Chapter 1: Meeting In the Park
I'm not a morning person. I was still up and it was near dawn on Saturday. But it was a beautiful, warm night and I decided to take a walk in the park instead of going to sleep. When I got to the park, the sun wasn't up, but it was light enough to walk safely as long as I stayed on the trails. And this was a perfect time since it would get hot in a few hours.
I'd never been here at this time, before. I didn't know whether this was a time nobody would be here, or if people might be jogging before otherwise starting their days. (I should have been concerned about criminals, but I didn't think of that at the time.) I was more than a bit surprised, though, when I went around a bend and saw her.
She was surprised, too, and obviously scared at the sight of me. I don't generally think of myself as scary. I'm five foot two and just a bit overweight, and much of that overweight is my boobs. But I could understand why she found even me scary. She was nude, gagged, and bound.
She turned and tried to run away, but she couldn't move very fast as there was only about a foot of chain connecting her ankles. I enjoyed the sight of her bouncing bottom as I caught up to her and put my hand on her shoulder.
I said, "You know you can't possibly outrun anyone, and I don't want you to get hurt trying."
She stopped, but was still obviously very scared. She kept looking around everywhere except at me. She kept trying to pull her hands out of the leather cuffs behind her. She was breathing hard.
It was obvious that she was in this state either consensually or by her own hand. If she were in trouble she'd have been thankful to be found, especially by another woman.
I said, "Rather than running from me, maybe you'd better continue to where you were headed. The sun's coming up and it'll be full light, soon. I'll come with you." I might have offered to ungag her, but she was wearing a ball-gag harness that was tightly locked on.
She didn't look happy about my comment, especially about my accompanying her. But her fight-or-flight reflex calmed some, probably because she couldn't do either. Without acknowledging me, she turned back the way she had been going.
She walked as fast as she could, which wasn't very. I had no problem keeping up. And I had a chance to get a better look at her and her accoutrements. She had a very nice-looking body and it was fully on display. I'm mostly straight, but beauty is beauty, and sexy is sexy. And "mostly" means "not totally."
Her leather wrist cuffs were connected by a padlock, bringing her arms tight behind her and thrusting out her breast. She had medium-sized, firm boobs that jiggled nicely as she walked. Her ankle cuffs seemed to match her wrist cuffs, and each had a small padlock both keeping it closed and attached to one end of the short chain.
The only other thing she was wearing was a rope tightly run around her waist and through her groin. Being kinky, myself, I suspected that it was holding things in.
I couldn't figure out what kind of one-sided small talk I could make, so I just walked with her.
She kept looking around, which I guess I'd be doing too in her situation. She no longer ignored me and sometimes looked right at me, beside her. Each time I smiled back at her, but I don't think it made her feel any better.
A few minutes later we came to a parking lot with one car in it. She managed to increase her speed a bit and made straight for the car. I enjoyed watching the contortions she had to make to get the key from on top of one of her tires. I also enjoyed the show of her backing up in order to unlock her trunk.
That's when I swooped in and grabbed the large, easily-graspable key ring from the trunk. The ballgag distorted her face, but she looked very surprised. It was the first time in my life that the word "gobsmacked" seemed appropriate. For the moment, at least, she was so surprised she forgot to be afraid of me.
That didn't last long. She obviously realized she was naked, helpless, and at my mercy. I suspect that the motions she was making were futile attempts to cover herself, but was a marvelous show.
The key ring barely fit into one of my back pockets. I looked in the trunk and saw a dress. I took it out and said, "If you don't want to keep standing here naked, stand still so I can get this on you." If she hadn't been gagged she'd have given me quite an argument, but she soon stood still and glared at me. Fear, surprise, and pique, all within just a few minutes of each other. I wondered how many more emotions I would bring out in her.
The dress was too snug, since it had to go on over her arms. I couldn't zip it at all, but it covered everything that had to be covered, not that that made her happy.
I used the same key to unlock the passenger door, and helped her in. She'd probably never been in her own passenger seat. I belted her in and pulled the belt all the way out before letting it ratchet back. That way, it locks tight. I managed to pull a couple of extra clicks out of it.
I closed the door and went back to her trunk. I saw a purse in there and found her license. So now I knew her name and address. I took a picture of it with my phone, after I went to my phone settings and turned off all sounds. I closed the trunk and got into the driver's seat.
I took her key ring out of my pocket. "If these keys can remove your gag, I'll do that. But. If you scream or insult me or say anything other than answering my questions, I'll put the keys on the dashboard and leave."
It didn't take her long to figure out she wouldn't be able to get the keys. She nodded and hung her head.
It took me a few tries to get the right key, but all the locks on the harness opened with one key. I unlocked and unbuckled it, but left the ball in her mouth. "Last warning. Are you going to behave?"
