“Are you sure you want to do this?” Nick asked.
I nodded. If he knew how much I really had in mind, he’d have been even more concerned, but my mind was made up.
We were about to embark on a bondage weekend. Bondage was an addiction, worse at least for me than any drug I could imagine, and like a lot of addictions, feeding it only made it worse. Or better. In any event, more intense. Nick would never hurt me, certainly not deliberately, and not by any accident of carelessness. He enjoyed our game, cherished my submission, but he was very careful. Part of that was good. I didn’t like pain and I was not into any of the corporal punishment stuff at all. But he was just too worried about even discomfort to allow me the extended sessions that I wanted. That I needed.
His present concern was with my desire to have my corset and heels locked on me for the entire weekend. I loved the idea of locked-on clothes, especially ones that constantly reminded me of their restrictions even when we were out in public. Nick had indulged me with a wonderfully-tight corset, and crotch-high boots with heels even I found barely wearable. Shoulder-high gloves were connected to a collar that was just tall enough to remind me constantly of its presence. They were all equipped with locking hasps, and what I wanted to do was leave the keys to these locks home while we went to a remote cabin getaway for a three day weekend.
“I’m sure. Leave the keys here,” I confirmed.
Nick shrugged, but nodded. He placed the color-coded keys to the locks on the clothes I was already wearing on the dresser. Moving carefully in the heels, I pulled on a pair of inexpensive black cotton panties noting with amusement his small frown of disappointment. Well, he’d understand later. The corset had just enough support for my breasts that I could go without a bra and his frown was replaced by a smirky little grin when I reached for my black blouse.
He liked for me to wear black, claiming that it made my blonde hair shine like it was golden fire. He also claimed that it made the chains I often wore stand out better. Who was I to argue? My corset was black, my boots were black, and with the shoulder-length gloves and collar, I looked like something out of a fetish magazine. A black wrap skirt, pulled tightly to accent my corseted waist, and an almost-sheer black blouse completed my outfit. I could tell he liked it. The evidence was obvious.
“Are we ready to go?” I asked.
“The truck is packed. We can leave as soon as you’re ready,” Nick said.
“Baby, I was born ready,” I laughed. His grin got a bit sheepish at leaving me the obvious opening, but I saw a glint in his eyes that promised he intended to have the last laugh. Good.
“Just let me visit the powder room one last time,” I said. “Why don’t you think about how you’ll keep me out of trouble once we get to the cabin?”
“What makes you think I’m going to wait till we get to the cabin?” he replied, grinning with anticipation of his loving revenge.
“Ooh, that sounds interesting,” I cooed, putting an extra little flip in my walk as I moved to the bathroom. Like I had any choice in those heels. If the boots hadn’t been so stiff at my ankles, and so tight, I’m not sure I’d have been able to walk at all. Once the door was closed behind me, I hid the items I had taken behind some towels. He’d find out later what was missing.
I was a bit disappointed when he just helped me into our SUV with no special, um, inducements to behave. But part of our agreement for the weekend was that I couldn’t ask for any restraints to be placed on me. It was all to be his choice, since he knew I would tend to more intense bondage than he felt comfortable applying and he didn’t want any arguments or nagging. Not that I ever nag, or course. Suggest maybe. But never nag.
It turned out that part of the reason he left me free, or at least encumbered only by my clothes, was that he had planned for us to eat at a nice restaurant to start the weekend. The look the hostess gave me was priceless, envy and admiration flickering under a veneer of disdain that was so false it was funny. Maybe it was the obvious ring on the front of my collar. Or perhaps she heard the faint tinkle of the locks on my boots when I walked. Whatever the reason, I certainly had her attention.
While I was slipping into my seat, I whispered to her, “Stop drooling, hun. And find yourself someone who can make you into what you want to be.”
She blushed before her denial could make it to her lips, then stifled her own comment when the heat in her face made it a waste of time. Ducking her head, she fled back to her station, glancing back over her shoulder to find my grin still following her.
