her eye and snapped a full length photo of the naked woman she just rescued, confirming her snapshot on the little LCD screen, "Ooh... I got your whole body in that one.  That's a keeper."  Sarah grunted a half-hearted protest, still catching her breath, and the woman smiled again, turned and headed for the door, flicking the light back off again.  Before she opened the door, the formless voice spoke again, "You're not as nervous as someone in your position should be.  I think you've been caught before, and I think you've liked it.  That's good..."  The door opened, light from the laundry room spilling into the dark closet.  The woman leaned out, and pulled back in, "There's no one here now.  I think you're good for the rest of the evening.  See you soon."  With that she stepped out into the light and returned the door to the tiny crack Sarah set hours earlier.

Sarah lay on the floor on her side gasping through her gag, trying to get a full lungful of air again for the first time in hours, and tears ran over her nose and cheek onto the floor.  The thought that some stranger had compromising pictures of her was beyond humiliating, and the woman's ominous words rang in her ears.  "What did she mean 'I'd pay her back'?" she agonized, "Oh god, what does that crazy bitch have planned?  Oh crap... she knows who I am... she knows where I live... my door is unlocked..." 

Sarah curled into a ball as the fear of her calamity settled into her stomach, and she lay for nearly another hour on the dusty floor of her no longer exclusive hideaway.  As she slowly regained her composure, a thought crossed her mind that she never thought would while playing: she desperately wanted out now.  She had to get upstairs and get free before anyone else found her and took pictures of her, and that was the least of her worries.  She rolled onto her ass and scooted across the floor to the box laid on its side, and pushed up with her hands to get leverage and pull her feet under her.  She stood up easily enough and stepped to the door, fully aware of but unconcerned with the clatter the chains were making.  Sarah listened for several minutes and slowly opened the door revealing the uninhabited laundry room.  The whir of vents seemed quite loud now and she leaned her head out to peek around the corner; no one was there.  She stepped to the open doorway that led to the hallway and checked as well; it, too, was quiet and empty.  Feeling a remote sense of relief at this, Sarah headed to the stairway door, trying to take full strides and clear the distance quickly, but got tripped up by the certain twelve inches she locked herself into, and made the hobbled steps she knew she would have to take all the way up stairs.  She pushed the door open with her hip and breathed a muffled sigh as she looked at the concrete and metal stairs in front of her, about fifteen steps before coming to a landing and turning around to form the next set.  The metal ridges at the edge of each step dug slightly into her naked soles as she started her climb, and the woman's words of warning came to her; the chain was just long enough for her to make each tenuous step.  She would have to be slow and methodical or she risked tripping and falling, bad enough on this rock hard surface when your hands weren't locked in cuffs behind you.

She found a rhythm that made climbing slow but sure and she cleared the first two flights to the lobby floor when her heart nearly sank all the way to her feet and her stomach did a full somersault.  The stairs ended there at the entrance to the lobby and went no higher.  She stared at the door for a minute trying to remember the layout of the main entrance, when it dawned on her that the door she used on occasion to walk up or down to her apartment was next to this door.  She never walked down to the basement from here and never knew there was only one set going down.  A lump formed in her throat, and her eyes welled up. She approached the door backwards and pulled it open as slightly as she could and turned and caught the door with her toes. Spinning on the ball of her free foot, she peeked through the crack she just made and observed the front desk attendant, welcoming some party guests and making a call upstairs.  Sarah let the door shut softly and leaned her back against it, sucking air loudly through her nose and gag as she let the panic of her error set in. 

Minutes passed as she assessed her problem and her options; could she move fast enough and undetected through the lobby?  If she went back down stairs, could she ride the elevator back up without garnering notice?  She looked down at her nakedness, her arms hidden behind her, and took deep nervous breaths.  The woman's warning about the party came to mind, too.  More strangers would be in and out this evening, going to the roof.  "Wait!" she snapped to her senses, "My stairs don't go to the roof.  There's another staircase.  God, I hope the others go all the way down to the basement..."  She padded back to the steps and carefully made each descent at the limit of her chain's reach, just getting good enough footing to keep her balance and make her way back to the cellar.  She pulled the door open a crack behind her and caught it with her elbow, holding it open and listened sharply.  With no apparent voices or steps, she pulled the door open and slipped back into the basement hallway.

