Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

A Farm Girl Punished 3

by S M Ackerman

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© Copyright 2010 - S M Ackerman - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbf; cuffs; rope; gag; outdoors; caught; M/f; punish; bdsm; cons/reluct; X

continued from part 2

Part 3

This is my weekend, my bondage weekend, my self-punishment weekend, and its only Sunday morning and early now, I still have all day Sunday remaining to suffer through before my self-imposed bondage punishments have to end.

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.


My last punishment has been extremely exciting, I have still got the vibe in my sex 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, it will beginning I decide, early tomorrow, on Sunday morning. But first I have some arrangements to put in place. This is going to be a lu-lu and quite risky too, but what is bondage and discipline without possible consequences.

In the old barn next to the milking shed is an old two wheeled trapping carriage, it looks light enough for me to pull it around and out, I intend to use it as a platform for my Sunday morning discipline and bondage. Now there is a decision to make, where do I put it, where will I spend my punishment?

I have already decided, but the thought of my decision and its possible consequences makes me think again. I decide that if I am to sentence myself then once I have, how can I argue with that!

I can’t, and I bloody well had better not, or my punishment will have to be even more horrendous if only because of me being such a wimp, if there is to be any justice for me. Now for the set up, but first I better remove the vibe because there is no chance that I can do what I must with it still filling me. An hour later and having rested and enjoyed the sun I set to.

I wheel the carriage around the farm house and place it centrally in the middle of mum’s lawn, with the open back facing towards the farmhouse. I am amazed at how clean and well maintained the carriage is, but think little of the fact, I am just grateful it moves easily and I don’t have to scrub it clean before I can use it.

If all goes to plan, old Frank will be driving the cattle up from the gate field around five am as usual, for milking. He will probably light his pipe and sit outside of the milking sheds, but that is on the far side of the farm house from where I will be bound and displayed.

Now as for my bondage, I won’t be allowing myself any real movement once I am secure. Nor will I be enjoying any penetration of any sort, in fact my legs will be stretched as wide as I can arrange for them to be, thus fully revealing my most intimate parts to anyone that cares to look, ie to anyone walking around the farm house, not that I can think of any reason for someone to do so, even old Frank.

For reasons (you need to understand) Old Frank has taken a bit of a dislike to me, and with that in mind the thought of him catching me bound, naked, fully revealed and very horny, secured bent over the back of a trap is not a good thought. Though it is very exciting and poses a serious risk to me, all of which I intend to be the situation when I start my Sunday morning suffering.

I don’t know how old Frank would react if he were to discover me, maybe he would ignore me totally seeing my predicament as none of his business, maybe he would see me as fair game! After all I am offering my body on a plate (naked and bound), ‘well on a pony-trap’, or maybe he would have a heart attack on the spot. This possibility is something I thought of yesterday whilst I was secured to the tractor, but he is not yet sixty so he is not that old. Besides he is very unlikely to discover me anyway, or so I believe, but even if he does, what is a bound bondage slut like me to do about it anyway, the only answer, it seems to me to be, is nothing at all.

Once I have positioned everything in preparation for my early Sunday morning start, I spend the day in eager anticipation of my next self- bondage punishment. I sit in mum’s garden behind the farm house, with my second long cool glass of lemonade, all filled up with ice and enjoying the bright, very hot mid afternoon sunshine, whilst looking at the carriage, and thinking.

There is a large bucket filled with water and one handcuff key on a string, freezing nicely in mum’s deep freezer. It should take a few hours to melt before setting me free, by then the cows will have been milked and old Frank will have left, and the risk of my discovery will have been reduced.

If you have read about my previous self-bondage punishments, you will notice that this one is a lot less active. In other words I am secured tightly, not crawling to my freedom! This is because I am covered in bruises, my hips are black and blue, and my skin is well burnt by friction. The thought of crawling anywhere is one I have had to discard, so hence the carriage and the increased risk in this, my self-discipline.

I discovered yesterday that being naked in the great outdoors, even when you hope that there is ‘no one to see you’ is quite a challenge, and also very exciting in its own way. Knowing as I do, that I will be bound and gagged, presented naked, and for hours, is going to be very, very challenging.

