Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Soon But Not Today

by Mila V

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© Copyright 2021 - Mila V - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; M/f; fpov; naked; handcuffs; outdoors; breathplay; electro; blackmail; forest; cons; XX

Follow the author at https://mila-v.bdsmlr.com/

I didn't even plan for this session. Stars just aligned, I've got some spare time and a bag of bondage paraphernalia at ready, some particularly bawdy post on social media triggered my kink spring and next thing I knew I was riding my bicycle through the nearby woods imagining my upcoming adventure. Could have happened to anyone, right?

No, of course not. It takes exposure to the right stimulus at the right age, the right amount of pressure from parents raised in more prudish times and maybe certain genetics underneath of all that to truly enjoy binding oneself in compromising positions in the middle of the woods. I do this quite often.

There was my favourite spot in the remote part of the forest, about 200 meters off the trail. It's not easy to get there. I have to force my way though some shrubs and patches of stinging nettles, brush away spiderwebs, drag my bike over fallen trees and overgrown trenches. At last, I enter a small clearing. On a satellite image it looks but a light speck. On the ground, though, it's about 10 meters wide, with a tall dry pine tree in the middle.

First of all I put my camera on a tripod. The sky is overcast, but I still have hopes for decent enough pictures. I choose a branch stub on the dead tree high enough that I can reach it only standing on my tiptoes. That's the place to hang a timer lock. The lock holds a key to a small padlock which I will use to lock my gag strap. The key will drop to the ground when the time comes. Time to strip. I take off my shoes, get rid of shorts and t-shirt and finally pull down my panties. Naked, I crouch down to rummage through my bondage stuff. I pull out the gag, a not terribly uncomfortable 4 cm rubber ball. I get my next key, it will open my chastity belt. I put the key under my tongue, smile at the camera and pop the gag behind my teeth. I pull the strap tight and lock it on the back of my head. Yet another key with a string attached goes right into my pussy. It will later open my cuffs, but for now it has to be locked inside me with a dildo and the belt. I take out of the bag that studded 3d-printer elastic monster. By now I'm so wet that I hardly feel any discomfort when I spread my nether lips apart and push the dildo inside. I start fumbling with the chastity belt when the first rain drops fall.

I groan with displeasure. The rain picks up fast. For a moment I think about continuing as planned. Sitting here naked and bound waiting for the first key to drop while soaking in the rain has its appeal. But no, neither my timer lock nor my camera are waterproof. If it really starts pouring, I could get stuck indefinitely. Mumbling curses through my gag I scramble for the first key. I'm fortunate - a couple minutes more and I would be cuffed hand and foot. I take off the gag, get the second key and pull out the dildo. There's a problem with the third key, though. The string got too deep and I can't quite reach it. Fuck, I don't have time for this! The rain turns to a shower. I pick up my already drenched clothes and shoes, get dressed urgently, fold the tripod, grab my stuff and roll the bike back to the trail.

I'm in a hurry now, so I don't follow any waymarks, just break through the brush in the general direction of the trail. I'm wet and dirty, with leaves and bits of tree bark plastered all over me, wisps of spiderweb in my hair. My eyes are overflowing with water, I can't see very well and I almost run the front wheel over a pale form lying on the ground.

"Shit!" I startle. It's definitely a human. Years of murder shows flicker in my head. But no, the person moans and tries to move. I drop the bike and rub my eyes. It's a girl, naked and bound in a merciless hogtie with a few coils of coarse rope. She's lying in a shallow ditch, partially covered with fallen leaves and other detritus. She turns her head and I see she's blindfolded and gagged with some rag tied in with more rope. I'd say she's in her late twenties, long brown hair tangled and dirty. I freeze for a moment deciding what to do. She's obviously in distress as I would be caught naked and bound in this weather. But what if she's not willing to be seen by strangers and accept any help? I probably wouldn't. She shivers, her hands and feet turned bluish, I can see blood vessels bulging on her strained forearms. Oh, hell. I lean over her and touch her shoulder.

She jerks away from my hand.

"Easy!" I say, "I want to help you. Who did this to you?"

Oh, silly me.

"Did you do this to yourself?"

She nods and then shakes her head.

"Do you want me to untie you?"

And again she nods and then shakes her head vigorously. I see, it's complicated. I reach for the knot behind her ear and undo the gag. She spits out the rag and bursts out:

"Thank God, yes, you gotta help me, but no, don't untie me! He'll be back soon and he must not know!"