She kept her eyes down as she nodded. With some difficulty I pried the ball out of her mouth. As she worked her jaw, I said, "I brought this water bottle from your trunk. Do you want a drink?"
She quietly said, "Yes, please," so I uncapped it and let her drink from the bottle, slowly so I didn't choke her When she nodded that she was done, I said, "Betty, I'm going to drive you home. We'll talk when we get there. When we get close, you may give me directions. In the meantime, you'll stay silent, right?"
She nodded.
The drive took close to half an hour, and she looked nervous every time we were slow enough that a driver or pedestrian could, if they wanted to, look into our car. There was nothing odd to see. All of her bondage was too low to see, behind her back, or under her dress. I don't think that was a comfort to her.
She did direct me for about the last mile. She started sounding more confident as she spoke more... until we got to the last block and she realized what was to come next.
She had a small but nice-looking one-story house and lawn, with no garage or driveway and about a fifteen yard walk from the curb to her door. She started to look greenish.
I said, "I'll tell you what. If you'll agree to go along with this, I'll go into your house and get some kind of coat to cover your back and hands. I'll remove the chain between your ankles, and then help you into the coat. But when we get into the house, I'll remove your clothes and relock your ankles."
For the first time, I saw a positive expression on her face as she said, "Yes, thank you." It's amazing how a little kindness can make someone forget so much of what's come before. Maybe it's Stockholm syndrome.
In any case, I unlocked and took the chain from her ankles. It was awkward to do without getting out of the car, but that was the only way to not out her (and me) to her neighbors. I then used the obvious house key to let myself in. I found a closet near the door that had a stylish raincoat. Between my body, her body, and the coat, I don't think anyone could have seen her predicament even if they were looking closely.
When we got in, as promised, I removed her coat and dress. Then I used one of the padlocks to lock her ankles together, without the chain. She looked down and said, "Um..."
I said, "I didn't say you could talk. That 'Um' is going to cost you. Now, go sit over there." Over there was what looked like the kind of overly-upholstered chair that's hard to get out of even if you're athletic and have use of your arms and legs. It faced the couch, which I intended to occupy.
Her unhappy face came back as she took small hops until she fell into the chair. I enjoyed watching the bouncing of her boobs and other body parts.
I said, "Now, tell me all about it." When she was quiet long enough I added, "Begin at the beginning and continue on until you come to the end: then stop." I don't think she recognized the quote. She also didn't take the advice.
"That 'Um' will cost you two strokes with a paddle. Each pause of ten seconds will be an additional stroke. If I can't find an appropriate paddle, we'll multiply the strokes by, lets say, five for the number of hand-spanks. I'll be nice and give you only one each for the pauses so far, for a total of four, but your next ten seconds starts (I pulled out my phone and found a timer app) now. And since the phone was out there anyway, I took another picture (just figure I'm taking a picture whenever I mention the phone, and maybe some other times).
After ten seconds, I said, "That's another one for five. But I'll help you get started. Tell me about preparing for today's excursion." Then I added, "Time starts now," as I reset the timer.
She said, "I... I've got to pee so bad I can't even think!"
"Okay," I said while turning off the timer, "where's the bathroom?"
She pointed with her head, and I helped her out of the chair. It wasn't easy, but it gave me a lot of opportunities to get handsy. I untied her crotch harness and said, "I don't know if there's anything in there, but it'll cost you five strokes if you drop it. And I'm not fishing it out of the toilet."
I went with her as she hopped to the bathroom, in part to make sure she didn't fall. I had to help her sit so she wouldn't either fall off or break the toilet. While I stood there watching, she almost said something, but remembered in time what it would cost her.
But I knew what she was going to say, so I told her, "Don't worry. I don't get off on watching people pee. I'm just here to make it more embarrassing for you. And yes, it might get a little messy with your legs so tight together, but I'm sure you'll manage somehow. And maybe you've never peed before while holding in a dildo; welcome it as a new experience."
After a while of not hearing any tinkling sound, I took out my phone and told her, "Either pee or talk. Your ten seconds starts now.
"That's ten seconds for another stroke... and another ten for another stroke... and." Apparently she did have to pee, and badly enough to do it while I watched.
Without even looking, I figured just toilet paper wasn't going to be enough, so I slightly moistened a handy washcloth with warm water. Then I helped her stand and cleaned her up (with more chances to get handsy). Then a slow, showy hop back to the living room and sitting back down. As I started my timer, I prompted her with, "Preparing for today's excursion".
She very much didn't look at me as she talked. "I scouted that park for months. I didn't go every day, but when I did there was never anyone there before 7:30, and usually later. So I put on my cuffs, and put the rest of my gear into a backpack. I drove there and put the keys, water bottle, dress, and such into the trunk, with the car key on top of the back tire. I walked 45 minutes to the small, kinda hidden clearing I found. I took the locks, chain, and harness out of the backpack and put in the dress I was wearing and my shoes, leaving me bare. I locked the backpack and chained it to a bush. So I was committed to going back to the car bare. I locked the chain between my ankles, locked on the harness gag, and finally locked my hands behind me. I've never been so turned on or so scared. And with my hands behind me, I couldn't do anything about being turned on.