My punishment will start early tomorrow morning, it will be a bit cold on the old body at first, but I will soon warm up as the sun gains height and strength. By midday the temperature can fry eggs on the path so I better remember to coat my back, bottom and thighs, with a high factor sun-block or I will burn badly. Luckily I have a spray bottle of sun-block, so that I can cover those hard to reach places), which will be on display. Much easier than trying to contort enough to apply the block by hand!

The rest of the day passes in a highly frustrating way, my sex just will not dry up, and keeping my fingers out of it takes real willpower, but I succeed. It is whilst sitting thinking that a memory pops into my head, from when I had first been looking at the carriage.

I had sort of noticed a half hoop of metal, I didn’t take much notice of it at the time, being more concerned with the carriage itself and what I could do with it. Now I went back to the barn, and there, exactly where I had seen it was the half metal hoop. I picked it up turning it over in my hands, noticing the flattened and flared out ends, each with a slot cut into it.

I took the hoop back to the garden and looked at the back end of the carriage. Twin loops of metal had been welded at either side of the carriage they corresponded with the slots in the metal, and when I put them together they formed a round half loop on the back-board. Fit a padlock through the protruding part of the rings and the hoop would be fixed and unmoving vertically. I look at the shape it creates and realise that if I was bent over the back the back-board and then fitted the hoop, and locked it in place, I would have a metal belt holding me rigidly to the wood floor of the carriage, perfect I decide, just absolutely perfect.

The only remaining question is will the hoop fit around my waist, I try it there and then, and though it is a very tight fit it will work. I leave the hoop in place standing proud and sit down again. It is a bit of a puzzle to me, why has someone made this simple device, it seems to be perfect for securing me, but what had it been for originally? The only thing I can think of is to fix a barrel of some sort in place, but even that idea doesn’t seem to make much sense! Finally I returned my attention to my upcoming bondage discipline and day dreamed about it.

I send myself to bed early as it had been an early start this morning and would be again tomorrow!

Four am is an inhospitable time of the day, it is cold, even in summer, and the dew is still covering everything, but I get up. I do not dress; I will have no need for clothes this morning. I go to the bathroom, take a shower, dry myself fully, and then reaching around I spray sun-block all over my back bottom and thighs, even rubbing it down my calves. Now prepared, I wash my hands and go downstairs. I eat a cereal breakfast and drink a hot mug of coffee, the only things I will be allowed from now on. Then taking a last reassuring deep breath I pick up my bag of tricks, collect the large ice-lock, and head out the back on to the lawn, and to the waiting carriage.

I check that the wheels brakes are firmly applied, as I don’t want the carriage moving on it own if I struggle. They are. Next I pass a long length of rope through both wooden wheels and back out, one end has a slipknot and loop for my ankle, the other end will be used to pull my legs apart and then secured with knots, but that is for a little later.

I tie my ice block onto the bench seat used by the driver. It will slowly melt in the sun and drop my handcuff and padlock keys into my palm, then I can free myself, but that will not be for a few hours yet. Now I sit on the grass and secure my ankles, the loop goes around my left ankle and I pull on the rope, stretching my ankle and parting my legs towards the wheel. Next I stretch my right ankle over towards the other wheel and at the same time I pull the rope tight and wrap and knot the rope around my ankle, using a half hitch to tighten even further and a final knot to secure my legs open. In fact my legs now feel as though I am doing the splits, my ankles are almost pulled out far enough to touching each of the wheels, now all I have to do is actually get up.

Using the carriage back as a leaver I struggle up from the grass, the rope tightens even more leaving me with my legs stretched apart and tightly secured and my sex fully displayed and vulnerable as I have my legs spread wider than I can ever remember them being. Next I bend forward onto the carriage and fit the metal hoop across my back, locking one side first, then with some effort and a lot of heavy breathing in, and struggling I manage to secure the other, and thus myself. I am now bent right forward, so I reach out to my side for my handcuffs.