“That wasn’t nice,” Nick said, but his own grin showed he appreciated my comment and its effect. “As a penance for your sin, go into the bathroom and take off your panties. You won’t feel nearly sensual enough as long as you’re wearing that boring cotton pair.”
“Oh, you, saying I’m not nice when you’re the one who’s really bad,” I said, but I was moving with my words. So much for my plans for those panties. I should have known he’d be way ahead of me on that. Ha! Maybe at some level I did, which might have contributed to my choice.
In a few minutes I was back, slipping him my panties under the table. He folded them neatly, as though they were a napkin, and placed them on the table near the wall.
“You can’t leave those out like that?” I gasped.
“Can’t?” he said, lifting one eyebrow.
My mouth opened of its own accord, then closed without a word. The blush that had fired the hostess’s cheeks had nothing on the one that I knew I wore. Somehow, letting people know I wasn’t wearing panties was a whole lot more intense than just not wearing them. Then he upped the ante and I decided I never should have gotten him that “Story of O” movie.
“Pull your skirt up, so that you’re sitting directly on the seat,” he commanded. I tried to do it discreetly, but the contrast of my fair skin (I never could get a good tan) and black clothes made a flash of fanny inescapable. Of course, right then is when our waiter appeared. His grin had the same smirky pride that Nick showed, and I knew he had enjoyed the show. I could tell he understood, too, because after that he never said a word to me. Which is not to say that he never looked at me.
Nick ordered for us both, not consulting me. Of course, he already knew what I would want, but it was obvious that he was in charge. This was actually a bit new for us. Before, when we had played our games we had always been private, or maybe in a dark movie theater. This was the first time that he had shown a dominant face to strangers. It was kind of exciting, in a scary sort of way.
He chose well, of course, and we passed the rest of the meal in light conversation, carefully ignoring the panties on the table. Even when we rose to leave, the panties continued to be ignored. At least by us. I could see the waiter hovering nearby and I swear I saw his reflection in a dark glass divider as he picked them up and sniffed them while we walked away.
Once we got back to the SUV, Nick opened the rear door instead of my passenger door. “I told you that I didn’t intend to wait till we got to the cabin,” he said.
“Oh, so you did,” I said quietly. Actually, this might mess up the plans that I had made. “Nicky,” I said, putting a little girl plead into my tone, “would you make me one little promise?”
His eyebrow lifted, all the commitment I was going to get on a blank check.
“Would you promise me that whatever you do, you won’t undo it until we get to the cabin? Please?”
“That’s a four hour drive,” he said. “More if the road is muddy, and I heard it rained up there this week.”
“I know,” I said, sending him little puppy-dog eyes of entreaty.
“Very well,” he said, a grin making it clear his agreement was not all that difficult to achieve. Or maybe he was just enjoying my wheedling.
He pulled a pair of handcuffs from his pocket, but instead of putting them on me, he tossed them in our goody bag and pulled out a pair of fur-lined leather cuffs that were more suitable for extended wear. I twirled as fast as I could in my heels, offering my wrists behind me to him.
“You won’t be able to sit in the seat with your wrists behind your fanny,” he observed.
Before he could make an actual order to turn around, I lifted my hands behind my back, reaching as high as I could. Like I said, I never nag, but sometimes I make suggestions.
“You truly are insatiable,” he sighed. I worried that I had gone too far, but instead of ordering me to turn around, he started fastening the cuffs on my wrists. Reaching into the goody bag, he took out a short chain and hooked my wrists to the ring on the back of my collar, the one that had been hidden by my hair until then. Two snicks announced the closing of two locks, and my wrists were held about as high as I could comfortably stand. I was pretty flexible, and we had played with that position before so he knew he could draw them up quite a ways in a double hammerlock.
I sighed myself, shivering a little with the thrill of being bound at last. Nick reached under my skirt and pinched my bare bottom before opening my door.