At the laundry room again, she looked down the hall and saw that past the elevators she rode down this morning the hallway made a sharp left.  "The other stairs must be down there..." she thought.  The chain between her ankles raised a very un-stealthy racket as she moved as quickly as they would allow to the corner and peeked around the edge; no one there either.  Sarah wondered how late it was and mentally slapped herself for not noticing if it was light or dark out when she observed the lobby.  She slipped around the corner and made her way down the barren corridor, devoid of any detail except the lights, again spaced too far apart overhead, making odd pockets of shadows.  Those shadows might be the only thing to save her if someone emerged from the stairway door right now, as there were no doors between her and the staircase entrance. 

Sarah tried to conjure a fantasy as she stepped lightly toward her goal, but nothing she could muster approached the intensity she was feeling hiding in plain sight, skulking about like an escaped prisoner.  The idea of the woman and her photographic evidence came to mind again and she was now far too freaked out to care about a story line; she was the story line.  And a real tormentor may very well lie at the end of her journey.  If she could only get back to her door and free herself, she might be OK.  The hallway ended in a dead end with one door to her left, and with great apprehension, Sarah gave the door a nudge with her hip and it slipped open just like the other one.  She heaved a sigh of relief, and walked forward slowly, pushing the door a few more inches and listened for voices and footsteps.  A distant remote laugh came to her ears and she froze, trying to look up past the next staircase to see if she could see the source.  Deciding the noise must have come from several floors up, she pressed in further and stepped into the stairwell, letting the door slip shut behind her.  The air smelled of old cigarettes illicitly enjoyed in full sight of 'No smoking' signs, barely visible in the dim light from the upper floors that meagerly illuminated this part of the stair tower; Sarah could feel more than see the history of secret puffs on those ‘last’ cigarettes as discarded filters crunched under her bare feet, each shackled step grossing her out a little more as she tentatively approached the stairs, barely visible before her. 

Sarah found the first step and made her slow climb up to the first floor and let tears of joy run from her eyes as she saw the stairway continue up.  She paused for just a moment to listen at the door, but decided it was best to get underway now that she was in the crucible of her journey.  Her arms began to throb with a dull ache, muscles tired from their cuffed position, and Sarah gave her arms a little stretch as she climbed step by step.  Her nipples were pulsing as well, teased with each step she made that set her unsupported breasts into a jiggle; the clamps responding to every slight movement.  By the time she reached the third floor, the stairway was well illuminated and any shadows she walked through that gave her a sense of privacy were gone.  Sarah was now fully aware of how vulnerable she was as she marched upward through this very public place.  She began to take even slower steps, trying to quietly set the ankle chain down with each step. 

As she rounded the halfway point between the third and fourth floors, she heard very clearly the distinct sound of laughter and a door opening and closing followed by footsteps that ascended above her.  Her heart raced as she listened intently, trying to determine if the intrusion was over.  A film of sweat started to glow on her skin from the workout and the nerves, and her wrists twisted in the cuffs behind her as she instinctively tried to wipe the beads forming under her breasts.  Sarah was pretty sure the people entered the stairwell from the fifth floor and she made every step very deliberately now, placing her feet very carefully while keeping the chain taut and setting it down gingerly on each step as she grew closer to this danger zone.  She rounded the fourth floor landing and stopped after every step for a few seconds to listen for partygoers.  Her legs started to tremble from the extreme isometric workout she was giving them, and she wondered if she'd be able to climb the rest of the way to the seventh floor.