"Hey, slow down! Who? Why?"

"Basil, the bastard! He's got some dirt on me, some compromising photos on his phone. And he blackmails me into doing degrading shit for two weeks now. Today he ordered me to go to the woods, tie myself up and wait for him."

"For two weeks! Why didn't you go to the police?"

"I can't! Nobody should see those pics! I have to erase them first and then deal with the dickhead. Help me, please!"

"But how? What should I do?"

"I don't know! Fuck, I can hear his truck! Remember, Garden Lane 61, 251. Quick, gag me again and go!"

Now I hear an engine too. I grab the rag, now wet and dirty, shove it into her open mouth and tie off with a rope. I pick up my bike and scurry away to hide behind bushes some distance back. I really should get as far as I can, but it just feels wrong. I might be a kinky slut getting off on bondage and humiliation, but I value my privacy and anonymity highly. Blackmail would be such a nasty breach of those, I can't let it happen to someone else. I hear the truck stop and for a few minutes shrubs near the trail crunch and rustle - Basil isn't very delicate. At last, he finds her, picks her up fireman-style and carries away through the shaking thicket. I couldn't take a good look at him, I saw he's a big man with blond hair and that's pretty much it.

I wait till the truck engine sound fades and proceed to the trail. By this time the rain almost stopped. I need to decide on my course of action. I whip out my phone and run a navigation app. Garden Lane 61, 251. It's in a suburb, one of the summer houses districts, about 6 kilometers from here. I lean on the pedals.


On weekends this district bustles with life, but on weekdays most of these houses are empty. A few retired grannies live here full-time, I see a man or two working on their vegetable patches, but otherwise the neighbourhood is quiet. I see a black truck parked in front of house 251. I lean my bicycle against the nearest lamp post and try the gate. It's open. I slink into the yard. What am I doing? I don't have a plan, I don't have a backup, I don't have any weapon to defend myself short of a somewhat oversized dildo. I hear a yelp of pain from the house and instinctively fall to a cautious half-crouch. Ok, I'm still in a better position than the girl inside. I can move, I can run away and I'm not being blackmailed into obedience. What would he do, kill me?

I try the front door and it's locked. Makes sense. I go around the house looking for another way in. All the windows are shuttered and draped with curtains, but I find a big enough crack between the shutters on one of them. The room is lit dimly with a single light bulb. Corners are crammed with building materials and garden tools, but in the middle there's an arrangement of a table, a couple of stools and a wheelbarrow. The girl is lying on the table face down, still naked, her hands are bound behind her back and her feet are spread and tied down to the table legs. Her torso is hanging over the edge with her head lowered into the wheelbarrow tray. The man stands over her and when he pokes her butt cheek with a stun-gun I hear a crackle and her previously limp body jerks, she lifts her torso abruptly with a shower of water droplets from her hair. She strains to hold her head above the water now, whimpering softly.

"Yeah, cry all you want, just don't make too much noise. You'll like the outcome even less than I will," says Basil and applies the stun-gun to one of her bare soles. I literally hear her teeth snap as she tries to suppress another yelp.

What should I do? Basil is a burly-looking man, I could probably knock him out with some sort of improvised blunt weapon to the head if I manage to catch him unawares, but it's a high risk endeavour. Fuck, it's the job for a SWAT team, not a bored housewife with a bag of dicks and a timer lock! Hey, it could actually help me. First of all I should separate him from his phone.


I knock on the door and trot behind the house. I would very much like to see what happens, but it's not safe, really. I hear Basil walks to the door, fiddles with the lock, the door creaks. Then there's a splash, metallic clang and stream of the choicest profanity rips through the quiet afternoon air - music to my ear. Through the crack in the shutters I see him return to the torture room pulling off his drenched shirt. I can't help but giggle - Basil fell for the oldest 'bucket over the door' trick. Thankfully, he doesn't take off his wet pants, but he removes his phone from the pocket and puts it on a window sill along with the stun-gun. Muttering something about damn kids he walks up to the girl and lifts her head out of the wheelbarrow tray by her hair. Alrighty, phase two then.