“Be careful what you ask for,” he said. “You may get it.”
Little did he know.
The next couple of hours passed without incident, at least, until we needed to stop for gas. I could see the gauge, and when I thought we were getting to that point, I started chattering on about silly little things that were hardly worth the breath to express, let alone the conversation time of two adults. The stars were so, like, awesome, and like, so cool, and . . .
I didn’t think he was even aware I was doing the valley girl thing on him until we pulled into the station.
“Do you have to go to the rest room?” he asked.
I was about to deny it, but I really did have to go, and my secret would come out sooner or later. So I nodded, hoping that he would remember his promise. He did, so my secret stayed secret. Instead of releasing my arms, he just got the rest room key from the attendant and opened the door for me. As I walked into the small room, a one-holer, I wondered if he had been ahead of me all along. With no panties, I didn’t quite need my hands to get the job done. A hip flip that almost dumped me off of my heels got my skirt up over the seat, and I took care of business with real relief. Unfortunately, I couldn’t wipe, and was a bit worried about that.
“Nicky!” I called out.
“I need your help,” I said.
“Tough,” he said lightly.
“But, Nicky, it’s not, um, well I’m still, um, wet.”
“I’ve been smelling that ever since we left the restaurant,” he said.
“Not that sort of wet!” I yelled, but I couldn’t help but laugh.
He was laughing, too, as he pushed open the door and quickly stepped in. A moment of help - he had actually done this before and more besides - and I was ready to go. He even helped me back up on my heels. I certainly didn’t need to wash my hands, so we walked back out to the truck, ignoring the glance from the attendant who was trying to decide just what he was seeing under all the hair tumbling down my back. Black leather cuffs on black gloves against a black blouse didn’t show enough to prove a problem, though I wondered if his fantasies got a quick charge.
As soon as we were back in the SUV I started chattering again, interrupting what he had to say with irrelevancies that made it seem like I was not listening to him. He hates that. After a while, he got my suggestion. Good thing I never nag.
Without a word, he pulled off the interstate into a deserted parking lot and walked around to the goody bag. “Where’s the ball gag?” he asked, pawing through the stuff in the bag.
“Oh, Nicky, you don’t need to gag me. I’ll be quiet,” I said. “Just tell me to be quiet and I won’t say another word for the whole trip. I’ll just listen to whatever you want to say, and maybe nod or something. Or like, maybe I’ll encourage you, or . . . “
He interrupted my chatter. “I asked you a question.”
I just shrugged. Or at least, tried to. It didn’t work very well with my arms pulled so far back already, but he got the message. Actually, I knew very well where it was, but I wasn’t ready to tell him that, yet. He started looking through the bag again and came out with the one gag I had left in there. It was hardly my favorite gag. I actually liked the ball gag better. This one was a ring gag, a steel circle wrapped in leather, with straps to go around my head and hold it in place. We had gotten the deluxe model, with snap-in attachments, and after he had locked the basic ring in my mouth (Nicky does like to lock things in place, even if my arms are already restrained), he snapped a thick cylinder of plastic into the opening, forcing my tongue down and completing the blockage. There wasn’t any way to actually lock the cylinder (all right, call it a dildo, that’s what it looked like) into place, but there was no way I could dislodge the tight snaps. All part of the plan, a plan that was beginning to look a bit more intimidating than I had expected.
Now that he was taking things to a higher level, Nick got out two more pairs of leather cuffs, fastening one set around my ankles and another around my knees. Two more locks snicked shut, restraining my legs with only the inch or so of slack provided by the width of the padlock. The rest of the trip passed in silence. Not angry silence, of course. But very quiet none the less.
