Upper Reaches
She looked out the tenth floor office window at the city, watching the lights below twinkling in the darkness of the moonless night. Above the streets it was quiet in the empty office building. Construction was finished but no tenants had yet to move in after the bankruptcy had left the question of ownership in shambles. Not even the judge was sure who legally held the title, or who could collect the rent from the leases.
Before it all collapsed into courtroom battles she had the good fortune to be hired as the leasing agent, which meant she had keys to the outside doors and the model office suites. There was no business at the moment, though one of the shell companies was paying her, likely because no one knew she was still on the payroll. That made her presence legal in a technical sense, at least until the tangled ownership issue was resolved.
It had been a long walk dragging her suitcase up the stairs. The elevators were installed but not inspected, which meant they were all turned off. That left only the fire escape staircase, a long climb to reach the tenth floor. She’d managed the effort, though it took some time. In a way the difficulty was a positive; even if someone else entered the building it was highly unlikely they’d take the time to climb this far up.
The windows were tinted, hiding her behind the panes during the day or at night if she didn’t show a light. It was a perfect setting for her plan, isolated and private. She was in the heart of the city but as far from the rest of civilization as a remote island, with no one to interrupt her. She could remain up here for days and never be spotted.
She’d chosen this office space for the light coming in from the windows. The power was off in most of the building, except for the emergency lighting in the hallways and stairs. No phones, no heating or cooling, but this time of year weather wasn’t an issue. The floors did have carpet installed, but even the model suites weren’t furnished, not until the building was open. Fortunately some of the model rooms did have the built-in features installed, a crucial part of her plan.
Her plan was a simple one: heavy bondage with a long, difficult task she must complete in order to be released. Her equipment was in the suitcase; the task deceptively simple. Once securely restrained all the keys went into a built-in office safe with a keyed lock. That key to that safe was in one of the showroom offices five floors below, requiring a trip to the stairs, down five flights, and across the other floor to where the keys were located. Once she obtained the key she had to retrace her journey back to the safe, to open it so she could release her restraints. With the restrictions she planned to impose on herself it could take all night.
She did have an emergency backup. In the basement where her car was parked there was a second set of keys hidden under a blanket in the back seat. The gate to the basement parking was closed so there was little chance anyone would be there tonight. If the worst happened she could work her way down to her car and the extra set of restraint keys. It was further to travel, ten flights down and back up to her clothes instead of five each way, plus she risked exposure in the garage. That would discourage her opting to fetch the backup set.
Preparation
Reluctantly she turned away from the view below. She walked over to the front door of the empty office, mentally preparing for her adventure. This was one of the pre-planned suites, with a built-in reception desk and small waiting room that opened onto the rest of the floor plan. There wasn’t much light other than the emergency exit sign, but that was sufficient once her eyes adjusted to the dark.
She retrieved her suitcase from behind the reception desk. There was no chair, but the reception desk top was handy as a work table for unpacking. She unzipped the top and flipped it back to reveal her bondage equipment. Everything looked intact, as she expected. Before starting on her equipment she had to get ready.
Off came the shoes, jeans and top, followed by her underwear. She didn’t have any jewelry on, which left her stripped bare. Carefully she folded her clothes and placed them in the empty plastic bag she’d brought for the occasion. Opening a storage cupboard to one side she placed the bag on a shoulder-high shelf, well out of reach once she was restrained. If for some reason she couldn’t stand up when she finished tonight she’d be forced to wait until she recovered. It was one of her planned complications. It was another reason not to go down to the garage as well; there was no backup set of clothes.
Bondage always had its sexual component. For her it was represented by the most prized item in her inventory. Reaching into the case she picked up the sturdy metal chastity belt. The dim light gleamed off the polished steel of the waistband and front shield. It was an old friendship due to her long and intimate acquaintance with its tight grip around her waist and between her legs. From constant practice she located the key on her keyring by touch. Once open she wrapped the waistband around her body, above her hips. When closed it was too narrow to slip down, a guarantee it would stay in place.
Reaching down between her legs she pulled up the center section. It fitted into the slot in the center of the belt. With a turn of the key it was locked in place. She closed her eyes while running her hands around the waistband, stopping when her hands met above the triangular shield in the center. It was there to stay, blocking access except to the key holder. For the best part of tonight that key would not be in her possession.
Next came what she called her invisibility suit. It was a heavy latex body suit that completely covered her, from feet to head except for cutouts for her eyes and mouth. It also concealed the chastity belt underneath, though that wasn’t an intended use. The shiny black material was a sort of camouflage in the darkened building as well as padding for what came next.
She would be permitted to stand, even walk for her planned journey. But it wasn’t going to be easy. Her restriction started with the high heeled boots, four inch heels, manageable but not easy on her feet. Like the bodysuit they were black. She slipped her feet into the boots and zipped them closed. A small padlock at the top, a special modification, held the zipper in place. The boots weren’t coming off easily.
To test them out she walked out to the main office again, careful to stay away from the window. The tint should block anyone who happened to be looking up from seeing in, but she didn’t want to take any chances. Satisfied she could walk in the boots, no surprise since she’d practiced this many times, she went back to her suitcase.
The boots alone weren’t much of a challenge. To make it interesting she took out the next items. These were modern leg irons but with an unusual modification. She had arranged to have the connecting chain shortened to less than half the standard length. Her stride was reduced to placing one foot in front of the other, limiting her to a slow, shuffling gait. For her purposes they were ideal in restricting her ankles, now padded with the bodysuit and the boots. Reaching down she closed the first pair around her ankles, forcing her to stand with her feet close together. After checking the fit with a few steps she added a second pair, followed by a third and a fourth. The weight was noticeable now. She could still move, though hobbled with the short leg irons all she could manage was a glacially slow stumble, not much better than crawling. This particular impediment represented her greatest difficulty which she must overcome to win her freedom. Walking in slow motion would teach her the value of patience and planning. She had to think ahead to select the shortest route. A mistake could cost additional hours in captivity.