As she came around the corner between the fourth and fifth floors, the door at the top of the steps creaked and opened a crack.  Sarah didn't wait to see who was coming through and made a loud clattering retreat around the corner and back down about five steps.  The door creaked a few more times, but ever opened; so she peeked around the corner to see if the coast was clear.  Her ears were straining to hear voices or steps, but the air was still.  Sarah drummed up an ounce of courage and decided to make the twelve or so steps to the fifth floor landing quickly and try to get past there as soon as possible. She rattled her way up, and as she mounted the last step, the door squeaked again.  Sarah gave off a terrified squeak of her own from her throat and snapped her head around to assess where she could go.  The door squeaked again and without another moment's hesitation she bounded as fast as she could to the space behind the door and flattened herself against the wall.  The door moved a few more times, only a few inches to elicit a squeak as if to taunt her; perhaps a draft from the hall. 

Then, just as she started to write off the annoying door, voices appeared in the hall, laughter and footsteps, and Sarah pressed herself hard into her corner, the only place she could hide.  The door, larger and heavier than the ones in the apartments, with an industrial quality and weight, swung wide, almost all the way to the wall, and stopped hard against her, compressing her even harder into the corner, her breasts pressed flat into the heavy wood panel.  Two men and two women walked through and made for the steps going up toward the roof party; letting go of the door as they went to the stairs.  The couples started their climb as the door slowly returned to its shut position, gradually revealing the bound, naked woman desperately hiding behind it.  As her cover fully vanished, Sarah felt a moment of relief as she realized the door was open just long enough for the four people to hit the next set of stairs, oblivious to the 'victim' below.  Sarah stomach rose and fell hard and fast and her heart was pounding in her ears.  She closed her eyes for a second to get her composure, again listening to the door squeaking, not quite shut in its frame. 

Suddenly the door started to open again, unaccompanied by the usual sounds she came to expect.  It opened slowly, as if on its own, and Sarah couldn't see who, if anyone was opening it.  The slow approach of the door formed a small triangular cell and she crunched as hard as she could into the corner as the door continued to swing shut around her.  Unlike the partiers, who gave the door enough of a push to just walk through, the door continued to shrink her precious space and didn't stop opening until the far edge of the door was only about two inches from the wall she stood flat against.  Even more so than the first time, she had to hold her breath as the door squeezed tight against her, her breathing forced to shallow breaths like they were while trapped in the box, with no room for her stomach or chest to expand and take in good air.  She waited for the quiet guests to let the door swing shut, counting the seconds of the latest crushing.  But the door never relented, and as the pumping of her breathing tried to push the barrier away, an unseen force seem to keep the space tight and compressed.  Sarah propped up on her toes, giving her another inch that the door quickly took back, somehow opening even wider.  She leaned her head back to look at the open space above her, trying to stave off the odd sense of claustrophobia she was getting wedged into the tiny space; even her blindfolds and masks didn't make her feel like this.  Thirty seconds passed, and Sarah began to panic as the door failed to close and release her.  Her already tired legs trembled as her calves worked overtime in her rigorous toe stand, and she felt light headed, as she again was unable to take in a full lungful of air.  Sarah closed her eyes to try and focus, but opened them with surprise as a strange wood on wood sound arose from the floor.  The door stopped pushing, but now seemed unmovable as every breath forced her flatter against the wood rather than move it at all.  Completely confused, Sarah let out a muffled scream as a flash erupted from her right side, just in the gap between the door's edge and the wall.

"Shh... you don't want people to know you're behind there," came the familiar voice of the mysterious photographer from the narrow gap.  "You're always just on the verge of being hidden, but I always seem to find you.  That's a lie, actually.  I knew you'd come this way eventually... you had to.  And I have been tingling in anticipation waiting for you.  Did the squeaking door scare the shit out of you?  Of course you were going to end up behind it, where else is there to hide?  And you'll need to hide, people have been up and down through here since about 7PM..."  Sarah now had a sense of how old the day was and her body ached with new understanding. 

