© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission
Storycodes: Sbf; cuffs; rope; gag; outdoors; nettles; punish; toys; cons; X
This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self punishment weekend, and its only Saturday morning now, I still have all day Saturday and Sunday remaining to suffer through before my self imposed bondage punishments have to end. There is a lot I can and will inflict on myself between now and then…
I grew up on a farm with a slightly shabby looking farmhouse in which I and my parents live. I am an only child and somewhat of a loner, mostly I suppose because there is no one around to be mixing with, well not that I know, and I think I know everyone for miles. Mostly they are old boring adults, with busy normal lives, and no understanding of a (now) nineteen year old girls needs or interests, not that I would tell any of them of my interests, that would be just to embarrassing for words.
I have always been one of those that preferred to grab a packed lunch and vanish, mostly I think, because if I don’t disappear from sight, then someone, most likely my father will find me something ‘useful’ to be doing.
At eighteen (and still a virgin) I went off to university, having had a slight taste of the things I will become very interested in, like self bondage, discipline and punishment, as well as some risk taking. Now at nineteen I am home for a few weeks and this weekend my parents have left me in charge of the farm, as they have taken some of dad’s prized Hereford cattle off to a major farming show. All I have to do is feed mom’s chickens, and the pigs, and old Frank will see to the cows twice a day as he always does.
I am currently bound to a tractor in our barn, next to the milking shed, listening to old Frank preparing for the early morning milking.
For more detail than this read part one.
If all goes to plan, shortly old Frank will be driving the cattle back to the gate field, and then when my ice lock has fully melted I will be free of my self inflicted impalement and bondage. For now all I can do is rock my hips and enjoy the thrusting of the broom handle that is firmly fixed into my sex, and after the two long hours or so that it has been in me, it is now well covered in my slime, and I am getting very sore, and very desperate.
I don’t have much movement, as this is intended to be a punishment, I don’t deserve the pleasure of an orgasm, but that does not stop me trying to get one. For the last two hours as the sun rose I have been trying my very best to get off, and failing.
The barn door creaks, as weight is pushed against the side wall, I hear the cows ambling past with the odd word of encouragement from old Frank. I hear a match flair and a sucking sound as Frank lights his pipe, not now I think, holding my breath, not here I add, really scared that he will hear or somehow sense my presence.
For reasons that I do not understand, Old Frank has taken a bit of a dislike to me, and with that in mind the thought of him catching me bound, horny, sitting secured astride a rusting tractor is not a good thought, but it is also very exciting and poses a serious risk to me, all of which I intended to be the case when I started my weekend of suffering.
The door moves slightly again, but remains closed thank god. It is not locked as such, only fastened by its lift up bar, so he can, if he decides to, just lift the bar and walk in and find me. I don’t know what he would do if he did discover me, maybe nothing, maybe everything, or maybe he would have a heart attack on the spot. I hadn’t thought of that possibility when I started this, I hope he just walks the cattle down to the field and leaves.
I call him old Frank, but he’s not yet sixty, so not in reality that old, he wouldn’t have a heart attack I convince myself. Though whether he can still get it up is another matter, only discovery would tell, and as the door creaks and I hear Frank moving away I will not find out this morning.
An hour later the ice has melted and I am free and very horny, and like most horny girls I know exactly how to deal with it, but unlike most horny girls I have set myself a series of self punishment bondage sets, and wanking off is a ‘no no’ for me, until I have completed each and everyone.
I spent the day in eager anticipation of my next self bondage punishment. I sit in mum’s garden behind the farm house, with a long cool glass of lemonade, filled up with ice and enjoying the bright hot sunshine, whilst thinking.
It has to be hard, it has to be challenging and it has to be punishing in someway, and it has to spark my excitement. How I kept my fingers out of my knickers I don’t know, but I did!