"There was a nearly full moon, so I knew I'd be as okay coming back on the paths as I was on the way out. I should have used a longer chain between my feet. It was a lot slower than I expected. Even so, I should have been back to my car with plenty of time. And then... and then there was you." She looked at me for the first time since she started talking.
I said, "Good. That'll do for a start, but three strokes for not telling me everything. If you don't want another three, tell me about the crotch rope."
When she didn't say anything, I ostentatiously started the timer.
Before ten seconds elapsed, she said, "I.. I.. I put in a butt plug and a dildo, and tied the rope to keep them in."
"Before you left, or in the park? Did you drive with them in?"
She looked away again before she said, "Here. I wanted to be able to wash the lube off of my hands."
"Okay, only one more thing before we get to your paddling. Show me the rest of your toys."
I helped her stand up, but she just stood there. I told her, "At this point, it'll be two for every ten-second delay. Get hopping." She did.
On her bed was a largish gym bag. I saw ropes and gags and chains and plugs, all jumbled together. I tsked while she leaned against the wall, and started taking everything out. A girl could have a hell of a week, or maybe a month, trying out all of that. But one thing I needed wasn't there.
"If I can't find a suitable paddle, I'll have to hand-spank, and that'll mean multiplying the strokes by five. The count stands at ten, so that'll be 50 hand-spanks. I suggest you find me a paddle."
"Um, the hairbrush in that bathroom might work."
Yes, the hairbrush had a substantial flat wooden back. As usual, she wasn't looking at me when I said, "That was a quick response with a very good answer. Has this brush already seen paddling use?"
She made several very quick very small nods.
I took the paddle and said, "Let's go back to the living room."
I sat on the edge of an ottoman and patted my lap. She hopped over, but needed my help to lay across. Then I said that I forgot something and helped her stand again. I brought back a simple ball gag from her toys and said, "I don't want the neighbors hearing you scream, if you do," and buckled it on her. Then we got into position again.
For a bit, I just admired the butt in front of me. Then I caressed it for a bit, on and off. After one of the off times, I hit her hard with the brush, without warning. I'm glad I gagged her because that would have been a fairly loud scream otherwise.
I continued paddling, slowly, concentrating mostly on where she sits. Ten swats isn't enough to redden much of an area. I saw she was crying just a bit when I helped her up.
Then I helped her to the kitchen where I sat her down on a sturdy, upholstered metal chair, with her arms behind the chair's back.
"Don't go away."
I came back with rope, keys, and a few other useful items. I spotted an empty grocery bag and took it, too. I tied her torso to the chair, making many loops and tying many knots, always in front. When I was done, I knew it would take at least a few minutes for her to get out of the chair even if she had full use of her arms and legs.
I took her chin and looked her straight in the eyes. I said, "I'm going to take your cuffs off. If you so much as touch the rope with your hands before I tell you that you can, it'll mean another twenty with the paddle. Do you understand?" She nodded.
I unlocked her wrist cuffs and removed them. "You can unkink your shoulders so long as you don't touch the rope or me." She did that as I took the cuffs off of her ankles.
Then, as her eyes widened further than I thought possible, I took off my clothes and put them in the bag. I put on the wrist and ankle cuffs. I locked on the chain between my ankles. I put on the dress she half-wore home; as I hoped and expected, it was large on me. I put my own key ring on the table showing her, "This one opens my apartment door. I live near the park; I can give you directions as we get close..."
I picked up one of her ball gags and continued, "Assuming you ungag me. You may untie yourself, now." Then I gagged myself, pulled my arms inside the dress, locked my arms behind me, and sat down.
Chapter 2: My Turn In the Barrel
I enjoyed watching her untie herself. She was so busy concentrating on the ropes and knots that I'm sure she didn't notice that I was staring. Mostly I was staring at how nicely her boobs bounced as she worked.
When she was finished, she removed her gag and stood up. She put her key ring where I couldn't reach it on my own, then told me to stay in the chair. She left the room.
I was fine as long as things were moving along. But now I had a bit of time to do nothing but think. And I began to wonder if I made a mistake – a big mistake. Pretty much the only thing I knew about this woman was that she liked self-bondage. I hoped that my leaving her (mostly) unhurt and then putting myself in her power would be enough for her to return the favor.
She wasn't gone long, and when she returned she blindfolded me. It was a nicely-made blindfold, not just a piece of cloth. And it had straps running over and under my head to make sure I couldn't dislodge it.