The flash went off again and the woman continued, "I've got quite a porn collection starring you already.  Don't worry; you'll see the whole thing.  I'm going to leave the door open; I figured it would be nice to help the guests know which way to go to get to the roof, so I've propped the door open with a door stop; a nice heavy wooden one that should keep the door open and... rigid.  You'll be nice and hidden back there, so long as you don't make any noise."  Sarah could barely muster enough movement to breathe; screaming seemed out of the question.  "I figure the party will wind down around 2AM or so, so you'll have plenty of time to think about how you'll pay me back for rescuing you earlier.  This little stunt is just something to make the boring climb up the steps a little more interesting... trust me, I wish someone had thought of it for me.  Besides, I like knowing exactly where you are..." 

Sarah turned her head as much as she could in the tiny area, catching the eye and part of the mouth of the woman gazing at her from the narrow gap.  A desperate plea formed in her mind and came out as, "Nnnnn - leeeeeh..." from her gag as a wad of drool fell onto her shoulder and ran down her chest.  "Wait here, and behave yourself... and I'll make it worth your while... and mine..."  Even in the narrow gap, Sarah could see the wicked grin that sent a shiver through her earlier in the closet.  The woman's face disappeared from the door and Sarah heard footsteps make their way up and out another door above. 

Once again alone, she squirmed in her body-sized cavity, arms pinned as harshly as they were in the box earlier, tightly held against her back and immobile.  Sarah wasn't merely held in place by the door, she was nearly squashed flat; her breasts jammed in front of her as they spread wide, pushing up into her chin.  She tried to flatten her feet and ease the ache in her calves, but there was no room for her toes to stretch, so narrow was the gap from the door to the wall.  She could only stand the strain on the top of her foot against the bottom edge of the door for a second or two before she had to shift again and go back en point.  Sarah had less room encased in her tight corner than a coffin, and while it was quiet, she tried her hardest to budge the door for its jammed position.  But the heavy wood door stop held the eight foot high fire door in place, and soon the rigors of the day set in and helpless exhaustion was all she knew. 

The space was too tight for even good air flow and within ten minutes her trap was becoming quite hot and stuffy, the smell of the old stairway amplified.  She found the air above her head just bearable and leaned her head back as far as she could to not breath directly into the door just a few inches in front of her face, reflecting the heat and moisture of her breath.  Her struggles made her hot and soon sweat poured from head to toe.  Hot beads ran down her face with frustrating sensitivity, and all the big wet drops she suffered in the box in the basement now had a long run to make as they toured every inch of her right down to the ground. She could feel her hot breath build up around her head, warm and moist and suffocating with nowhere to easily ventilate.  Sweat stung her eyes and mixed with the tears that soon started, beyond frantic as she was with the outrageous events befalling her that day.  The only benefit of getting soaked was that she could feel herself slip and slide against the door, maybe making it possible to turn, but the rough cinder block wall behind her was reason enough not to grind her bare skin too hard in any attempt to free herself.   Short of breath, Sarah again became wracked with quiet sobs that shook her body; the door and walls seem to resist any movement and force back it upon her.  She wanted desperately to stay quiet in this very public place; choking back the sound of her cries made the lump in her throat ache as she realized that no one was coming to release her from this very personal hell for several more hours.  And even then her ordeal was not likely over.

After a few more valiant tries against the barrier, Sarah slumped forward, little room as there was to do so, and leaned her head against the hard wood.  She could feel the top of her breasts brushing her chin, and sweat and drool soon mingled there as well.  With her forehead against the door, she managed to pass out for a time, space and heat no match for her complete and utter exhaustion.  But sleep was elusive as her calves and arms shocked her awake with sharp pains and dull aches and cramps she could not ease with stretching.  In and out of consciousness, she lost track of time altogether, the antiseptic white fluorescent light bleeding in from the around the edges of the door providing the same harsh glow day and night in the windowless tower.  No one else had come through the door in either direction for the party above, and in the empty silence of the stairway, Sarah thought she could hear the reverie from up on the roof; at least a few big shouts when the crows cheered as one. 