She used the key to double-lock the leg irons, so they wouldn’t close any further. A short stroll around the waiting room confirmed it was every bit as limiting as she expected. Walking would be at a snail’s pace, slow and tiring. Stairs would be especially difficult, a formidable barrier. She might have to crawl up and down them, one step at a time.
If there were ankle chains then there had to be handcuffs too. Those were still in her case. First she needed her anchor point, something to keep her hands close to her body. She’d found the solution at a police supply website, a prisoner transport belt. It was a strong, well made leather belt, sized to fit over her latex suit and chastity belt. There was a locking buckle in the front and a D-ring riveted in the back.
The belt fit snugly around her waist, just the right size. She pushed the locking button to fasten it in place before sliding it around so the buckle was in the small of her back. The D-ring, now in front, would ensure her hands stayed in one place for the duration of her journey. The handcuffs she brought were standard issue for police, left and right cuffs with a short chain between. She opened the left side and slipped it through the D-ring, working it around until the cuffs dangled on either side. To be thorough she added a second pair, again working one side through the ring.
Before locking on the cuffs she had one more obstacle that would increase the severity of her captivity. It was a heavy rubber mask, actually a tight fitting hood that fitted all the way down her neck. A pair of plastic lenses screwed on over the eye openings, creating a distorted, out of focus picture. She wouldn’t be blindfolded, that was too risky. But with everything a blur she would have to be very careful, relying on her memory as much as her eyes.
It was a real gas mask, with separate intake and outlet ports. Both had simple flap valves, one bending out the exhale, the other bending in to inhale. The extra difficulty was the size of the intake. With the restrictor plate attached the intake diameter was much smaller, designed to allow only enough air for normal, slow breathing. Too much exertion, her demand for air would increase but would be limited by the intake valve so that she would be forced to pause, literally to catch her breath. Practicing at home had proved to her satisfaction it worked all too well. Regardless of what she wanted she would be forced to take her time, walking slowly, resting often, and in the process learning the value of patience.
Below the mask went a stiff leather posture collar around her neck. It served a dual purpose: to keep the mask in place; and sharply reduce head movement. If she wanted to stop and look around she’d have to turn her whole body, not just her head. With the impaired vision through the mask she wouldn’t see much anyway.
Once the mask and collar were on she’d reached the point of no return. Opening the handcuffs she fastened her right wrist first, carefully counting the clicks from the ratchet. She knew exactly how far to go so that she couldn’t slip out, but the cuff wasn’t too tight. After double-locking the right side she repeated the procedure with her left wrist. The extended length handcuff key made it possible to reach the double-lock pin with her wrists held close together. She had to work by touch since she couldn’t look down, and in any case she couldn’t see what she was doing anyway.
A sharp yank forward with her hands was brought up short by the transport belt. She tried to reach up to the mask on her head but was again held back. With all her strength she tried to pull her hands apart with no success. The handcuffs definitely worked as advertised.
Still working by feel alone she gathered up all the keys for the cuffs and dropped them into her purse, next to the car and building keys. Reaching in she checked to make sure her phone was in there too. Leaning forward she felt around on the reception desk to make sure she didn’t miss anything. Holding onto the purse with both hands she slowly headed out of the foyer to the next office. Clumsily opening the door she went inside.
The office was empty except for the open cabinet along one wall. Behind the cabinet door she could just make out the darker shadow of the built-in safe, the kind that used a key rather than a combination. It was bolted to the floor even though it was much too heavy for her to move. It wasn’t meant to be high security but it was sufficient to discourage a casual thief. She leaned over to toss her purse in the open safe door, took a deep breath, and then reached down to close the door. There was a loud click when the lock engaged. She tugged on the handle to make sure it was securely shut.
She was committed now. She knew where the key to the safe could be found, several floors below. All she had to do was retrieve it and bring it back here in order to free herself from her bonds. It sounded simple enough in theory. In practice she was about to find out how difficult it would be.
She stood up, took a step back and pushed the cabinet door closed with her knee. On an impulse she made her way to the outside window, keeping in the shadows on the off chance someone was watching the building. Looking down at the out of focus street lights below she thought about what she’d just done. Despite all her precautions there was no question it was a risky and probably dangerous stunt. She could fall, the mask could malfunction and suffocate her, or someone might discover her, nicely trussed up and all but helpless. Any rational way she looked at it came out to be an act of carelessness and stupidity.
She stretched out her hands in front while pulling her feet as far apart as possible. The bonds were all too real, cold steel that made it impossible to ignore or escape. She had no choice but to obey the dictates of the task she must complete. The restraints controlled her, deciding what she was allowed, and more importantly what was prohibited. Behind the mask she closed her eyes, savoring the moment that made all the risks worth it.
She was helpless, unable to run away or resist. Even a small child could easily overpower her. All it would take to subdue her was a hand over the intake on the mask, cutting off her air. Her only advantage, such as it was, was the secret location of the safe key. Without that key she had the security of her chastity belt but little else to protect her if she were caught.
She fantasized about being captured. How long could she hold out before revealing the location of that key? She had experimented while wearing the mask, placing a wet cloth across the intake. The sensation was similar to what she’d read about waterboarding. It wouldn’t take much of that for her to start talking.