At the bottom of the garden is a wild area, mum loves the wild plants and nature gone mad look, though she keeps a nice lawn with flowerbeds between it and the house. It is in that wild bit, that out of control mini woodland that my next punishment shall take place in I decided.
My afternoon is spent working out the details and challenges. There is a low wire fence (not in good repair) there is a gate that swings both ways separating the wood from the garden, but beyond that and for nearly an acre there is nothing but assorted trees, bramble and of course tall stinging nettles. Perfect I decide as I wander the woodland, start here, go there, negotiate that and then through the fence and find my keys and freedom.
I wonder what condition my body is going to be in after all of the crawling I intend to put it through again. I remember yesterday evening and I still have the scrapes to prove how hard that was. This punishment is, has to be, more strict and much harder, if that is possible. I Factor in old Frank into my idea and now it is perfect. My early evening Saturday punishment is decided upon, sentence has been passed, no leniency is allowed, and I am the victim, what could be a better way to spend an early Saturday summer evening for a horny bondage slut like me.
My experience starts perfectly but doesn’t it always. Those of you that like me play these type of games, must also realise that there is potential for it to all go wrong, and possibly fatally, so safety first as much as possible please.
I, because of the distance and obstacles have decided to have back up release methods, these consist of four knives placed along the route just in case I need to get out of my bondage, so that is my safety taken care of. In theory I will never be more than a couple of hundred yards from one of these escape knives and though it might be difficult, I am confident I can cut myself free if I have to.
Next is placing the handcuff key and padlock keys out of sight but by the back step of the farm house, thus to get them I will also have to crawl all the way across mum’s lawn as well. Now at three pm on the dot it begins, starting with a trek through the woods, stark naked, to the start point of my escapade, carrying my bag filled with ropes, straps and one huge dildo, and of course my ball gag and padlocks and a cow bell, this I will explain later.
Being naked in the great outdoors, even when you know that there is no one to see you is quite a challenge, and very exciting in its own way. Knowing that soon you will also be bound, plugged and gagged, with a challenge to complete is just the cherry on the top of the iced cake, and of course at four pm old Frank will be driving the cattle towards the farmhouse!
The only thing else you need to know for now is a bit about old Frank. He is ancient, slightly bow legged and slow moving most of the time. His skin is the colour of mahogany, due I think to him having spent most of his life outdoors working around farms. I have known him most of my life, but in reality I have never got to know him, he is one of those people that arrives, does whatever he has to do, and then vanishes again. I get the feeling that he doesn’t like people much and me in particular these days, though why? I haven’t got a clue.
Once I arrive at the little dell on the very far side of the wild land, I place my bag on the floor and pull out the contents, laying them out in the order I will want them, starting with the huge four inch round, eight inch long, random programmed vibe ( which I forget to turn on).
My naked stroll has had quite an effect on my sex, I am already aroused beyond belief and desperate to come, but that is not for me, not today, not yet. I suck the huge tip of the implement just to be certain that it will slip in as quickly and smoothly as possible, because I sincerely believe that if I have to struggle to get it up me, I might just get that orgasm without intending to. That’s how hot my slit feels already.
One gentle tease between my outer sex lips, my knees opened and wide apart and up it goes. ‘Wow!’ Its splitting me apart, ripping it’s way into my sex, slamming against my vulva, ‘Shit,’ ‘shit,’ ‘O shit,’ I cry as it stops.
A wide leather belt with rope already in place swings around my hips and I gather both ends together buckling them tight, pulling my stomach in so the belt can’t move. The dangling ropes I pull between my legs, slip beneath the belt at the front and then back and fourth until my pussy is covered, and the vibe is secured tightly by a mass of coarse rope, which I then lock at the back just above my butt using the loops fitted to the rope and belt previously.
‘Guess who won’t be touching her pussy now’ I say to myself in delight, trying to sound strict and insistent. Metal ankle cuffs lock in place, the same ones I used on Friday night, but I have added a slight twist to them, they now have a separate length of chain locked in the middle of the restraint chain between my ankles, and attached to the end of the new length of trailing chain is an old cow bell I found in the barn. So now as I crawl the bell will ring, drawing anyone in hearing range to me!