Then she helped me stand up and took me somewhere. I'm not sure where, but it wasn't the same room. She took off my (her) dress and clipped something to my wrist cuffs. Then I felt my wrists being raised uncomfortably. By the time she stopped, I was bent over about ninety degrees.
I could feel her hold something in front of my face. It had an almost-familiar smell. She took it away and then I felt something poking at my pussy. She took her dildo out of her own pussy, let me smell it, and now she was putting it into mine! I had just finished doing things to her while she was naked, but somehow this seemed much more personal than anything I had done.
I might have made some resistance to the dildo, but I knew it was going in regardless of what I wanted or did. So I didn't tense, and I took the easy, painless path.
But then I felt her lubing my butt hole. If the dildo in my pussy came from her pussy, I did not want what I was sure was about to be inserted into my ass. But I was helpless and gagged. I had made sure she knew not to make any sounds except when I gave permission, and that any attempt would be punished by paddling. I was pretty sure she'd do the same thing now that she was in charge, so I couldn't even try to object. Maybe I shouldn't have shut her down quite so much.
While my butt was being invaded by something too warm to have come from her bag of toys, I also regretted not giving her a safeword and a safesound (for use when gagged). Because that meant I didn't have one, either. And that meant that I had no way of objecting to these two very personal "gifts".
She said, "Now that that's out of the way, I have to go to the bathroom. I'm sure you'll be fine here while I'm gone." Then she patted my ass as I heard her leave the room.
So there I was: naked, helpless, uncomfortable, and with my three orifices filled, two with things I'd rather not think about. And her comments made me all too sure I was correct about the identity of the third object.
A lot of my discomfort was based on the ick factor of where the butt plug came from. But some was just because I've got a plug in my butt. I had tried them, both standard and vibrating, and found no pleasure. To me they're just a pain in the ass.
I didn't try to get out, because I knew I couldn't. But I did move a bit to try to get more comfortable. "Try" was the operative term because nothing helped.
She wasn't gone too long, although it felt like days. When she came back, she lowered my hands most of the way. She gave me a minute to recover, which didn't actually help much, then told me to spread my knees as wide as I could. With only one foot of chain between my ankles, I couldn't spread my knees much. The only way to spread them farther would have been to squat, and that wasn't happening with my arms still attached to the ceiling or whatever. She put a rope around my waist. Then she pulled it between my legs, between my butt cheeks, and over itself in the back. Then she pulled on it, hard. It felt like it was trying to cut through my pussy. Then she fed it back through my legs and tied it to the waist loop in the front. Not that it matters, but I figured it was probably the same rope she used for her own crotch rope.
She said, "You called me Betty. My name is Elizabeth. What's my name?"
I won't try to imitate what I sounded like through the gag, but it was definitely four syllables.
"Very good. I'll try to help you remember."
She said "Elizabeth" as she stroked my bottom. Then she said "Betty" and spanked my bottom hard for each syllable. She repeated that a few more times. Then she asked me again what her name was. As I said "Elizabeth" as well as I could through the gag, she stroked my stinging butt.
She let my arms the rest of the way down. It was better, but my shoulders still hurt and I couldn't do anything about that while my hands were locked together.
She said, "I'm going to give you a choice." Her voice was strong and confident, hardly matching the weak, meek voice she used when she was bound. She unbuckled and removed my gag. I knew better than to say anything, though.
"Today I've been cycling through horny, horrified, and hurt. Currently, I'm mostly horny, but also peeved at what you did to me. So your choice is to eat me to a satisfactory orgasm, or I'll give you six with the paddle."
I never had any desire to give head to a woman, and I figured the paddling won't be much worse than the spanking. At least it wasn't too bad when I tried paddling myself. So I went with what I thought was the lesser evil and said, "I'll take the paddling."
She put the gag back in my mouth and buckled it tightly. Then she pulled my arms up, though not as high as before. I waited for the first stroke. And I waited. Then I felt stinging and pain on my right butt cheek, seemingly before I even heard the paddle hit. This was much more painful than the hand spanking, much worse than anything I ever did to myself. Did I hit her this hard with the brush? Oh God, there's five more, too. I definitely underestimated the exchange factor of only five hand spanks for one with the paddle.
As I had, she took her time between strokes. As she had, I screamed into the gag with each hit. After the last one, she left me there for a minute before lowering my arms. Then she removed my gag and said, "You have a choice. You can eat me to a satisfactory orgasm, or I'll give you six with the paddle."
Earlier I described her expression as "gobsmacked". That's how I felt, now. Even if I wanted another six strokes, which I absolutely did not, I knew that her arm would hold out longer than my butt could. I must have opened and closed my mouth a half dozen times before I said, "I'd like to eat you." My voice sounded weak to my own ears.
"Are you sure? Just a few minutes ago you said you'd rather be paddled than eat me. I don't want you to do anything you don't really want to do."