She opened her eyes. She didn’t want to go down that imaginary road. Besides, the clock was running now. She had to get that key and make it back to regain her freedom. Why do I do this to myself? She always asked herself that question when it was too late to back out.
Opening her eyes she took one last look at the city below. No one out there would come to her assistance. Her phone was in her purse, locked in the safe along with the keys. No one could see her, no one knew she was here, and she had no way to call for help. If something went really wrong she could crawl to the building entrance but the doors were locked. She would have to sit there, hoping someone would eventually notice her and call the police. That was a nightmare outcome and one she didn’t want to contemplate.
The Journey Begins
No more delays, she told herself. She had an assignment to accomplish. It had to be finished tonight, no excuses, no procrastination. A journey starts with the first step. She took that first step toward the hallway door. The leg chains quickly brought her up short. She tried to look down but couldn’t bend far enough to see her boots. She’d forgotten about the chastity belt until it dug into her waist.
At the hallway door she had the foresight to check the door lock before going into the corridor. It was a fortunate choice, since the lock was engaged. If she hadn’t checked she’d have been locked out. She took her time making sure the door would open when she returned.
The hallway was dimly lit by the emergency lighting. There was enough light for her to find her way to the staircase door if she used one wall as a guide. The shackles on her ankles proved to be extremely effective, limiting her progress toward the stairway door to the point where progress easily rivaled a turtle. More than once she had to stop when her legs tired. She might have made better time crawling on the floor but she was determined to stick to her plan.
It felt like a major victory when she finally reached the door to the stairs. She had to stand close to reach the door handle with her hands pulled out as far as possible. The stairway door opened from either side, something she had checked early on. There was no risk of repeating her near mistake with the office door. In the stairwell she could make out the outline of her next obstacle, the metal steps of the fire escape descending down to the lobby
According to her original plan she had to crawl down the stairs, one step at a time, because her ankles were linked too closely together. She moved to the top of the stairs, still standing, and grabbed hold of the railing with both hands. Maybe, if she was careful, she could find a way to stay upright while negotiating one step at a time. Turning sideways she tried to lower one foot down to the first step. Her ankle chains pulled taut but she felt her boot heel land on a solid surface. For once the high heels paid off. Gripping the rail tightly in case she slipped she slid the other boot over the edge and lowered it to the step. She had to stand with her feet at an angle, partially over the edge, but she had made it. It was an awkward position, but with her knees bent and leaning forward she was able to hold onto the handrail. Elated at not being forced to crawl she was proud of her small success. The stairs would not be quite as formidable as she expected as long as she was careful to steady herself with her hands.
Her trip down the stairs still took a long time even though she was able to remain upright. She had to stop frequently to rest her legs. Being forced to keep her knees bent put a lot of strain on her calf muscles. At every landing she took the opportunity to relieve her knees by straightening her legs. Once her air shut off, forcing her to stand still, praying the small amount left in the mask would be enough until the intake opened again.
Several times she jerked on her handcuffs, hoping they would somehow spring open. She knew it wouldn’t happen. They were high quality handcuffs certified for police use, reliable, tough and durable. If only she hadn’t used that transport belt. If only the chains between her ankles were a few links longer, so it would be easier climbing down the stairs. If only she hadn’t put on that awful mask. If only, if only…
There were plenty of wishes mixed with regrets but it made no difference. She was not in a position to change her choices. She could either accept the restrictions imposed on her by the restraints, work within the limits they forced on her, or she could …
What could she do? That thought raced through her mind over and over again. She could stand there hoping someone would find her, though that might be days, or even weeks later. That was no choice at all. The alternative was to be properly obedient, follow her orders, get that key and return to the safe.
She continued her trip down the stairs. This was the moment that made it all worthwhile. Striped of her freedom, all but helpless, compelled to obey, she was hopelessly addicted to the rush of forced submission.
Momentarily distracted she almost slipped. Fear made her gasp for breath, a serious mistake. The intake shut off, threatening to suffocate her. There was precious little air inside the mask. When the intake valve didn’t open immediately, to let in more air, she began to panic. Knowing that would only make matters worse she willed herself to stay calm.
Suddenly she could breathe again. Carefully she took slow, measured breaths, counting between them, afraid she might close the valve again. The mask wouldn’t actually suffocate her but if she pushed too hard it would cause her to become dizzy or pass out for a few seconds. In her present state that meant falling down the stairs.
Her descent turned into a real workout. She had to stop after every two or three steps, rest long enough that she wouldn’t try to take a deep breath, and then slowly attempt a few more steps.
When she finally arrived at the fifth floor door she was exhausted. To read the floor number she had to stand close to it and try to trace the blurred edges of the number against the gray paint of the wall. Before setting off in search of the safe key she sat down on the stairs to give her legs and back a long rest.
She had no idea what time it was, but it must have taken at least an hour, maybe two, to make it down five flights of stairs. That was still better than what she originally expected, sliding down one step at a time on her backside, at a slow crawl. She was nearly at the halfway point now. It would be a long night but she had confidence now that she could complete her trip.
Focus, she told herself, plan ahead, minimize movement, and above all avoid strenuous work. The restraints were there to instruct her on acceptable behavior. In that respect she’d outdone all her expectations. The distorting lenses in the mask had turned out to be far more frustrating that she expected. While she could make out objects, sort of, she had to actually touch them to be sure. If she had used a real blindfold, painted over lenses that blacked out everything, it wouldn’t have made much of a difference.
She stood up and made her way to the stairway door. Another trip back up the stairs, which she didn’t look forward to, and she’d be done. Straining against the cuffs imprisoning her hands she managed to grab hold of the door handle.