The heat and sweat continued unabated, and Sarah went through phases where she could seem to ignore it until a large drop would travel down her back and somehow find the crack of her ass, trickle over her hole and run its teasing route down the inside of her leg.  Even held perfectly still as she was, she could sense the building moisture over every inch of her; her hair sticking to her neck and shoulders.  She was grateful she had put it into a pony tail this morning otherwise she might go mad with it covering her face, wet and stringy in her state.  The dull ache became more and more noticeable in her legs; from crotch to toe, the strict position made her joints and muscles work longer and harder than she could remember.  Her calves, stretched and taut from her forced toe stand, were passing the weight they were carrying to her knees which were locked into position with nowhere to bend.  The balls of her feet were going numb from holding the force of her whole body, as were her heels; pressed as they were into the wall behind her.  Sarah would occasionally squirm with the inch or two she had to move, but it stopped being helpful as time passed.

The tinny hum of the lights and the dark gray industrial paint on the door were the only outside stimulus Sarah had as she waited for release from her forced hiding place.  She began to imagine what that woman had in store for her once she let her out, but then her mind wandered to worse places, and Sarah wondered what she would do if the woman simply left her here, or forgot to come get her.  Was she drunk at the party herself, hiding her perversions in plain sight under her thin clothes?  What if she showed off her gear to the wrong person and they spirited her away to her horny delight; who would rescue Sarah?  She couldn't possibly allow herself to be seen by strangers, or worse, people she knew in the building.  She could never live the humiliation down.  Her anxiety closet swung wide open, and every detestable, debasing thing she could ponder was waiting for her just on the other side of the door; whether it was strangers finding her or the mystery woman returning, none of it was desirable.  It might be pleasant for a moment, but short-lived as scenes flashed through her mind of her naked and writhing while people she vaguely knew laughed at and tortured her with little regard for her humanity. 

Anita's exquisite mental games in the van popped into her head, and this quickly lead her to Kate, her most wonderful friend, and the only person under whom she would want to suffer such indignity, knowing how it would please her.  Tears began to well up and she fought off any loud sobs as best she could.  How would Kate ever find her in this oubliette, even she was forgetting just where she was?  Just as despair was setting in, overshadowing every other physical or mental input, a low rumble of sound shook her awake and she perked her ears up.  Within a few seconds, the sure sound of people coming down the steps was quite distinct and she reaffirmed her efforts to keep herself quiet as they passed.  The approaching crowd sounded large, and distinct but unknown voices were laughing and joking, a man and woman were sounding affectionate, some other male voices were comparing how drunk there were.  The departing shuffled past the sequestered hostage quickly, some continuing down the stairs while one or two seemed to break off and through the open door and into the hall.  A few minutes later, more voices and footsteps could be heard descending the staircase, post party conversations and plans in full swing.  A lot of speech patterns were slurred and many of the revelers were on tap for a hangover in the morning.  More people came and went, a parade that ebbed and flowed for at least forty-five minutes as the roof cleared out.

 A group of guys came down, sounding not quite like the others. As they hit the landing above Sarah, she could hear one of them, "Pick him up a little higher, he's slipping..."  There was the clear sound of feet being dragged and the others struggled with their payload.  On the floor with the hidden heroine, the group dumped their passed out friend against the door, and Sarah heart leapt into her throat.  The door was already open as far as it could go, crushing its cargo, and the drunk partier slammed hard against the surface and slid down onto his butt.  The fall brought him to, "He... hey... guuuysss... you... you're the best, d'you-know-that...?"  A frustrated voice answered, "Yeah, Mike, we're great and you're a piece of shit.  Thanks for cock-blocking us with your hurling and passing out, fuckhead.  Damn, that chick was hot..."  Another man's voice responded, "I know... c'mon, let's get him in a cab... he'll suffer enough tomorrow."  The two men, slurring but standing, called a cab and stood just on the other side of the door from Sarah, holding her breath the entire time.  She could hear a sliding noise as drunk Mike rolled over onto this side and made some maneuver that she couldn't make out that rolled him from the door to the wall, next to the narrow gap to her right.  S