It had indeed rained in the mountains as we approached the cabin, in fact it was still raining. The dirt track that had justified the four-wheel-drive SUV in the first place was still passable, though slick in places. I wouldn’t have been saying anything then, even if I could, so that Nick could concentrate on his driving. But we arrived at the little clearing where the cabin stood more or less when we had expected, perhaps an extra hour enroute is all, not including the stop at the restaurant. Of course, my arms had been lifted in a stringent hammerlock for that extra time, and my mouth filled with a gag that seemed bigger with each passing hour. I was in that strange heavenly hell of ever-increasing need to move my arms, which led to ever-increasing arousal at the impossibility of meeting such a basic need. It made me intensely aware of my whole body, feeling the aches and tingles in limbs that once upon a time I had taken for granted.
Not to mention the hard buttons of my nips, so close (well, Duh!) but so unreachable.
The rain was coming down pretty steadily when Nick parked the truck. He moved quickly to my side and reached again for the goody bag. Even though I couldn’t get much sound out, I grunted excitedly and tried to catch his eye.
“Huh? What’s wrong?” he asked.
I looked at him and then at the cabin, tossing my head toward the small building.
“You silly fool,” he said, laughing despite the rain. “You never get enough, do you?”
I shook my head. Does that mean no I never get enough, or no he was wrong and in saying I didn’t? I hate negative questions. Anyway, this time he got the message and laughed again. He undid my seat belt and threw me over his shoulder (which did interesting things to my skirt) and carried me into the cabin with one arm while carrying the goody bag in the other. Once there he set me down carefully on the couch, then started to root around in the goody bag again. I slid quickly to the rug before the fireplace and rolled on my stomach, lifting my legs behind me into a hogtie position.
“You really are into this,” he said quietly, worry beginning to replace humor in his expression.
This was about the point where he would normally start releasing me, even if I begged to stay bound. However, he nodded instead and reached for another chain from the goody bag, this one about three feet long. He lifted me by the waist for a moment, passing the chain under me. Then he clipped a lock so that the chain made a belt with a foot or so of chain extending from the middle of my back. Another lock hooked my ankles to that chain with my boot heels resting lightly on my exposed fanny, Nick having considerately flipped my skirt up high enough to expose it.
“Okay,” he said. “I’ll go along until I get the truck unloaded. Then I’m going to undo everything except your corset and boots. I never should have let you talk me into leaving those keys home. You need a chance to relax.”
Well, I certainly ‘needed’ it. My muscles were aching, especially in my shoulders, but the ache just added to my arousal. Though I needed to relax, I didn’t want to, at least not physically, but I did relax mentally. I had achieved what I wanted, though time would tell if I had made a big mistake. ‘Be careful what you ask for,’ indeed.
It took Nick three or four trips to get the things in from the truck. We hadn’t really expected the rain, so I had packed picnic things and even a boombox in case we wanted to go sit by the lake at some point. I hadn’t packed many clothes, though. Only enough to avoid making Nick suspicious. By the time he got the coolers in and the food in the cabin’s small refrigerator, Nick was dripping wet. I wasn’t much better, though my moisture was a lot more localized.
He looked at me and said, “Are you okay?”
I nodded, grunting as affirmative a sound as I could.
“Okay. I’ll let you loose after I put on some dry clothes,” he said, turning to the bedroom.
When he came out, he had on sweats that looked wonderfully comfortable, and soft moccasins I had gotten him for Christmas. He went immediately to the goody bag and dug out the color-coded keys.
However, the first one he tried in the matching color-coded lock didn’t even go in, and while another key in what looked like the appropriate lock slid in easily enough, it wouldn’t turn. Nick growled to himself and quickly tried several more keys, finally ignoring the color code and just shoving keys in locks, hoping one would turn.
When he had tried just about every combination, he looked at me with worry in his eyes, and apology. He saw an expression of satisfaction on my face, apparent despite the gag that distorted my cheeks.
“You did something to the locks,” he declared.
“You switched the colors around, or did you just get a whole new set of locks?”
I nodded, then nodded again as he identified what I had really done. The real keys for these locks were what I had hidden in our bathroom just before we left. Nick, with his passion for carefulness, might have tested the keys and locks just before we left, so I could only make the switch at the last second.