"Yes, I really want to. Uh, the uh paddling made me uh... receptive to the idea. I want to please you any way I can. So, now I really want to eat you. I want to give you an orgasm."
Here I was, practically begging for a chance to do something I absolutely didn't want to do. I was inventing lies to support that. How had that woman who was so weak an hour ago gotten such control over me? Not just physical control (which I gave her), but mental control.
She said, "Oh, that's so nice of you. Thank you. And I just know you'll do a good job of it.
"I'll just put your gag back in while I get things ready."
So, bound, blindfolded, and gagged, all I could do was stand there and listen while she did whatever she did.
Eventually, she unhooked me and steered me... somewhere. Then she helped me kneel. She was nice enough to arrange for a pillow under my knees. She removed my gag and offered me water, which was very welcome. Then she settled into something very close in front of me and said, "Okay, lean forward and get to work." I did.
I'm mostly straight. I've never wanted any lover who wasn't a man. But I do enjoy looking at and feeling up nekkid broads. If only I weren't blindfolded, I'd at least have the stimulation of seeing her pussy close up. Instead, all I had was humiliation and the feel and taste of something I didn't want.
But I knew from my experiences with (male) lovers how to get head and what did and didn't work for me, so I hoped I'd be able to give head well enough to avoid the implied punishment for failure, whatever it would be.
I had never before smelled a pussy this close up. Does mine smell that strong?
When I inserted my tongue into her - yuck, am I really doing this? - the flavor was much milder than the aroma. And when I reached as far in as I could go, I got a very pleasant taste of something sweet and tart. I wouldn't do this again just for that flavor, but I sure would go for candies like that.
When I wasn't sticking my tongue into her, I was licking her lips and clit, and sucking on her clit. Some men needed to be guided to mine, and had no idea how sensitive it was. At least I could get that right. And I was changing my speed to match what I felt and heard. I threw in a bit of nibbling, too.
My knees started to hurt, and my tongue was running out of endurance when I finally heard her breathing start into the almost-there rhythm. Was my technique bad, or was it just that I couldn't do a good, quick job while bound like I was? You know what? I don't care. I don't want to do this again, and if I give lousy head (to a woman), that's fine with me.
Finally she came. Her lips squeezed my tongue and her juices got all over my face. I really, really wanted to stop there, but she wanted a "satisfactory" climax. I figured I'd better keep going until she came again, came down, or my tongue gave out entirely.
That was probably a good choice because she climaxed again a few minutes later. Between my disgust and my tired-out tongue, I decided to stop there. I tried to pull my head out of her groin, but I didn't have enough balance to. So I just knelt there with my head in her lap (nice euphemism, no?) and my nose much too close to what I didn't want to smell.
I enjoy giving head to guys. I like the feel of a hard dick getting harder from my efforts. But not only don't I swallow, I don't let them come into my mouth. I don't want to taste or feel that sticky stuff. And now I had similar sticky stuff in my mouth and on a lot of my face.
I wonder if this experience will affect my appreciation of female pulchritude. Maybe I'll find out if I ever get this damned blindfold off.
After a bit she pushed my shoulder so I could kneel upright, and then she gagged me. And she must have pulled the gag's ball across her pussy because it tasted like that. I started wondering what I could eat or drink to get that taste out of my mouth. I began wondering what I could do to get that taste out of my mind.
"Thank you. I really needed that. We'll have to do this again, sometime."
She helped me to stand and guided me back to where she clipped the rope to my wrists. She pulled them up a bit. Not enough to actually hurt, but enough that I couldn't stand upright. Then she ran a finger along my pussy lips.
"It's a shame that didn't turn you on as much as it did me. Ah, well. You can wait here while I shower and dress. We'll be leaving shortly after that."
I didn't mind (too much) the wait while she showered, but that last sounded almost like a threat. I was naked, bound, and gagged, with pussy juice all over my face. She wasn't going to take me out of the house like this, was she? How big a mistake have I made?
Chapter 3: The Trip Back
When she came back, she let my arms down. She said, "If you promise to behave yourself, I'll unlock your wrists for a bit and let you work the kinks out of your shoulders." I nodded, and she did and I did.
I'm not sure why she asked for that promise. What was I going to do while naked, gagged, blindfolded, and with my feet bound by a one-foot chain? Anyway, she let me swing my arms and shrug my shoulders for a few minutes before locking my wrists again. Then she took off my blindfold.
She was dressed in a knee-length summer dress with nice-looking but practical walking shoes. I realized that this was the first time I saw her dressed. She's one of the lucky people who look equally good dressed and bare.