arah turned her head as much as she could to see the very drunk man sitting and leaning against the wall out of the corner of her eye.  She let out and took in another long, slow silent breath as the scene played out before her.  Mike rolled his head back and forth, seemingly unable to control his neck muscles, and he turned to his left and peered behind the open door.  He drooled in surprise and spoke almost unintelligibly, "He... He... Hey!  There'sh a nekkid wo...wo-woman back hhhere..."  Mike threw his head back and let out a cackle like a hyena, pleased with his miraculous find.  He turned and stuck a few fingers in the narrow space, only a foot from Sarah's leg, "H-hi nekkid wommman...  he... hey... hey sssechkssy...."  Sarah's heart stopped cold, and she squeezed her eyes shut, the only part of her not trapped and immobile, desperate to block out the horror of her discovery.  The two friends hung up the phone, "OK cab's here ins a few minutes.  Yeah, Mike... naked women behind the door, wouldn't that be special?" the sarcasm completely intentional.  Mike kept his eyes fixed on the nude body behind the door as hands reached down and scooped him from the floor.  He protested, "Wet.. wa... wait, gud dammet, there's a hat neekid shick behind tha dooor..."  Sarah could hear feet dragging again, descending the flight in front of her, "Christ, now he's hallucinating.  Maybe we should take him to a hospital?"  The other responded, "Fuck 'em.  He'll live.  God, what an asshole."  Mike continued his tirade, "...buh tha nekkid shi... shis bahine tha... dooor..."  An angry voice retorted, "Man... you're not seeing anything naked tonight, none of us are at this rate..."  The simpering slurs of the drunken man disappeared as the footsteps and dragging vanished into the stairwell below.

Sarah listened for several more seconds for more passers-by, and hearing none let out the dire gasp of fear she was holding in through her gag that echoed off of the hard brick walls around her.  Sobs would not be silenced as she lamented the details of her discovery and the dumb luck that negated it.  Her breathing was again heavy and labored as it made her press hard and rhythmically against the unmoving walls of her cell.  The isolation behind the door was becoming unbearable and soon Sarah was wishing anyone would appear on the stairs, when slow foot steps did arrive and softly descended the stairs from above and quickly arrived at the narrow gap to her right, "That was close...” came the now familiar smarmy voice taunting her all day.  Sarah filled with rage as the woman's eye and corner of her mouth appeared in the gap, the hint of a smirk letting on that she almost allowed her to be discovered by three drunk strangers.  "I watched that Mike guy for a while at the party, he would have been trouble sober.  Fortunately his friends don't trust him either." 

Sarah let out a groan in her throat to protest the woman's apparent apathy to the whole unfolding of events she watched like a soap opera.  "I'd say you have one or two extra beers to thank for that...” she followed up, unconcerned at her victim's angst.  Sarah let out a loud sharp breath through her nose, and squirmed for the single eye of her tormentor to relay the suffering she was experiencing.  "I know, it's almost over.  There are a few people left, cleaning up the roof.  Once they're done and pass through here, I'll see to your getting out.  Hmmm... rescued twice today.  How will you repay me?"  Sarah groaned an angry response to the woman's insistence, and she retorted, faking sounding hurt, "Well... I can leave you here.  Someone will find you... eventually.  I hope they're nice..." Sarah thought about spending more time in her cramped prison for just a moment, then shook her head and pleaded, "Nnnn-nnnn... Mmm-mm."  The woman admonished, "Well then... as long as we understand each other."  She disappeared from the door and Sarah heard her ascend the steps.  The thought that this particular torture would soon be over renewed Sarah resolve a bit, but only for a moment as she wondered what the bitch had planned for her later.  Payment for "rescue", it seemed, was going to taken sooner rather than later.