I wait for two minutes checking time on my phone, run to the front door and knock again. This time I wait just around the corner. Basil storms out. I try to blend into the wall waiting for his steps to crunch nearer, but instead I hear my timer lock clicks and another bucket of water crashes to the ground in the garden. Basil spits a curse and takes off that direction. I slip inside the house, bolt the door behind me and run to the back room. Not minding Basil running around and spewing obscenities I start working on the knots. I undo her hands first, and she can hold herself out of the water while I'm tearing at her feet bindings. I help her off the table when Basil starts yanking at the door.

"It's you! What did you do?" she croaks.

"I locked him out. Don't worry, we can get out quietly, I've broken the lock on the window shutters here. We just need to open it."

"The phone! I need his phone!"

"It's alright, he left his phone inside, here!"

"Oh, thank God! And thank you, I don't even know your name!"

She grabs the phone and tries to wake it up.

"Fuck, it's locked…"

The front door frame splinters and Basil bursts inside. Now he's waving around with some antiquated-looking, but very real revolver.

"What the… Who are you?"

"Nobody! Just helping this poor girl here."

"You got it all wrong! She's a…"

He steps inside the room and the naked girl lunges at him. She hangs on his right arm, the gun goes off, it's fucking loud - I'm stunned by the sound alone. I should help her, but my ears are ringing, I can't even hear them grunting and cursing each other. She reaches for his neck and suddenly he drops to the floor. She keeps pressing the stun-gun to his neck till he stops trying to get up. At last, she gets off him panting and shaking. Now I take my hands off my ears and finally can hear, albeit somewhat muffled.

"Is he alive?" I ask.

"Sure. He's of no use for me dead. Pass me his phone, please."

"Ok…" I turn to get the phone that she dropped and then lightning strikes. My neck hurts, my eyes roll up, my knees buckle and I fold down.


I see a dream. It's fragmented and patchy, I can't quite figure out the whole sequence. I see two people kissing, it's a guy and a girl. And then it's not a guy, it's two girls. And then the girls aren't kissing, they're fighting. One girl stabs another with something sharp, there's blood and a dead body, and the guy is still there, dithering in the background, watching and filming it. I start to hear voices mumbling, it's mostly insults and profanity, but I can make out 'pay for this' and 'password'…

And then I wake up with a bang. Now I know how a handgun sounds outside of a film and that's it. I open my eyes to the sight of the girl in my clothes standing over Basil with a smoking gun in her hand. Blood pools around his head.

My neck burns and my head aches, but otherwise I'm alright. I'm sitting naked in a corner, my right hand is cuffed to some pipe. We're in another room, it's a kitchen. The floor is ceramic tiles, there's a sink, a gas stove with a large red propane tank and some Brezhnev-era furniture.

"Ah, you're awake. That's unfortunate. It would be better for everyone if you were out cold."

"Why?" I ask, "what have I done wrong?"

"Oh, it's nothing personal! You've done good, I'm very grateful, really! I just couldn't let Basil live, he knew too much. And now I need you to cover up my involvement in all this. Also, I need your clothes, the bastard couldn't be bothered to bring mine. Sorry about that."

She picks up Basil's phone from the counter and unlocks it.

"I can't believe his pass is 3 symbols long, I could just brute-force that days ago. What a dolt."

She points the phone camera at me and snaps a few pics.

"So, Basil kidnapped you, kept you entertained for a few hours and then negligently left his gun in your reach."

She puts down the phone and approaches me with the revolver. I cringe in fear, but she just takes my left hand, presses the handle into my palm and makes me close my fingers.

"The fight started, you shot him, but before that you've made some potshots…"

She points the gun at the propane tank. I realize what she's up to and flinch, but she holds my hand tight. On a third shot she nicks the armoured hose connecting the tank to the stove. Then she points the gun at Basil's body and keeps pulling the trigger until it clicks empty. She lets go of me leaving the useless gun in my hand.

"…done some damage to the gas equipment and promptly died of propane poisoning."

Even through the ringing in my ears I can hear gas hissing angrily. She stands up.

"Well, I really shouldn't stay any longer. I'm sorry."

And she leaves, closing the kitchen door tightly.

I can smell gas already and try to breathe shallow. Or should I breathe deep while I can? I drop the gun and yank the handcuffs with both my hands. No use, the pipe is bolted solidly to the wall. I look around for some nail of wire to use as a lockpick when a sudden thought strikes me. Those are my handcuffs! I meant to use them in my session earlier. And the key to them is… Yep, still inside.

Not today, my dear, not today.

16.05.2021

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