The one thing that wasn’t locked on me was the center piece to the ring gag. Nick quickly pulled this free, not that it helped much.
“Why did you do this?” he asked. Like I could answer.
“It’s a good thing the parts that are actually against your skin are mostly leather. I’ll have you out of those chains in a few minutes.”
Oh, no! I hadn’t figured on him just destroying a couple of hundred dollars worth of restraints. I shook my head frantically, a ‘no’ coming out as, “Ohhh,” through the ring gag.
“Look, baby, I can’t leave you bound this severely for the whole damn weekend!” he said.
This time I nodded, trying to make a lispy, “Ethhh” into a recognizable ‘yes’.
“No way,” he insisted. “The only compromise I’ll offer is that we turn around and head back right now.”
“Ohhh,” I tried again, shaking my head. Just then a flash of lightning lit the room, with the crack of thunder so close on its heels that I wondered if the cabin had been struck. Nick must have wondered the same, because he immediately stood and walked through the small building. We must have been okay, but the storm got worse even in the few minutes he was gone. Just as he returned, the lights went out.
“Damn,” he muttered, going for our flashlights. It wasn’t all that uncommon to lose power in a storm up there. The loss of lights was a minor problem, really, though if the power stayed out for very long, the refrigerated food would go bad.
Nick set up a lantern and looked again at my contorted form lying on the thick rug in front of the fireplace. “What am I going to do with you?” he asked, more to himself than to me. Which made sense. Duh!
“Truly, hon, I should cut those things off,” he said, squatting down to caress my hair.
I shook my head again, then tried to squirm to where I could nuzzle him. I didn’t get very far, but he got the idea anyway. Reaching down to where my exposed fanny offered a somewhat constricted path to my naughty bits, he checked to find my juices flowing so freely they had left a spreading damp spot on the rug.
“God, you are so hot!” he said, becoming visibly aroused himself. He didn’t really understand my strange desires, but some element of the converse interest lived within him and he enjoyed my helplessness even as it worried him.
“I’m not going to be able to get at you, though,” he groaned. “Your plan didn’t take that into account.”
In response, I stuck my tongue through the ring gag and licked my lips.
“So that’s why the ball gag was missing from the bag,” he said, a visible pulse showing his interest in my alternative. I nodded happily as I stuck my tongue out at him.
He laughed and picked me up from the floor, carrying me into the bedroom. We had discovered on a previous visit that the bed was at exactly the right height to provide interesting opportunities and Nick carefully positioned me so that my one accessible orifice was available at the edge of the bed. While he quickly stripped, I squirmed a little further forward so that I could get as much of him as possible. In seconds I was tickling the bottom of his rampant manhood with my tongue, straining to reach more as he teased me by standing just out of reach. I tried to squirm forward some more, but he stopped me.
“Take it easy, baby, I don’t want you to fall off,” he said, but he stood closer so that I could take him through the opening in the gag. Or, it would probably be better to say that he took me. With the collar, and with my shoulders so constrained, and my back arched, I could only move my head a tiny amount. Nick took care of most of the movement, sliding in and out through my glistening lips.
I guess he was excited. At some point in there he forgot to worry about me and just took advantage of my willing service. I guess my true helplessness, not even releasable by him, must have aroused him more than he wanted to admit because he seemed bigger, and harder, and hotter than ever before. And in a few minutes, his enthusiasm was driving him deeper into my throat than ever before. I learned one thing about the ring gag that night. Even if my throat spasmed, my jaw couldn’t move and so it wasn’t very obvious. At least, not to a highly-aroused lover. It wasn’t until my lips were pressing into his short and curlies that Nick realized how far he had been pushing into me.
He’s a truly considerate lover, never wanting to hurt me, and I could see his worry (well, sort off, his face was just at the edge of my vision as I looked up), but at the same time the sense of power sent him over the edge. At least I wouldn’t have to worry about starving in the time until I finally got out of my bonds, even if I were constrained to a liquid diet.