A leather belt straps around my thighs, it has a length of rope which I have in the past carefully measured to reach the D ring at the back of my ball gag strap. Next I place the ball gag neatly into my mouth and make sure it is wedged securely behind my teeth, before I tighten up the strap and affix with a padlock the length of rope. Now if I straighten my legs out, say to push forward, the ball gag is pulled harshly into my mouth and the straps into my cheeks, adding to my dilemma at moving, which I have to do if I want to get free and end this self punishment.
Until now everything can be reversed, I could if I decided bottle out and remove my restraints, not that I will, that would never do, I have sentenced myself to this well deserved torment, and I am bloody well going to get it, every agony inducing meter of it.
Now comes the moment, the moment when freedom is still possible but once I click the ratchet of the cuffs around my wrists, my freedom is taken away, only to be available to me by suffering through every agonising second of my chastisement.
Without hesitating I click the cuffs in place behind my back. Now I have no choice left but to squirm and worm my way through this rough landscape, and across the neat lawn beyond, and all before old Frank arrives and discovers me. I have perhaps an hour and a half, not long, but I calculated that I could do it just and without being discovered. At worst if I hear him I can always wait, remaining still, hidden at the fence until he is gone and then get free later, a long time later.
It all sounds so simple, wriggle through the woods dragging the bell, then across the lawn, get the key, and get free, all before old Frank arrives! Life I am learning this weekend is never as simple as it seems, and especially if like me you are bound and gagged for the challenge.
My first problem becomes self evident immediately the last ratchet closes around my wrist. I am kneeling up, not lying on the ground! In this position I can not move at all, so first I have to get down flat, and the only way open to me to do that, is to tumble. I decide to fall on my side figuring it will hurt less. What a bloody start, I can’t help but wonder what other mistakes I might have made, and will have to face?
There is only one pathway out of this dell I am in, so I twist my body around and laying on my side, I bring my knees up and then after getting suitable purchase I straighten my legs and slide slowly forward. My gag pulls tight tipping my head back telling me I have used up all of my available slack.
My knees draw again and repeat, not once but time after time, slowly I leave the dell and eventually arrive at the pathway, which runs through the woods towards our farmhouse, and my freedom.
This is the easy bit done because from here the track meanders a lot, so for my purposes I have to decide, do I follow the track or do I try as much as possible to move in a straight line. There is quite a difference in distance between the two. I elect for the straight line.
The bunny trail helps me to move forward, it is narrow, yet it is so well used that I can follow it with little difficulty, but considerable discomfort. My legs are already getting tired, my arm is being scraped raw and so is my hip and thigh. I think about turning over, but as I have a long way still to go perhaps I decide, I should save the relief of being on my other side for later, when I am sure I will appreciate it more.
Obstacle one is not nice, and will have quite an effect on the rest of my trip. The bunnies that use this track are quite small and they have forged a route through the weeds. I on the other hand I am a lot larger than they are, and I also have to forge a route through the undergrowth, and in this case the undergrowth or weeds that block my path carry quite a punch.
Stinging nettles and a large swathe of them! Ten meters wide and four meters deep, and only a narrow channel drilled through them by the bunnies, down which I can’t fit. I am going to get stung!
Taking a deep breath with a ball gag filling your mouth is bloody hard but somehow I do it. My nose is now just inches away from the patch and my penance. One push with my feet and my face will enter. I will need a lot of pushes to pass through this torture. One, Two, Threeee. I push on two and get stung for the first of many times on three. I have had stings from nettles before, but never like this!