Shift Work
The job didn’t pay much but on the positive side it wasn’t hard work. This afternoon the bankruptcy judge had released funding for some building security after all parties agreed there might be a risk from vandalism. Money was tight, so only the overnight shift was approved.
The company van had dropped him off for the night. Until it returned in the morning he was on his own in an empty building. The tiny security office on the second floor wasn’t much bigger than a closet, but at least he had a chair. Power had been switched on in his office and to the security cameras only. No rounds to walk, since there weren’t any elevators yet, but the lower floors did have some of the security cameras up and running. All he had to do was sit and watch.
The cameras didn’t cover much as yet. The front entrance and hallways up to the seventh floor were wired as of this morning. Supposedly all floors would be working by next weekend. Until then there were a lot of blank spots.
He wasn’t too concerned. Without any tenants there was nothing to steal, removing most of the incentive for burglary. The building was closed, no easy way for vagrants to sneak in and hide during the day. Considering the building had gone without a night watchman for some weeks he didn’t expect any trouble.
He was just about to pour a cup of coffee when he saw motion on the fifth floor camera. The hallway camera caught the end of the stairway door closing. There wasn’t supposed to be anyone else in the building.
He sat down to see what was going on. There was a number to call if something serious happened but it was too soon for that. What would anyone be doing here at this time of night?
What he saw next was completely unexpected. Someone dressed in black, with a mask on, but also wearing leg irons and handcuffs, slowly came into view on the hallway camera. Unless this was the world’s dumbest burglar something else was going on. The solitary figure was moving very slowly, obviously limited by the ankle chains. No one else was visible.
There might be some kind of criminal activity involved but it wasn’t apparent. He decided to investigate further before calling for assistance.
Confrontation
He raced up the stairs to the corner of the fifth floor landing, next to the stairway door. Chances were the mysterious figure wouldn’t notice him right away when opening the door. He didn’t expect any resistance when he took the person into custody. Going by the pictures from the camera showing the weight and number of restraints in place it would be a simple matter to subdue the intruder.
When he heard the door latch he flattened himself against the wall. The door swung open and the dark figure slowly walked into the stairway, back toward him. He watched silently as the trespasser turned toward the stairs going up. For the first time he saw how short the leg chains were, and the transport belt used to restrict the handcuffs. He fully expected to be seen but apparently his suspect also had poor eyesight.
Moving quickly he grabbed the upper arms from behind, forcing the individual against the far wall, facing away from him. A muffled scream of shock along with the distinctive outline of wide hips under the latex suit confirmed the trespasser was female. She began fighting him, trying to twist out of his grip. He held onto her, ordering in a stern voice, “Stop that! Hold still and don’t turn around. Building security, I’m detaining you on suspicion of trespass and vandalism.” He hadn’t actually seen any evidence of the latter but threw it in to scare her.
She tried to struggle anyway, though it was in vain. He held her against the wall with his weight pressing against her back. She tried to kick but he quickly put a stop to that by stepping on the connecting chain between her ankles. Her feet were forced to the floor, one either side of his boot.
Suddenly she stopped and held still, not moving. From her gasping motion but no sound of breathing something must be wrong. When he put one hand up to her mask the heavy rubber feel with the valve outlets meant it had to be a real gas mask, not something she was using as a disguise. A quick check verified no air was going in or out. Alarmed he started to reach for the utility knife on his belt when he heard her breathing resume. She didn’t continue her attempt to fight him off. Since she appeared calm he took his foot off her ankle chain.
Keeping one hand on her back he took a step to the side to better examine her. Chained hand and foot, with that strange gas mask on, she wasn’t going to run away. And definitely a she, he thought, that suit doesn’t hide curves.
Taking hold of one arm he turned her around to face him. “That mask, is there something that restricts your airway? Does it cut out if you move around too much?”
She answered with a muffled “yes” but didn’t elaborate. At least she could talk, though it was difficult to understand her.
“Okay then, I want you to sit down on the stairs and try to keep still. I’ll help you.” He held onto her arm to steady her. Once she was seated he pulled her over to the railing. Taking out his handcuffs from the belt holder he locked one cuff around her ankle chains and the other to the bottom of the railing post. “There, I don’t want you trying to run off until I decide what to do with you.”
She could talk, so no gag was in place. He took a step back to see what he’d stumbled on. Looking her over he was impressed by how neatly she had wrapped herself up in a tidy package. It was obvious she had done it to herself. She must have assumed the building was empty and she’d be alone all night. His sudden arrival had been entirely unexpected.
“You did this to yourself, didn’t you?” He bent down to look at her more closely. The lenses over the eyes were cloudy. He couldn’t see her features. “Can you see at all through those eyepieces? What are they, painted over, some kind of plastic?”
She didn’t answer. He stood up to get a better look at what he’d caught. This had to be some kind of bondage sex game. He’d read accounts of misadventures gone wrong: people caught driving naked with handcuffs on; or found naked and tied up by family members arriving home unexpectedly. This had to be something similar.
“Okay, here’s what’s going to happen. Either you start talking, or I take a knife to that expensive looking gas mask. After I get it off your head I start taking pictures and posting them on websites. Then I call the police to deal with you. And in case you didn’t notice, I used my handcuffs to lock your leg irons to the staircase railing. You aren’t going anywhere. Now, how about you start answering questions?”
The Unexpected
Where had he come from? And what did he mean by “building security”? No one should be here, especially this late at night. For all her careful planning this was such an unlikely scenario she had no backup plan. The shock of being grabbed and thrown against the wall still left her in a daze.
She had tried to fight him in blind panic. If she’d thought first it was obvious she had no chance against him. The only result would be her air getting cut off, which is exactly what happened. That brought her rapidly back to reality.
