The Long Walk

The Background

At the time of this adventure I was living by myself in an apartment in the Southern suburbs of the city.   I’d got quite good at self-bondage and always took great care to ensure that there was at least one means of escape, preferably two, should I get into trouble.  However, as the following episode shows, it is easy to overlook one simple thing that can cause a real problem.

All Set For A Relaxing Evening

I got home from work a bit later than usual.  I had stayed behind to finish off a couple of reports and then the traffic was moving real slow all the way home.  The apartment was dark and empty when I got in.  I kicked off my shoes, got myself a glass of wine and switched on the TV.  I flicked through the channels but there was nothing on that interested me.  Then I thought spending the evening in my female clothes watching some of my collection of bondage videos would be a far better idea. Earlier that week a couple of things that I’d mail-ordered had arrived in the post - a padded body shaper from Classic Curves and a vintage 1960’s style open-bottom all-in-one with steel boning at the front and back from Girdlebound.  I went into the bedroom and got both of them out of the drawer – but first a shower and shave off any stubble that had sprouted during the day.  Then I wriggled into the padded pants and smoothed the waistband. 

Now for the corselet – I had to really hold my stomach in just to do up the hooks and eyes down the side.  The silicone-filled boobs that I’d also purchased recently were a great improvement on the foam plastic ones I used before as they bounced realistically as I walked.  I smoothed a pair of dark tan stockings over my legs and attached them to the suspenders.  Before I went any further I went back into the bathroom and made up my face.  I was getting quite good at this and no longer ended up making myself look like something out of an old Dracula movie.  “Now what should I wear on top?”  In the end I settled on a chocolate brown roll neck sweater and a grey two-piece suit with a tailored fitted jacket and straight skirt that came to just above my knees.  I finished off the outfit by slipping my feet into a pair of chocolate brown knee-high boots with 4-inch heels.  I checked myself out in the mirror.  “Terrific,” I thought.  “Now for the wig.”  I’d got a couple of wigs, but one was beginning to look a bit daggy.  The other was older but far easier to keep looking good.  It was dark brown with a boobed cut with a fringe and sides that fell to the bottom of my neck.  I thought that I looked terrific – I certainly felt terrific.   I sat on the edge of the bed and painted my nails.  Now I was ready to watch a few videos.

The Trip Out – A Headland, Passing Ships And Some Self-Bondage

I watched a couple of videos – I had seen both many times before, so I could not get myself really interested in them.  It was then that I decided that I would take a trip out to the small nature reserve at the end of the peninsula and get a breath of fresh air and some added excitement.  I got my wallet and keys out of my trousers and put them in my handbag.   I also took a cloth bag containing some lengths of rope, a pair of handcuffs and a gag – some outdoor bondage would add a little excitement.  I backed the car out of the garage, checking that I had got the apartment keys before I pressed the remote to close the doors.  It was a clear, moonlit night as I drove the 10 miles to reserve.   The gates were closed at 7.30 each evening so I parked the car at the end of a short lane that ran down to the bay.  I got out, picked up the two bags, locked the car and then set off for a stroll along the path that followed the line of the shore. 

It was low tide so there were no fishermen on the beach and, being a weeknight, the whole place seemed deserted.   I reached the end of the headland and sat on a bench at the top of the cliff to take in the sweeping view of the ocean.  An oil tanker was slowly making its way along the horizon; another smaller cargo ship was heading into the bay. I must have sat there for 20 minutes before I decided to try some self-bondage.  First I bound and clinched my ankles, them my legs just above my knees.  I passed the end of the third piece of rope through the link in the centre of the cuffs and tied it off.  Then I looped the rope around my waist and tied it in front of me, leaving the handcuffs dangling down behind me.  The wide leather strap of the ball gag felt cold and damp against my checks as I buckled it tight behind my head.  I folded up the cotton bag and put it in my handbag: then, sitting on the bench, I slipped the cuffs on to my wrists and clicked them shut. 