Shit, I nearly forgot! I pull up my ball gag and pop it into my mouth and buckle it up tightly behind my head. Next I pull a blindfold over my eyes, then I using touch only from here on, I reach out for the handcuffs. These I lock around each wrist and then I stretch forward, my arms going under the carriage seat as I stretch for a length of rope with a metal clip on it which I had fastened in place for just this purpose yesterday.

Once this last clip is locked to my handcuffs chain I will be stuck! This is that moment, the one where every lone bondage participant feels the fright. One last click and eternity awaits! Click it is done, I am presented, naked, stretched wide open revealing my all for anyone to see. I am helpless and blindfolded, humbled and enduring my self-imposed bondage discipline, and so far I feel wonderful!

‘Guess who won’t be touching her pussy now’ I say to myself in delight, trying to sound strict and insistent, trying to convince myself that this situation is not one I have placed myself in voluntarily, but that it is a real strict punishment, that my master has set for me, one through which I must now endure. It is of course all pure fantasy; I have no master or even mistress, unfortunately! I am a lone, over sexed, highly frustrated bondage slut and I am doing this to myself, but what the hell if I lie to myself a little, it helps to make the time pass quicker, and the situation feel more real.

Our cows make a very distinctive sound as their hooves clip-clop on the stone of the front yard, and I can hear it now quite clearly. Fear explodes, adrenaline surges throughout my body, excitement expands, I struggle to get free, to escape. Fight or flight, a bondage freak like me’s best friend. I struggle some more, but then I remember that old Frank is just the other side of the farm house, and if I inadvertently make any noise he might come around the farm house to investigate, I fall still, mouse silent, and pray he does not decide to.

I can just hear the milking machine as it starts up, and I know that the cows are now all in their stalls, Old Frank will be leaning against the shed wall lighting his pipe, waiting for the return trip once milking is complete. I strain against my bonds, waving my palms from side to side, desperately hoping to feel the touch of string or key. It is pointless, the ice will not have really started to melt yet, and so any possible escape from this my self-inflicted torment is still a long way off.

“Well what do we have here?”

I froze once more at the words I hear.

“Just like your mother I see!”

My mother, just like my mother! What the hell is happening?

“Many is the time I have watched as she is driven pulling that very cart, all bound up in her leathers and by your father. He sits on that bench with his long whip cracking as she pulls for all she is worth. They both seem to me to be having a fine time of it.”

Mum pulls this cart! He’s lying she can’t, not mum, not my mum!

I feel a hand, a rough calloused farmers hand, lightly trail across my butt then give it a squeeze.

“A bit firmer than your mothers I would say, not so much fat coating yours, but still nice and ripe, and demanding I think.”

I heard a sound, a sort of dragging sound, like leather, like a belt, a thick two inch wide leather belt that old Frank always wears.

“I think I know exactly what this butt needs and is going to get anyway!”

Fire rages across my bottom, leather bites into my perfectly presented very vulnerable flesh, old Frank is thrashing me! Six harsh strokes lash my bottom before he stops.

“I always wanted to do that to you, did you know and especially since you returned for the first time from that university, all filled up with your hoity-toity ideas. I always hoped that I might witness your downfall, but now here it is, an its me giving you the lessons you deserve, now there is justice for you.”

I could feel his finger tips tracing a pattern on my back, what I could not tell!

“Now then, there is the little matter of what I am going to do with you? I always fancied being the one driving your mother, now I guess I will have to be content with driving her daughter. Anyway I am going to leave you to decide exactly what you want, I will take this after all I don’t want you getting free. This evening I will return and we will see if you want to play at being my pony and take what is due to you from me or if you prefer to remain in this position overnight? I think your parents are returning about lunch time tomorrow. I think you will prefer to be compliant than to remain here for them to find, but that is up to you girl, you think about it and decided.”

Old Frank walked away from me then, leaving me in my no longer self-inflicted bondage, and with a choice to make! My initial reaction is ‘damn the man’ but then I realise that all he has to do to make my life hell is leave me alone.

I picture myself naked and shackled between the stays of this my mother’s carriage, with him holding the whip over me, driving me around the farm.

My excitement betrays my thoughts, I hope he returns soon.



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