In desperation she tried to slip a wrist out of the handcuffs when she sat down on the steps. The problem with well made, quality handcuffs is they did what they were designed for, regardless of the prisoner’s wishes. The irony of a heavy bondage scene working entirely too well brought a wry smile to her lips, hidden behind the mask. Due to her own diligent preparations she had neatly delivered herself into the hands of a total stranger. A quick tug with her feet verified he had locked her to the rail. She was trapped with no prospect of getting out of it on her own.
“Yes, I’m alone,” she replied, breaking her silence. “And no, I can’t see, at least not very well. I’m not blind but all I can make out are fuzzy outlines. If I get real close I can make out larger numbers on the wall.”
She leaned back to look up at him, an out of focus image silently watching her. He must have been behind the door, in the shadows. With her impaired vision he would have been all but invisible. He’d been waiting for her, which brought up the nagging question of how he found her.
“You’re one of those bondage types, aren’t you? Fifty Shades of Grey and all that stuff? Did you break into the building because you thought it was empty? Didn’t you spot the cameras?”
Cameras? She closed her eyes and mentally kicked herself. They weren’t supposed to be hooked up for another month, maybe longer. Someone had changed the schedule without bothering to forward the details to the leasing office. Cameras meant a security guard to watch them too. The judge must have released some money to prevent damage to the building. She’d literally walked right into the very scenario she took so much care to avoid.
“Does this belong to you?” He seemed to be holding something but she couldn’t quite make it out. She muttered some choice expletives about her decision to use the distortion lenses on the mask. Whatever he held in his hand was too blurred to recognize but it had to be the safe key. Even a faint hope of somehow getting away from him was pointless without that key. Her backup was still in the car in the basement, but reaching it was even less likely than escaping to make her way back to the tenth floor.
She didn’t answer. If he found the safe and opened it she’d have no hope left. Once he had the keys to the locks and cuffs the situation would deteriorate rapidly, to a point she didn’t even want to think about.
“Not talking? I’m betting this is critical to you getting all that hardware off. Okay then, here are your options. The first one is I leave you here for a few hours to think about showing a more positive attitude. I could look for whatever this key fits but I’m not going to waste my time searching the entire building. Hmm, this is a weekend. I could leave you here all day until my shift tomorrow. Not the way I’d choose to spend a day off, but that’s up to you. Bear in mind you won’t be going anywhere.” To emphasize his point he rattled the handcuffs anchoring her to the rail.
“The second option is we go back to what happens if you don’t talk to me. Mask cut off, lots and lots of pictures posted all over, followed by a police interrogation about what you’re doing here. If you snuck in they’ll let you go after posting bail. How you explain the pictures on the websites to your boss and all your friends, well, that’s not my problem.”
Neither of those choices appealed to her. Sitting in the stairwell all day would be miserable, and she’d be right back to where she was now, only a lot worse off. The other option was even worse, probably losing her job along with humiliation at the international level if the pictures went viral.
He sat down next to her and put an arm around her shoulders. “There is a third option. I’m not a heartless bastard, despite what you might think. How about I give you what you really want? No, I don’t mean stretching you out on the floor. Dressed like this, I have a pretty good idea of how we should proceed.” The soft, lulling tone of his voice was reassuring. He was going to let her go. She began to relax.
Suddenly his free hand covered the air intake on the mask. “I asked you a question. I expect an answer.” In an instant he had switched to a harsh, demanding bark. He pulled her close to him, preventing any attempt on her part to break free.
She began gasping for breath. “You and I both know you’re going to tell me what I want to know. We can do this the hard way,” he paused, hand still blocking her air, “or the easy way.” He removed his hand. “Now explain what this key is for, right now!”
“Yes, it’s mine.” Once she started she couldn’t seem to stop. “It opens a safe upstairs, on the tenth floor. All the other keys are in it. My clothes and purse are up there too. I didn’t break in. I manage the office leases, so I have keys to the building.”
“Five floors? You managed to make your way down five floors like that, all on your own? That’s impressive.” Even though she was afraid of him she did feel a moment of pride creep in when he complimented her.
“This is one of those self-bondage adventures, isn’t it? You have to come down here to get the safe key, and make it back upstairs to get out of the chains?” He reached over and took hold of the cuffs around her right wrist. “One set of cuffs wasn’t enough, you had to put on two?” He reached down to the leg irons on her ankle. “One, two, three, four, you have four sets of irons on? You know, one of each would have been sufficient.”
With the posture collar on she couldn’t turn her head to get a look at him. She tried to pull her wrist away from his hand, hoping to establish some kind of physical separation he might unconsciously accept. He didn’t let go.
“Don’t try that again,” he warned. For a moment he paused, thinking about her answer. She must have left out some details. “You’re not telling me the whole story. What would happen if you accidently dropped the key down the stairwell? What if the key jammed in the safe? No, you must have some kind of backup. Where’s the other set of keys?”
All Is Revealed
It didn’t take long for him to figure out the rest of her plan. She debated whether or not to tell him until he put his hand over the mask again. “I’m getting tired of these silent treatment games. Do as you’re told! Where are the rest of the keys?”
Once she got her breath she told him everything. “My car’s in the basement. The spare keys are under a blanket in the back seat. The doors are unlocked. It’s a silver Ford, parked in the far corner so it can’t be seen from the street.”