The Lost Keys – Passing Strangers, Getting Back To The Car

I sat there for another half hour or so before reckoning that it was time that I made my way back to the car.  With my hands cuffed behind me I groped for the handbag, but only managed to knock it on to the ground.  I got myself down off the bench and worked my way round to where I saw the bag lying.  I got the bag open and felt inside it, but there was no sign of the keys for the cuffs.  Perhaps they were in the bottom of the handbag.  There was the wallet, the car keys, a lipstick and a few other odds and ends – but no keys for the cuffs.  I felt round inside the cotton bag once more and double-checked in the handbag – again with no luck.  I was sure the keys were with the cuffs when I picked them up at home.  Maybe they had fallen out as I opened the bag.  I turned round (not easy with your legs tightly bound and your hands cuffed close behind you) and searched through the grass.  Still no sign of the keys. 

By now the moon had set sunk below the horizon and it was quite dark; the only light that there was came from the faint glow of the distant lights of the city.  I heard voices and footsteps approaching along the path.  They got closer.  I could now see two men deep in conversation heading my way.   I lay quite still, hoping that they would not see me.  Luckily the bench was about 25 yards from the path so I had a good chance.  I breathed a great sigh of relief when they walked past still deep in conversation.  My heart was pounding; I was now desperate to find the keys.  I searched the bag again and in the grass around the bench, still with the same result. 

There was no other alternative; I had to try to get myself free some other way.  I rolled over on my side and, bringing my ankles up as much as I could, I reached for the knots.  I could feel them with my fingertips but at first I couldn’t get them undone. I wish I hadn’t tied myself up so well.  After a struggle I finally managed to loosen one of the knots.  Another 5 minutes of struggle and I had got the rope off my ankles.  With my hands grasping the edge of the bench I levered myself up on to the seat.  I sat there for a few moments wondering how I was going to undo the rope round my knees.  There was no way that I could reach this one with my hands.  I tried standing up and walking with my knees bound but this was slow, painful progress – and I still had about half a mile to go to get back to the car.  The ropes were tight and would not easily be manoeuvred over my knees – but I would give it a try. 

I stood up and hooked the bonds under the corner of the seat.  I tried straightening my body to push them down but with no success.  Then I saw a piece of wood lying on the grass nearby.  I hopped over and picked it up.  It had a fork on one end that I hooked over the ropes and, holding the other end of the stick as firmly as I could behind my back, I gradually managed to work the ropes down over one knee.  The rest was fairly easy and soon the rope was lying still knotted on the ground at my feet.  I had another rest during which time my mind was working overtime trying to work out how to get me hands free.  No matter how hard I tried this task proved impossible.   I had to get back to the car and see if there was something I could use there.  My jaw ached but there was also no way that I could get the gag off without first releasing my hands.  I picked up my bits and pieces that were now scattered on the ground near me, stuffed them into the handbag and set off towards the car.  All the way back I kept a watchful eye out in case those two men returned.

The Long Walk To Freedom

Getting back to the car didn’t help much either.  There was no sign of the cuff keys in the car and there was nothing else there that I could use to get me free.  There was no way that I was going to drive with my hands cuffed behind me. I could always walk home; I had the front door key, but that was 10 miles away and the last 6 miles of the trip was through a heavily built up area.  Then I had a bright idea; the warehouse where I worked was only about 5 miles away and, being on the edge of town, didn’t involve going down too many well-lit streets.  As I had my office keys on my key ring I could let myself in and cut myself free using the tools in the workshop.   I picked up my bag, checked that the key ring and the office keys were inside, locked the car and set off on my long walk.

Four-inch heels were not designed for long, late night walks on a rough country road with no footpath.  My balance wasn’t helped either by having my hands cuffed behind me.  There were still a few lights on in the small cluster of houses near the reserve but nobody seemed to be about at this time of night.  I was relieved when I cleared the houses.  For the next 3 miles the road had a mangrove swamp on one side and sand hills on the other.  I kept to the mangrove swamp side as I thought that this offered me better cover should a car appear.  In fact, three or four cars did pass and each time I was able to duck into the bushes at the edge of the swamp and hide from view.   I took me over an hour to reach the edge of the built up area.  I was tired.  So at this point I sat on the Armco railing beside the road and had a rest before the dash through the lighted streets lined with houses and small factories.