Another hour passed as Sarah counted the seconds between the seconds, listening as the rustle of bags and boxes started to make their way down from the roof.  The clatter of garbage bags filled with bottles and cans to recycle echoed off the walls and rang in her ears as they bounced down the steps.  She could hear the people shushing each other as they tried to keep the cacophony down at the late hours, but drunk and silly, the hosts made their trips up and down until finally Sarah heard the roof door shut with a thud and the last steps down and back on the fifth floor were made.  Two voices reappeared at the archway of Sarah's door, "Just leave the bags by the garbage chute, and I'll make sure all the doors are closed."  Sarah's eye's went wide at this, and she resisted breathing too deeply or fast to make a lot of attention grabbing noise.  A quick set of feet went up the steps and returned within a minute, "Hey... roof is shut, we should probably close this one...” With that, Sarah felt the door shudder as the door stop was kicked out from its wedged position and the door started to slowly release the pressure on her body; but now she would have done anything to feel the force of it again to gain just a few more seconds.  She instinctively tried to swing her hands out to grab the handle, but her arms were numb and just about useless, the cuffs keeping her movements short. 

All at once, the relief of freedom from her horrible prison and the desire to remain in its encasing grip took her, and she did everything in her power to not scream.  Teasingly the door slowed down as it closed, stopped by its pneumatic arm, and she could hear the person on other side of the door step into the hall as the door continued to reveal her inch by inch to the empty stairway.  Finally, as the door met its frame, Sarah, though desperate to sprint up the stairs herself, collapsed in a pile onto the floor, sliding down the wall she now knew so intimately.  She sprawled out in a long stretch on the floor, choking back each little grunt she wanted to expel as her limbs were finally able to move for the first time in hours.  Arms, shoulder, legs, feet, toes all bent and curled as she worked out the painful kinks; oblivious to anything else.  She tried listening for noise at the door, hoping the tenants wouldn't make one last check of something they think they forgot, but she didn't care anymore.  Relief in the form of movement was bliss and she lay exposed on the floor of the fifth floor landing for a while.  Her head jerked and she realized that she had actually fallen asleep for a few minutes, the worst thing she could do in her situation.  She looked and the door remained shut, and she breathed a sigh of relief.  For a moment, she imagined how wonderful it would be to hear Kate coming up the stairs, ending this harrowing experience in her arms.  But the quiet of the hallway was overwhelming, and she returned to earth, isolated and helpless, considering her next arduous steps.

A few feet from the stairs leading up, Sarah inch-wormed her way forward, curling her legs and pushing against the floor with her feet.  At the stairs, she moaned and grunted as she rolled over and sat on the ground, facing away from the stairs, and reached back with her arms and placed the palms of her chained hands against the next highest step.  With a mighty effort, she lifted her body and pushed at the same time, landing her ass on the lowest step.  She repeated the process; acutely aware she only had a few good tries in her left, and made her way up fours steps.  Leaning to her right, she reached her arms high behind her and gripped the railing with both hands.  With the last bit of energy she knew she had, she pulled as hard as she could and got her legs under her, managing to stand again.  Everything hurt beyond her ability to be quiet about it and groans of agony slipped out of her gag as her muscles complained and her chains felt like there were biting her limbs.  As she finally got her balance and stood on her feet, her tits jiggled again for what seemed an age, and her clamps finally gave their review of the situation; she threw her head back as the dull ache in her nipples spiked for a moment to remind her she still had work to do. 