Each shove of my legs drives my body deeper in and the nettles seem to be delighting in stinging at every part of my nakedness. Soon I am half way in and my breasts are covered in painful red patches. My belly feels like someone is sticking metal sowing pins into it, and I still have a long way to go. Nettles are pushed flat by my head and then I drag my body over them, adding to the pain in my face, hip, thighs etc. My ass protrudes out before every push forward and the nettles caress it. I am glad I took an antihistamine tablet (to avoid reactions) before I set out this afternoon, but that does nothing to reduce the pain the nettles are causing to me.
The last meter of my craw through natures stinging tormenters is the hardest. My whole body already feels as though it has been beaten with a bramble stick, one still with all its thorns intact. Such is the effect of the multiple stings to my body, but my hip is suffering the most, what with the friction and the stings, so as I push through I decide to turn over, so that my other hip and side can bare the brunt of the remaining crawl to my freedom.
I finally escape the evil stingers and turn over. My eyes pop out of my sockets in fear (well almost) as I find myself facing the open mouthed fangs of a coiled back Adder. The Adder is the only venomous snake in England, it has a beautiful diamond pattern, and though death by Adder bite is very rare, the hematoxic poison is not pleasant to experience.
Like most country people I am very familiar with this creature, so there is no mistake in identification. His tongue flicks out scenting the air, trying to decide I think, if I am a serious threat. The meter or so separating us in not quite in his ideal strike range, thankfully! I say his, because he is very large and therefore most likely to be a bull male.
We stare at each other for what seems to me to be forever, I dare not move less I encourage a strike, but equally the snake does not seem to be inclined to move out of his nice shaded hiding place, at the base of a tree, so it is a stalemate.
Then faster than I can believe the snake strikes, its head shoots not forward at me, but to its right, a little in front of my nose, the mouse it strikes at didn’t have a chance! The snake rears back allowing the mouse to lurch away before it follows. The mouse runs past me, (it’s movements already made spastic by the poisons toxins) along the little available bit of the rabbit run available to it, and away. The Adder follows it shortly, now totally ignoring me. It even slithers over my bound ankles and then it is gone.
For the first time since the encounter began I breath normally, and thank my lucky stars that the mouse, not I, was bitten. I stay motionless for a short time, just to make sure that the snake is gone and that my feet won’t hit it, as I move forward. Eventually I feel more settled and confident and restart my trial.
Bend pull up, dig my toes in and push my body forward by straightening my legs again, the bell begins to ring again. Bit by bit I leave behind the nettles and travel through mum’s natural woodland. My encounter with the snake will be hard to forget, but equally, so will my self imposed punishment bondage trip.
The remaining hundred meters to the fence pass in a long drawn out series of push and tinkle moving actions, my other hip soon feels like the first and by the time I arrive at the fence I am nearly exhausted. I wriggle through a broken patch of wire out onto the lawn, then slowly I make my way towards the back step and my freedom.
I am half way there when I hear the distinctive sound of the cows walking up the drive to the milking shed, just on the other side of the farmhouse. I know that old Frank will be ambling along behind them. I push harder and faster desperate to obtain my keys and escape, the bell rings faster and louder, I am desperate to get free and vanish from his potential sight, if for some unlikely reason he should both hear and decide to walk around the farmhouse to investigate the ringing sound.
My fingers fumble with the key but eventually I get it into the left handcuffs lock and turn it, the ratchet opens and I am free. A quick reach down to free my legs, and then to my feet and I run naked and still gagged and plugged towards the woodland again, carrying my removed bonds and with my fingers shoved inside of the bell to silence it.
Once out of sight I sit down, now hidden from sight by some dense bushes and I try to regain some composure. Then I walk through the woods to collect my bag and remove my clothes from within it, well a skirt and blouse anyway. Once they are on I feel safe again.
This punishment has been extremely exciting, I have still got the vibe in my slot and the rope holding it in place, but so long as my skirt does not blow up I am covered up. I walk back slowly, this time following the main path and looking forward to both a cold drink, and my next punishment, beginning I decide, early tomorrow on Sunday morning.