She looked me up and down as though deciding what to do to me next. I was suddenly shy. I hadn't minded being bare up to now, but being bare while she was fully dressed made me uncomfortable. I wanted to cover myself with my arms. While my body and hindbrain tried to do that impossibility, my forebrain flashed back to when she made those same futile attempts in the park. The small part of me that wasn't embarrassed or trying to cover up was hoping that she was enjoying the show as much as I had, then. Maybe she was enjoying it more, since I had bigger boobs to jiggle.
Before I managed to get myself under control, she smacked my ass hard with her hand. That got my attention.
She said, "If you'll stop shimmying, I'll cover you with that dress of mine. And I'll remove your gag and ankle cuffs for the walk outside. But I know you'll behave properly because I have the keys to not only your wrist cuffs, but also to your apartment."
She got the dress over my head and arms, and I felt a lot less uncomfortable. Then she removed my gag and gave me more water. I said, "I'd better pee before we go anywhere." So she removed the dress, again.
Like I had done for her, she removed the crotch rope, but left the toys inside. She took me to the bathroom and, like I had done to her, she stayed to watch. Boy, I wish I hadn't done that. It's really hard and embarrassing to pee while someone watches, well beyond that "she's dressed and I'm bare" feeling. And it takes more concentration that I thought to pee without dropping the dildo.
I had it both easier and harder than she did. I had the one-foot chain between my ankles, so my thighs weren't so tight together making it messy to pee. By the same token, I had to part my knees and show off my bare pussy to her.
But I did pee and she did wipe me and wash her hands. Then we went to her living room where she put the crotch rope and dress back on me and removed my ankle cuffs. I wasn't real happy when I saw that she put them in her tote bag rather than leaving them in the room.
The walk to her car was uneventful, and she strapped the seat belt tight around me as I had done to her. I tried to think what other things I did to her that she's likely to do to me. But I was flustered and not thinking too well. Payback is a bitch, and I was beginning to think she was one, too.
During the drive back towards the park, I sympathized with her discomfort when people could see into the car. The fact that I knew that there was nothing odd to see didn't keep me from flinching away from potential glances.
Also, every little bump (and there were plenty of big ones, too) pushed the butt plug harder into me. This was not sexy and not sensual. She had apparently driven this route, on purpose, while wearing this butt plug. I don't understand why anyone would do that. Then again, a lot of people don't understand why I would tie myself up.
When we got near the park, I expected her to ask me for directions to my apartment house. She didn't. Instead, she parked in the same lot she had before. I started getting nervous again. Before, it was predawn, darkish, and there was nobody else around. Now it was bright daylight and there were a dozen or so cars just in this one parking lot.
She said, "You interrupted me before I could go back for my bag. I hope it's still there. You had better hope it's still there. It's about a 45-minute walk from here. I'll help you get out of the car."
So there I was: barefoot, in the park, with nothing under the dress except the wrist cuffs and the lock holding them together behind my back. Oh, and the crotch rope holding things in me. I wanted to hide behind something, but there was no "behind" because the park extended in all directions.
She started off and said, "You can wait here, if you want. But do you really want someone else to find you in your... predicament?" I hurried to catch up to her.
Hurrying, though, made my boobs bounce, and I realized how much of a show I'm putting on for anyone who might watch.
She didn't talk much during the walk, and I didn't talk at all. I was afraid that anything said might attract attention, and I wanted everyone to be looking everywhere else but at me.
A 45-minute walk is a lot longer than it sounds when you want to curl up and hide with every step. It's also a long way to go barefoot when you're not used to it. I'm glad they were dirt trails, or the heat and sun would have fried my soles. Or, maybe if it were paved, she'd have let me wear my shoes?
After several eons we got to where she had locked her backpack. To get to it, you had to thread your way between close-set trees and bushes. I didn't try for fear of tearing the dress. My minor thought was that it was her dress and she'd punish me. My major thought was that it was all I had to wear.
She let me stay on the trail and, happily, came back with her backpack. I think she wanted to put the backpack on me, but couldn't figure out any way to do that, so she shouldered it, herself. The walk back to the car was longer because my feet hurt and I couldn't keep the same pace.
I was lucky in both directions. No one came near enough to notice anything odd about me.
Only after I was tightly seat-belted again did she ask how to get to my place. I had walked to the park, so it was a very short drive. But she parked a couple of hundred feet from the entrance. I didn't see anyone outside, but there were all of those windows. I imagined people at every one of them. I started to move closer to Bet-uh-Elizabeth, but she said, "Walk tall. There's nothing to see unless you show that you're embarrassed."
With my wrists so close, I had to walk tall, I couldn't slouch no matter how much I wanted. But she was right, and I did walk as normally as I could, but it didn't keep me from feeling like I wanted to get right up next to her for protection.
She let us into the building and told me to lead the way to my apartment. Being in front made me more nervous, but I led the way. She had to hit the elevator buttons.
When we got to my door, she lifted the back of the dress and pressed something into my hand. "That's your key ring with your door key pointed correctly. You'd better open it before someone comes along."