For the next part of the trip I kept off the main road.  However, I hadn’t gone far down the first side street when ahead I saw some people talking beside a car.  They had obviously been visiting and were having a last minute chat with their hosts before leaving.  Unfortunately for me this chat went on for about 20 minutes more.  I hid in the bushes in someone’s front garden until I saw the car pull away – all the time hoping like hell nobody would come out of the house to put the cat out.  The next alarm came when I approached a cluster of small factories.  Two security men were doing their rounds.  This meant another 10-minute delay.  But I was soon to face an even bigger problem – the ready-mix concrete plant on the next corner was ablaze with lights and filled with men and trucks.  I had to backtrack some way and reach the highway further down.  Although it was wide, crossing the highway didn’t present too much of a problem – but on the other side there were only some playing fields and I felt very exposed.  The warehouse was at the end of a cul-de-sac at the southern end of the playing fields. 

Again I got delayed by more security men who had just finished checking the warehouse and the factory next door and were sitting in their car having a break.  At last I got to the warehouse.  I hadn’t remembered that the lock on the side door was about 4 feet off the ground.  This was far higher than I could reach with my manacled hands.  Luckily I found a milk crate that I could stand on, but even so, undoing the lock wasn’t easy.  At last I was in.  It would be at least a couple of hours before the security men did their next rounds.  I found some scissors in my desk drawer and used them to cut through the rope round my waist.  With a lot of effort and a great deal of grunting I managed to get my wrists down past my backside.  Now I had to get my legs through so that the cuffs were in front of me.  So far so good; now to get them off.   After being unsuccessful with my first three attempts I decided to try using some bolt cutters.  I was not going to get enough leverage to cut through the link simply by holding them in my hands.  So I put them in the jaws of the vice, positioned the link of the cuffs between the cutters and, using my knee, slowly turned the handle of the vice.  The first couple of times the bolt cutters slipped sideways but then I devised a way to wedge them in position – success, my hands were free.  I didn’t wait to cut the cuff off each wrist; I could do this at home (even if I didn’t find the keys).   It was perhaps more of a relief to remove the gag.

The Return Trip

I had to get out of the place before the security men returned.   So I quickly tidied myself up and set off for the long walk back to my car.  For most of the way the trip was uneventful, that was until I was about half way back.  Suddenly there were bright flashing lights, the police, an ambulance, numerous tow trucks, cars and a little crowd of people.  There had been a road accident, but from this distance I couldn’t make out what had happened.  Of course, I could once again sit and wait for them all to go (that may take hours), or take a detour through the mangrove swamp (wet, muddy and treacherous), or take a detour across the exposed wastes of the sand hills (not as bad as tackling the mangroves – but likely to be seen and hard going on loose sand).  I made up my mind – I would just have to sit and wait. 

I found myself a fairly comfortable concealed spot in the bushes edging the mangroves and settled back.  It was only then that I realised just how cold I was – it can get very chilly at 2.30 am on a clear, moonless night.  Two tow trucks passed, each towing one of the cars that had been involved in the accident, but still the small group of people and the police remained. Then the police car left the scene.  It was almost 3.30 before the last of the cars drove off.  I still had a couple of miles to go.  I hurried as fast as I could, as it would start getting light shortly after 4.  A car sped by.  I think the people inside saw me, but by now I was past caring whether they did or not. I was cold, exhausted and my feet and legs ached; in fact I ached all over. At last I got back to my car, unlocked the door, turned the key in the ignition and headed for home. When I got back there was still no sign of those dratted keys, but I decided to leave finding them to the morning. I just collapsed on the bed, took off my boots and jacket and, with the cuffs still on my wrists, I fell into a deep sleep. 

P.S. When I finally woke up next morning and went into the study, there on my desk, right next to my computer, were those damned keys.

12.09.02