Slowly, still gripping the railing, she spun on her feet and gingerly took the first step up on her continued journey to freedom.  The imagined pleasures of the day dissolved into a harrowing interrogation where her captors had not even bothered to ask her a single question; the powers that be just seemed to want Sarah to suffer this day and she was obliging them.  Step by step, she groaned her way to the sixth floor, trying to listen for any possible intruders, but hearing only the buzz of the lights and the rush of blood in her ears.  Sarah had kept her arms in a painful reach to the railing, trying to keep a few fingers on the railing, and the effort paid off a few times as she stumbled more than once as her battery reach critical limits.  The last flight to the seventh floor seemed the longest, and she paused for several seconds after each step, measuring her balance and resolve to reach the safety of her apartment.  As she mounted the last step, the hand railing disappearing from her grasping reach, she stumbled a bit and landed hard against the door, leaning into it in an all-out bid to stay on her feet.  Minutes passed, and with a slow roll, she spun around and placed her hands on the handle and gave it a turn.  Against all doubt, the handle turned and she pulled the door open, renewed as the familiar smells of her hallway filled her nose.  She braced the door with a foot and slowly dragged her legs apart to pull the last door open.  With bleary eyes, she leaned into the hall, rejoicing at how empty it was, enraptured at how quiet it was at this late hour.

Sarah swung the door open all the way and stepped into the hall.  She remembered that she was nowhere near her own front door, having had to use a different stairway to get up here.  As the door slowly closed behind her, she huddled in the doorway, trying to recall what she would pass on the way back to her place.  Around the corner from here, she knew there were at least ten to twenty other apartments, doors that could open any moment.  There was the set of windows that provided daylight to the elevator banks, the other stairwell door, and finally her door.  Sarah gave one last listen and stepped out of the doorway, walking as quickly and quietly as she could, the chains between her ankles rattling all the way.  She passed five apartments doors before she got to the corner, and she peered around the edge to see an empty hall in front of her.  "Perhaps things are finally going my way..." she thought. 

She approached the long section of corridor with elevator doors on one side and big windows on the other, and got for the first time that day, a sense of time.  The sky was black, with buildings and cars below invisible save for the lights that carved their edges; red and white dots passing in either direction up and down the avenue below.  The buildings across the way were patchworks of rectangles; night owls indicating their existence with the beacons that spread out in all directions.  Sarah stepped into the first window and stood in full view of the countless anonymous voyeurs who she imagined she would love to give a quick show to.  The hall she was standing in was brightly lit, surely illuminating her white skin, visible for miles.  Rather than shy away, the faceless feature of the city before her gave her a renewed sense of the sexuality she was vying for with her game in the first place; and she stood there studying the windows, waiting for a flash bulb or two from the lucky window gazers who might just catch her.  A draft from the window brushed her skin, and the light hair on her arm stood up in response.  She stopped for a moment to listen for footsteps in the early morning emptiness of the hallway; the silence affirming her isolation. 

She walked up to the black window and pressed her breasts and stomach to the cold glass, flinching at first, and then slowly began to enjoy the hot of her flesh mingling with the cold.  She let out a little moan as the clamps pressed into her full bosom, their metal clicking softly against the window.  Sarah leaned her head back, exhilarated by her exhibitionist desires, wondering who was joining her at some anonymous window of their own across the void.  For the first time all day, she had a moment of pleasure she could control, and she wanted it to last.  She lingered there for a few minutes, slowly pressing herself harder against window, looking for life to share her moment with.  The late hour likely already claimed most victims, and her sense of isolation began to build. 

She thought about the strange woman who had been taunting her all day, savvy to her predicament, "Perhaps," she thought, "despite what this person’s done to me, I've found yet another playmate.  Maybe her company wouldn't be so bad..."  She was sure the woman would find some way to contact her for her "payment".  But for now, what she wanted was release from her restraints after nearly twenty-four hours, another personal best.  The intensity and adrenalin of her earlier traps began to fade, and the ache of the chaffing on her wrists and ankles really began to harry her.  Her shackles felt like they were shut a few ratchet clicks too tight and she was dying to take them off, each hobbled step rubbing her raw.  Her apartment and freedom were calling to her, and she felt ready to embrace it.


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