My eyes went wide as I looked around. There was nobody there, but all of the peepholes were staring at me. Bet-uh-Elizabeth had moved away a bit and was obviously not going to change her mind. I couldn't risk having to find my door key by feel, so I couldn't use that hand at all. Instead, I had to pull up the back of the dress with just the other. That was a slow, scary job. Then I had to back my bare ass up to the door and bend way over to get my hands high enough to put the key in the knob lock. I almost panicked when I couldn't figure out which way to turn it while I had my back to the door. But I managed to get it unlocked, and then had to awkwardly pull it open. No one came along while I did all of this, but my heart was still racing.
After we entered, she took the dress off of me and put the ankle cuffs and chain back on. At one point while she was doing that her head was just inches from my pussy, and I got nearly paralyzed with embarrassment again.
As I should have expected, her next command was, "Show me your toys." She learned entirely too quickly and well.
I reluctantly led her to my bedroom and nodded towards the dresser. "It's the box on the floor."
She brought it out and opened it on the bed. While I was embarrassed by the contents, I was proud of the fact that the fetters, ropes, and such were kept neatly, rather than the jumble in her bag of toys. She slowly looked through the gags, handcuffs, and everything else, while I stood there wishing I could sink into the floor. "I don't see any personal toys in here," she said while pointedly staring at my crotch.
I found there doesn't seem to be a limit to how embarrassed I can get. As I stood there, she reached into my box of goodies and pulled out a paddle. That got me going. I said, "They're in the nightstand – top drawer."
So she looked at my most intimate toys: my vibrators and dildos and no goddam butt plugs like the one I've had in me for way too long. She picked up a vibrator that included a clit stimulator and said, "Ooh, this looks nice. Let's see how well it fits."
She removed the crotch rope and then stuck her fingers between my pussy lips to pull out the dildo that was in there. She said, "Open your mouth." Then she put the dildo in there and said, "Hold this." So I had to close my mouth on the dildo that had been in my pussy and her pussy. Then she turned on my vibrator and inserted it into me, aligning its nub with my nub.
She pointed to the bed and said, "You can sit or lie down until you come. If it takes more than ten minutes, you'll be spanked. Oh, and give me back my dildo."
I was in trouble. It normally takes me more time than that with just a vibrator, and that's without an audience making me more nervous than horny. I tried lying on my stomach to increase the sensation. My ass isn't as bouncy as my boobs, but bouncier than hers. And I'm sure she watched it bounce like mad as I tried to get off. Bouncing did give me a bit more stimulation from the vibrator, but to do it I had to clench my butt muscles, which accentuated my feeling of its intruder.
After what I assume was ten minutes, she said, "You keep trying. I'll see if this helps." Then she started spanking me while I humped the bed. She didn't hit me anywhere near as hard as she might have, and she seemed to get into the same rhythm as my humps. It did help, though, and eventually I did have a pretty good orgasm, and collapsed. Yes, you can collapse even if you're already lying down. I didn't want to think about how red my butt was.
While I was recovering, she removed the chain between my ankle cuffs and cuffed them directly together. Then she helped me hop into the bathroom. She removed my wrist cuffs and said, "I think this is mine," as she removed the butt plug. Then she left the bathroom and I had an urgent need to poop. I guessed she had uncuffed me so she wouldn't have to wipe my ass.
When I was done and washed, I left the bathroom. She wasn't in my bedroom, so I hopped into the other rooms. She wasn't anywhere. I called for her and got no answer. Finally, I saw her note on the kitchen table.
It read, "Call me tomorrow, but not before 9. I think we should talk. If you haven't found the key by then, I'll tell you where it is, but it'll cost you." It was signed with her name and phone number.
Chapter 4: Alone In My Apartment
I was still up from the day before, and I'd had a lot of excitement. So I didn't even start looking for the key. Instead I hopped to bed to get some sleep. It was awkward getting my legs under the covers, but I managed.
When I woke up, I wondered why I couldn't get my leg out of the bed. Then I saw the leg cuffs and remembered everything. No such luck it was just a dream.
So I hopped to the toilet and peed. By holding my thighs apart with my hands I kept from making a mess. But even alone it was embarrassing. I'd better get looking for that key.
No. Coffee first. I'll never find it if I'm not fully awake.
Making the coffee was more of an adventure that I expected. Because I had to hop to get around, I couldn't fill anything fully or it would slosh out.
After drinking my coffee, I realized I was still nude. I was alone in my apartment, but I still wanted some clothes on. Pants (or even panties) were out of the question, so I found a blouse and skirt. I don't wear skirts often, so it was a lot fancier than I'd have chosen for around the house, but so were all of my other alternatives.
I figured I'd start with the places I knew she had been. So I started near the entry door.