“That’s better. See? If you follow instructions, let others take charge then nothing bad will happen. Isn’t that what you want, to let go, hand control over to someone else?” Without thinking about it she leaned against him, eyes closed, fascinated by the quiet words he spoke. “You’re going to be okay. It’s too dangerous for you to go up five floors like that. One slip and you could break an arm, a leg, or your neck. I’m not going to put you at risk by letting you go. You will stay here while I bring back the keys and your clothes. After that I’ll explain what we’ll do next.”
With that he stood up and began climbing the stars. She tried to turn to watch him but the posture collar got in the way. It didn’t really matter since she was still virtually blinded by the mask. Like it or not she had to trust him. Her hesitation in disclosing the location of the keys only worked if he could be persuaded to let her go. She now knew that wasn’t going to happen. Maybe cooperating would generate some compassion on his part. He’d take off the chains, she’d change her clothes, they’d part company as friendly acquaintances when she got in her car and drove home. They’d never meet again, and the incident would be forgotten.
She leaned her head against the stairway rail. Maybe it was for the best to give in and let him decide what to do. She wanted to feel powerless; this night had delivered that particular experience in excess. She’d delivered herself into the hands of a man who by all appearances intended to take full advantage of the neatly bundled package she’d put together.
A damsel in distress, that’s what I am, she thought. The mystery ending is whether she’d been rescued by the hero or fallen into the clutches of the villain. Once more she tried to straighten out her legs. And once more she was pulled up short, still secured to the railing. That was one for the villain column, at least until he came back.
If he came back, and that train of thought haunted her. How long could she last, cuffed to the rail? If no one showed up to work on the building over the next few days, or if they didn’t use the stairway, no one would find her alive.
A False Hope
Relief dispelled the black cloud of her imminent demise the moment she heard his boots on the stairs. He was coming back. That was one for the hero column. Villains didn’t return to the scene of the crime. After he walked past her she heard the sound of a suitcase being dropped on the landing.
“That was your bag. I put your clothes inside.” That he’d brought her clothes had to be a good omen. “I’m sure you’re in a hurry to get that hardware off but you’ll have to wait a little while longer. There’s still the matter of your car. I’m going to search it, and if I find you held out on me I’m not going to be in a good mood when I get back. So if there’s anything else I need to know you’d do well to tell me now. So?”
So he wasn’t going to free her immediately. At least he left open the possibility she might be freed later on. Was there anything in her car other than the backup keys? “There’s a briefcase in the back seat, sir. It has some business papers, that’s all.”
He crouched down, in front of her. “Look, I know you’re worried. Anybody would be scared in your place. Nothing bad is going to happen,” he reassured her. “Try to relax and not think about those nightmare scenarios. You’ll have to trust my intentions.” He put a hand on her knee. “After all, isn’t that what losing control is all about? Not playacting, but the real deal. Enjoy the moment.”
With those parting words he stood up and began walking down the stairs. He did move her bag out of reach so she couldn’t get to it after he left. That hadn’t been her plan but he must have thought she’d make the attempt.
Whether or not the keys were in the bag was another question. He wasn’t stupid or careless. From what she’d seen so far he wouldn’t make a simple mistake like leaving an easy way for her to escape. In any case with the bag halfway down the next flight of stairs it was far beyond her reach.
The Return
She heard someone coming up the stairs long before she could see who it was. “Relax, it’s me,” came the now familiar voice of her nameless captor. “The other set of keys were right where you described. And yes I did check your briefcase, as well as the trunk and under the seat. By the way, that flashlight in the glove compartment? The battery is long dead. You should check it once in a while.”
Behind the mask she almost laughed. Of all the things going on, dead batteries in a flashlight were at the very bottom of her list of worries.
“Now, let’s get started on you.” She felt his hands behind her head, along with the rattle of keys. “Here we go.” Suddenly the posture collar came off. In this case absence did not make the heart grow fonder. She turned her head back and forth, working out the stiffness she hadn’t noticed until now.
“Hold still,” he ordered. Again he hands were on the back of her exposed neck. Then the wonderful sound of the gas mask being unzipped came to her ears, before he pulled the hood off her head. Suddenly she could breathe normally again. Between deep breaths and blinking her eyes back into focus she watched the back of the man packing away the collar and mask in her suitcase. The bag with her clothes was on the landing next to the case.
When he stood up and turned around she got her first real look at him. In the bondage stories the male was always some Norse god with bulging muscles. The most charitable adjective that came to mind for the real life version was average. Average looks, average height, average everything, although the black, authoritarian security guard uniform was attractive. What he did have was her undivided attention, focused on the bundle of keys in his hand.
She hoped he’d take the handcuffs off next but he had something else in mind. “I’m going to take off the leg irons next. Don’t go crazy violent and try to kick my face in, okay?”
“I’ll be good, sir.” The thought of attacking him hadn’t occurred to her. With her hands still cuffed it would have been pointless anyway.
He started by removing his own pair of handcuffs, the ones anchoring her to the rail. Those went back into the holder on his duty belt. She quietly watched while he worked on her leg irons, removing them one at a time. When he finished, all four sets went into the suitcase. “Can you stand up? Do you need a minute to stretch your legs first?” He stood to one side, hands on her arm.
She flexed her now unencumbered legs a few times. “I think I can stand, if you’ll help me up?” She leaned forward while he lifted her up. Her feet were beginning to feel the effects of the high heels on her boots. As soon as he released her hands she could take them off.
He didn’t let go of her arm. The reason became obvious when he suddenly pushed her against the wall again. With the handcuffs and waist belt she was still powerless to resist him. “There’s something you forgot to tell me. There’s one key left that doesn’t seem to unlock anything.” His hands went to her waist and the chastity belt underneath. “What is this? I can feel it, something close fitting.” He followed the band around to the front, down between her legs. “It’s locked on too, isn’t it? Tell me, right now!”