Though I might have to worry about dehydration. Despite the helping of protein I had just received, I felt as thirsty as a month in the desert. Or maybe it was because I was flooding out so much of my own moisture, but as soon as Nick withdrew, I tried to grunt some sort of message about being thirsty.
I don’t know if he understood my words, or just understood, but Nick gently caressed my hair and then went out of the bedroom. In a moment, he was back with two glasses of wine. When he tried to pour some into my mouth, though, it wouldn’t work so he rolled me on my back despite my arched position. That didn’t really work very well either, with my back so bowed, so he finally lifted me to my knees, steadying me with one hand while he offered the wine to my lips with the other.
It was strange to be more or less upright, with my knees resting on the soft bed yet every muscle straining in my taut bondage. Nicky poured small swallows of wine into my open mouth, allowing me to swallow, then breathe, before pouring in a bit more. And then a bit more. The wine in the first glass vanished and Nick offered me his as well. I don’t think I’ve ever had better tasting wine than whatever we had that night. In fact, even other bottles of the same vintage are not nearly as good as the wine I had when I was so tightly bound, with no near-term relief in sight, totally helpless, totally alive, every muscle screaming its need, its living energy into my mind.
When I had finished the second glass of wine, Nick lowered me gently to the bed, this time on my back. It was a bit more stringent since my legs pulled harder at the chain that led from my waist, and my crossed arms bore the weight of my shoulders. But in some ways it was a relief, too. Any change in position at least changed the sensations, which can seem like a wonderful release.
Lying on my back had another effect as well. Though my knees were constrained virtually to touch, there was still enough room for an inquisitive scout to explore the source of the scent I was flooding into the room. I couldn’t really lift my head well enough to see what was happening but I could soon tell what was happening.
Nick’s talented fingers were tracking the line of fluid from the damp spot on my skirt to the source. A moment’s fumbling and the wrap skirt was untied and evaporation rapidly added to the coolness of the room. I shivered, but it wasn’t really from the cold.
Now Nick’s fingers were growing bolder, exploring their options in the available space as much as they examined the so-familiar contours. Apparently their options were sufficient, because they quickly changed from examining the flow to stimulating it.
I was certainly ready, and more than ready. The first touch was gentle, teasing, almost tickling, but it soon became firm enough to provide the sensations I needed even more than release from my bondage. I arched even further, heedless of the pressure on my arms, wanting more than anything a greater pressure on my sex.
Nick provided it, fingers dipping into the moisture to spread it around and lubricate a firm massage that never pulled, only caressed. He probably should have put something back in the ring gag, because the sounds I was making were not muffled at all by the open hole in my mouth. Even the scream that challenged the continuing thunder for dominance in noise level didn’t slow down the remorseless, wonderful dance of Nick’s fingers. I don’t know how long I can hold my breath, but whatever the time, it was not enough. I couldn’t breathe in the tight corset and my awkward position well enough to keep up with the demands for oxygen my straining, tiny thrashes created, and I heard first a pounding in my ears that drowned out the thunder, then nothing.
When I came to, the room was dark. I was on my side, which worked well enough all things considered, with a quilt thrown over me to keep me warm. The other room showed that the power was back on, and I heard the outside door open even as I realized the thunder had stopped.
“Hey, babe, you okay?” Nick called.
I grunted languidly. I suppose I would have to accept okay, since that’s what Nick offered. Words like terrific came to my mind, but I’d have to explain that later.
“I checked to make sure the trail is clear, and packed the truck. We’re still going home right away,” he said as he walked into the bedroom. But he smiled and said, “After all, I couldn’t let you think you can get away with this sort of thing. Instead of a three-day weekend of, um, interesting pastimes, you get about twelve hours. I hope you think about that the next time you plan something crazy like this.”
I nodded, grinning as best I could around the ring gag. Next time, I’d have to think up something even better.
If you've enjoyed this story, please write to the author and let them know - they may write more!