Aha! Right away I found a shopping bag that I didn't put there. Shit! It's just the bag of my clothes I had taken off at her apartment. Well, I'm glad she remembered them. They also have all of the stuff in my pockets, including my phone.
MY PHONE! I took a dozen or so pictures of her nude and bound. I dug it out and was relieved to see that I had remembered to lock it. So I unlocked it now and looked through the pictures. That and my bondage got me hot enough that I thought, "Screw the key, for now." I hopped into the bedroom, powered up one of my vibrators, and had at least three orgasms over about 45 minutes while thinking about yesterday (well, technically today since it wasn't yet midnight).
But when I got up again, I knew I had to get serious about finding that key. Since I knew she had been in my bedroom, I decided to work from here rather than hopping to some other restart point.
I looked in the drawer where she rifled through my vibrators, but no luck. Bed? No. My box of bondage bits? That took a while to look through, especially as I had quite a number of my own padlock keys. But, no.
Okay, hallway. No luck. Back to the living room. That could take a while. There were so many places something as small as a key could be placed. It was so tedious, I often wanted to just give up. Then I'd have to hop to move and my resolve came back, but weaker each time. Finally, I declared my living room key-free, even though I was pretty sure there were places I hadn't looked.
On to the kitchen. As soon as I got back to the kitchen, hunger hit me, hard. I thought back, and it was more than 24 hours since I had anything other than water and coffee (and pussy). I made a meal of whatever was quick and didn't require me to hop around with something that could scald me.
After eating, I didn't get far in searching before I needed to take my postprandial visit to the bathroom. I was reminded yet again how annoying these damned ankle cuffs were. But again, because I was there, I searched the room, even though I don't think she came much past the doorway. No key.
After a few more hours I had searched my entire apartment, some places multiple times, and still hadn't found that key. I looked under furniture, which was damned difficult with my ankles locked together. I felt the tops of furniture and lintels, which is damned difficult when you're only five foot two. I looked through my fridge and freezer and nearly got frostbite. Where did she hide that damned key?
I needed to stretch my legs, and couldn't. I needed to shower, and couldn't. I wanted to scream, but didn't. And it still wasn't nine o'clock, so I couldn't even call and give up. For a while I just curled up and cried from the frustration.
Eventually, I stopped crying and started some introspection. I enjoyed bondage. One of the things I'd really wanted was to be bound and not be able to get out. And now that I had it, I not only wasn't enjoying it, I was hating it. Why?
Well, for one thing, it wasn't the kind of tight bondage I could fight against. It also wasn't especially sexy. And finally, I realized, this didn't fit my pattern. My sessions were always get horny, get bound, get hornier, try to come and fail, get freed, and masturbate until I could hardly move. I had already done that last step, so I wanted the other steps to be over, too. This wasn't sexual bondage anymore, it was just bondage. I considered another session with my vibrators, but I just wasn't turned on enough to make it fun.
I searched more on and off, not expecting to find the key. I got another nap. Then I called Elizabeth on the stroke of 9 o'clock. I knew the games would continue. She'd tell me what the location would cost me, maybe offering hints for lower costs.
When she picked up the phone, she said all too cheerily, "Hello. I hope you're feeling fine this morning."
I fully intended to play along; instead I went to pieces. "I can't find the key. I can't wear pants. I can't make food. I can't shower. I can't keep hopping around. I hurt, and I just want it to stop!" I dropped the phone and sat hugging my knees and crying. I think she said something, but I couldn't hear and I couldn't bring myself to care.
She must have hung up at some point because I heard my phone ring. I couldn't work up the energy to pick it up. Eventually, my tears stopped, but I still just sat and rocked. My phone rang a few more times and I let it. I knew it might be Elizabeth calling to tell me where the key was, but it didn't matter. It wasn't that I didn't want to get out, it was that I didn't want anything. I didn't want to move or to feel or to be. The only positive want I had was for it all to go away.
I was shocked out of my fugue state by sharp knocks on my door. Elizabeth said, "You've got to let me in because I left your key with you."
I half-crawled and half-swam to the door and turned the knob. As soon as she closed the door behind her, she sat down beside me and hugged me. I put my face on her shoulder and started crying again. I don't know what she said, but it was in a soothing tone as she hugged me and patted me and rocked me like a baby.
Eventually, I started to become a conscious being again, and I started mumbling apologies. She pulled my head back to her shoulder and said things like, "That's okay; it's not your fault," and "Don't worry," and "It's almost over."
When I stopped mumbling and crying she said again, "It's almost over. I brought the spare key and I'll have you free in just a few seconds."
I almost started crying as soon as she stopped hugging me, but she unlocked my ankles and came back and hugged me again before I started. She said, "I'm sorry. I didn't mean for this to happen. I never broke anybody before, but I'll put you all back together, good as new."