Her Last Secret
“It’s a chastity belt. The front blocks sexual access. The waistband is too narrow to slip over my hips. I can’t get out of it without the key.” The words came tumbling out. She didn’t understand how he managed it but that certain commanding tone of voice wiped out any thought of resistance.
He turned her around so they were face to face. One hand went to the chain between her cuffs, holding her in place. “How long can you wear that belt? Hours, days, weeks?” His face was very close. His eyes locked with hers.
“So far I’ve gone for three days without any problems. That was a three day weekend at home. I’ve never worn it in public.” Again the compulsion to answer him overcame her determination to keep the belt a secret.
“That long? Okay, turn around and I’ll unhook you from those handcuffs.” When she turned around he unlocked the transport belt. It hung from her cuffs. “Face me,” he ordered. When she turned back to him he opened both pairs, releasing her wrists. She was finally free of all her self-imposed restraints. He dumped the transport belt and handcuffs into the suitcase.
A moment of truth had finally arrived. Her latex body suit was next, but there wasn’t anything underneath it, except the chastity belt. Would he force her to strip in front of him?
A smile crossed his face for a moment. “Yeah, I can guess what you’re thinking. No, that’s not what comes next. I’m going to leave you alone while you change. I’m going back to my office now. All your stuff is here. You can leave as soon as you’re ready.”
Her ordeal was over. Aside from the embarrassment at being caught, and a few scary moments while he had some fun at her expense the night had ended without any serious incidents.
He started down the stairs. “There is one last detail we have to clear up,” he stopped and turned back toward her. “I’m going to hold onto these,” he held both sets of restraint keys. “You proved you can’t be trusted with them after the way you put yourself at risk tonight. From now on when you want a bondage moment you’ll have to rely on me to supervise their proper use in a safe environment.”
Shocked at what he implied she didn’t respond. Those were the only keys she had. Without them all her expensive equipment was just so much steel and leather. Then she remembered the chastity belt, still fastened around her waist. There were only two keys, and he had both of them. He continued his descent down the stairs.
“Wait!” she called out, rushing to the top of the flight of stairs. “I need the key to the chastity belt!” The other keys she could replace by ordering spares, but getting a new key for the belt, and that was no guarantee, might take weeks. She couldn’t wait that long.
He stopped, looking over his shoulder at her. “No, you don’t need it. I’ll decide when it comes off.” He held up his phone. “I took the liberty of searching your purse. Driver’s license, business card, credit cards, you even had a bank statement. I have all the contact information I need. I’ll let you know when you’ll be given permission to remove it.” With that he continued down the stairs.
Back Home
The rest of the night went without incident. After changing into street clothes she managed to drag the suitcase down to the garage, got in her car and drove home. Meanwhile he must have disappeared into some other part of the building since she didn’t see him again.
Back at her apartment, tired and still worrying about the belt between her legs, she left the case in the trunk of the car. A hot bath felt wonderful but didn’t help her concern over what her mysterious stranger intended to do next.
In spite of the belt still locked around her waist she slept soundly. The next morning she woke early so she took the opportunity to lie in bed. Tomorrow she’d have to go back to work at the realty office. If he didn’t magically appear with a key she had to face the bleak possibility of wearing the belt to work, something she’d never done before. In fact, she’d never risked going out in public with it on.
She could get away with it, if she wore a dress or skirt that didn’t fit too tightly. A skirt with a wide belt would cover the outline of the steel waistband, so she should be safe from discovery if she was careful. That solved the immediate problem but still left her in search of a long term solution. Maybe a discreet locksmith could get it off her; she’d have to do a search online. Better a short-lived private humiliation rather than developing sores and facing awkward questions from emergency services while they cut it off.
Would he contact her again? She went over his parting words, looking for subtle nuances in his tone, hoping to find some clue. He had everything he needed to find her. All she had was his place of employment.
What did she know about him? Last night could have gone in a decidedly unpleasant direction if he was some kind of mental case. It hadn’t happened, and she said a silent prayer of thanks for her good fortune in that respect. On the other hand he hadn’t been all that compassionate and caring either. There had been a few moments when he seemed to be concerned about her, immediately followed by an abrupt change to a domineering attitude made memorable by the rapid and curtly issued orders she was compelled to obey.
That tone in his voice confused her more than anything else. How had he managed to strip away her resistance so quickly? True, she was helpless at the time, depending solely on his decency not to attack her, or worse. Even so, she could have tried to reason with him rather than quietly submit his every order.
She got up and went to her laptop. Checking her email she was surprised to see a recent arrival from an unfamiliar name. Opening it she read the few lines of text over and over, not believing what she saw.
You’re worried about that belt, aren’t you? That first line confirmed his identity. You needn’t be concerned. I will explain what will happen next when I call for you at 6pm tonight. We will have dinner, where I will return one key for your belt. The restaurant dress code is jacket and tie for men, dress accordingly. Do not reply to this email. There wasn’t anything else.
He’d kept his word in one respect with the email. The implied promise to contact her had been fulfilled, though she wasn’t too happy about the contents. Irritated at his abrupt manner she moved the cursor to the reply button, even though he had told her not to reply. She had plenty to say.
The minutes ticked by while she stared at the screen, her finger poised to click the mouse button. She had to admit he had something she desperately needed. Sending a long email rant would not improve her chances of getting the belt key back. Reluctantly she took her hand off the mouse. Like it or not he was still in charge.
Better I have it out with him face to face, she told herself. She wasn’t going to dinner with him, today or any other day. Assuming he showed up she would confront him, demand the key back, and if he didn’t cooperate she’d threaten to go to his employer. He wasn’t the only one with some leverage.
Six o’clock
She checked the clock on her dresser for the hundredth time. It showed a few minutes to six. Once more she turned from side to side to make sure the belt didn’t show under the dress. The reflection showed the basic black dress, an all-purpose reliable, along with a nice pair of heels, understated ear rings, a gold chain necklace and wristwatch. Satisfied it would pass for wherever he was taking her she went out to wait in the living room.
All day she had gone back and forth, debating whether to go or not. Finally she settled on a public place as the better location to put an end to any further contact. She had no idea what he was capable of, including a violent reaction when he didn’t get his way. She’d be safer around other people.
She jumped when the doorbell chimed at precisely six. He was on time; she couldn’t fault him for that. When she opened the door it was the same man she’d met the night before. He had on a suit and tie but her first impression was based more on the intense stare as his eyes swept over her. He might not be in uniform but there was still an aura of self-assured authority that swept away her plan to remain cool and aloof.
“Take off the watch, you won’t need it. Leave it on the table.” He pointed toward the coffee table in front of her couch. When their eyes locked her refusal died before she spoke a word. He did it again, she thought while she carefully laid her watch on the coffee table.
“That’s better. The dress is a good choice, by the way, very attractive. We have reservations, so if you’re ready?”
“Thank you. Do you think it will be appropriate for the restaurant?” She picked up her purse.
“My car is just outside. We have early reservations.” He remained in the doorway. She got the hint; he wanted to leave right away.
Outside he opened the car door for her and helped her in. He does have manners, she noted. The man she saw tonight didn’t fit with her preconceived notions of the usual security guard. Something didn’t seem right. Maybe he’d be more forthcoming over drinks and a meal.
Before he started the car there was one more surprise. He held up a plastic bag. “Your phone, keys and wallet, put them in here. I’ll give them back to you when we’re done for the evening.”
That was too much. She had to stop him right now. “I don’t think so,” she refused.
At first he said nothing, though he continued to hold out the bag. “You’re going to do as I say. You know it, I know it. We’re wasting time. Put them in here, now.” He didn’t raise his voice but she heard the edge in it. In went all the items he asked for, without another word between them. He reached down to slide the bag under his seat.
Despite all she wanted to say to him the drive proceeded in silence. She turned away from him to look at her reflection in the side window. Her carefully worked out plan from this afternoon had fallen apart within minutes. He’d taken away her means to walk out on the date. Like it or not she was back to depending on him.
What the Future Holds
He dropped the belt key on the table in front of her. “You get one, and I keep one,” he explained. “You have permission to take the belt off in the evening. It goes back on in the morning, and that includes every day of the week. You will place the key on your dresser when you leave for work.”
That got her attention. “I can’t wear it to…” she began.
“Yes you can,” he interrupted. “And you will. It will be difficult but not impossible. You are intelligent and resourceful; you will find a way.” He put his hands on the table and leaned forward. “There is no alternative. I am confident you can accomplish this. Don’t disappoint me. There will be no further discussion.”
That was it. She’d had enough of his arrogance. “Look, I appreciate what you did for me last night, I really do. But it’s over. I want all the keys back, not just the belt, so hand them over. And if you think I’m going to wear this belt to work every day, well that’s not going to happen. To make it perfectly clear, there is nothing going on between us, so don’t presume to tell me what to do. We’ll finish dinner, and then go out to your car so you can give me back my stuff. I’ll find my own way home.”
The lack of any reaction on his part left her puzzled. He sat across from her, not speaking a word, just staring. She half expected him to grab for the belt key, still on the table, but he didn’t move.
“Did I make myself clear enough for you? Are we going to have a problem?”
Finally he replied, “No, no problem. Your instructions were simple. I’m not going to repeat myself.” He leaned forward, an intent look in his eyes.
“I imagine you worked on that little speech all day long. I’m not going to debate your points or argue with you. There is something between us, as you put it. You and I both know what it is. You need someone to control your life. That someone is me. From now on you’re going to do as you’re told. You will pick up that key, you will wear the belt tomorrow, and you will put it on every day from now on until I tell you otherwise. The rest I will explain later.”
“I…” she couldn’t find the words to argue with him. She had what she came for, the belt key, but somehow it now represented not freedom but acceptance of his conditions. If she picked it up she’d have to find some way to follow his instructions. It had to be all or nothing. She looked up at him, across the table. I can’t agree to this, she thought even as she watched her hand pick up the key and drop it in her purse.
“I’m not going to return your other keys. From now on I will decide when and for how long your bondage sessions will last. It’s important for you to depend on me; without the keys you will learn patience and obedience. Think about last night, what it was like when you realized you were trapped, helpless, unable to free yourself. Fantasy became reality. Do you really want to go back to make-believe?”
It was the question she wanted to avoid answering. There was a long speech about her independence, that he had no right to dominate her life without her agreement, and even if she did agree there had to be negotiations. She decided it was time to make her position clear to him.
“Look, I’m not saying we can’t work something out, but you have to understand…” she began.
“No,” he interrupted. “I don’t have to understand, and we don’t have to work it out. I know exactly what’s going to happen. You’ll learn about it when I tell you. We’re not going to talk it over, set limits, or anything else you had prepared in your speech.”
She stared at him across the table. Once again he’d brushed aside all her careful preparations in seconds.
“There’s nothing complicated here. I will tell you what I want. You will make sure I get what I demand from you. You learned from last night you can trust me, so there will be no questions in that regard. You also acted irresponsibly by placing yourself at risk in a careless manner. For that reason alone someone else must act in your best interest. That someone is me.”