When you live in a small city life can be pretty boring. Small cities are basically conservative by nature and when you work for the local bank, like I do, you pretty much need to give the appearance of conforming to the norm. Word gets around much too easily to be seen behaving poorly in public or have loose rumors about you. About the only time anybody in this town has fun is once a year when the NASCAR race comes to the nearby track. Around here that’s a bigger party than St. Patrick’s Day.
I went to college in a large city at a University that’s nearly a quarter the size of this entire city. I got exposed to a lot of things that you just can’t find here and certainly don’t ask about. One of the things I discovered in college was bondage. I love the role-play of being tied up and taken or forced to do things. I even got to the point where I would order toys and DVDs over the internet.
By working while going to school I was able to afford an apartment with just one other girl my junior and senior years. By the end of my Junior year I was putting “plant hooks” in the ceiling of my room and had some other hooks and things scattered about. I took up self-bondage out of desperation. I’m told I’m a good looking girl, I mean I stand about 5’8” bare foot and have a 36 C/D - 24 -34 figure with straight dark hair and emerald green eyes. I went on a lot of dates but had trouble finding anybody I could trust enough who was interested in bondage. My apartmentmate did find me tied up in self-bondage during our senior year, but that’s a whole other story.
Dad passed away while I was in school and after graduation I moved back here to take care of Mom. She really lost interest in life after Dad passed and she passed away after I had been home for about a year. As the only child I got everything including the house. Fortunately I had a pretty good job at the bank and was able to afford the house. The folks in the hardware store got pretty used to seeing me come in and buy things. My purchases of rope, hooks, chains, snap-rings and the like blended in with my purchases of weed killer, plywood and paint. I doubt they had any idea what some of my purchases were being used for. I had turned half the attic into my own little self-torture chamber. I loved being up there in the summertime when it was so hot you’d start to sweat as soon as you walked in. Of course my ice cube release mechanisms had to get replaced by more advanced methods.
Over the next few years the bank I work for got bought, bought again and bought a third time. I had worked my way up and after each buyout I had advanced some more. I was now Vice-President and Regional Director of Customer Service. It’s a great job but even a hint of gossip or scandal would get me fired in 30 seconds.
I was stuck in this prison of conservativeness. I had a few discrete affairs but they were vanilla and short lived. I tried internet dating but that was a bust. The one guy in a neighboring town that I had a good bondage weekend with turned out to be married. I did what I could to keep my perversity alive. I had all my body hair lasered off from the neck down. I actually had my nipples and clit pierced so they would be ready for some future master. My dungeon attic grew larger and more sophisticated.
At one point I considered taking a weeks vacation and going to another city and having a professional dungeon rent me out as a sub. When I contacted a couple dungeons about it I was told there could be no sex as it would be illegal. I even contacted a couple of the brothels in Nevada about working as a submissive hooker for a week or two but they said no. I had years of frustration built up inside me. I wanted to be tied up, whipped and fucked hard Damn It! I wanted a friggin bondage gangbang worth of sex. I wanted to be used and abused so hard it would last me for another three or four years!
By the summer of my 28th year my need for a good bondage fuck had become nearly an obsession. My frustration was seeping into my daily personality and I knew I had to do something. About the time the annual talk about the race started I had a thought, which turned into an idea, which turned into a fantasy, which turned into a plan.
The day before the race I walked into the office in my navy blue pinstripe suit. I love this suit. When the jacket is buttoned it shows off my figure and the kick slit in the skirt shows off my legs nicely. The suit really makes me look good but at the same time it projects this sort of force field of power. When I wear it, usually the only guys who approach me either jerks who want to prove they are more powerful than me or wimps who want me to stand on their chest in steel tipped stilettos.
I had scheduled the next week off and not made any plans so at the end of today I would be free. The day went smoothly and I cleared my desk in preparation for my week off. I stayed late cleaning up a few last details and sending out emails. Almost everyone had left when I walked into the Ladies Room with my briefcase. I walked into a stall and shut the door. I stripped off my suit and opened my briefcase. I took off my everyday bra removed the subtle studs from my nipples and put them in my briefcase. I took out two steel rings and put them through the holes in my nipples and clipped them shut. Then I put on a pink sheer lace bra that did little but looked pretty. I stripped off my pantyhose and panties. I replaced the stud through my clit with another steel ring and clipped that shut. Then I put on a matching pink sheer thong and nude thigh high stockings. I got dressed in my suit again, closed my briefcase and left the building.
It was already getting dark and well into Happy Hour so I headed across town to the area where the motels nearest the race track were. I knew that part of town would be crawling with race fans freshly back from the time trials that were held that day. I drove a little further out of town and started checking out the parking lots of some of the seedier bars. I found one bar on the edge of town that had four RVs parked in it. The parking lot stretched behind the bar building so I drove into the lot. I checked out the license plates on each RV and noted that they were all from out of state and each from a different state. I looked at the other license plates as well to see how many cars were from those four states. Fortunately, most of the other license plates seemed to be from this state. The lot itself was nearly perfect. It stretched behind the building, with woods behind it and an auto repair place to the left and sharing the lot. To the right of the lot was an old fenced in warehouse complex that had been empty for a couple of years. There was a street light in the front of the lot but not much light near the back. As the lot was pretty full I drove to nearly the back end of the lot and parked my car on the side adjoining the repair shop lot.
I spent the next twenty minutes sitting in my car shaking and trying to decide whether or not I was both desperate enough and dumb enough to do what I was thinking about. I kept telling myself I could get killed and countering that with the fact that my plan probably wouldn’t work anyway. I finally told myself I could always back out once I was inside and got out of the car. I put my money and license in my pocket and locked my purse in the trunk. Putting the keys in my other jacket pocket, I headed for the building.
I walked into the front door of the bar and my senses were assaulted by the smell of smoke and stale beer and the sounds of loud Southern Rock. I looked for the restrooms which luckily were right inside the front door. I slid into the “Chicks” room and took a stall. Once in the stall I rolled the waistband of my skirt so my skirt became nearly three inches shorter. I unbuttoned my jacket except for one button and then unbuttoned my blouse down to my bust line. I looked at myself in the mirror and decided I looked hot enough. I walked out into the bar praying there was nobody in here who would recognize me.
I sat down along the short end of the bar and ordered a drink. I gulped it down to steady my nerves and ordered another. With a few sips gone from the second drink I started to survey the room looking for the owners of the RVs. The place was decorated with NASCAR memorabilia including some car body parts on the walls. I quickly picked out a party of two redneck couples as belonging to one of the RVs based on the T-shirt one of the guys was wearing. I pegged a second RV as belonging to a group of three guys wearing NASCAR hats and shirts who probably weighed over 300 pounds apiece. No way that that load was going to fit in a sedan. I figured a third RV belonged to a group of five guys sitting in a round, corner booth about 15 feet away from me. One of them was wearing a ball cap from a state university that matched one of the RVs’ license plates.
I started trying to subtly check out the guys in the booth. They all seemed to be late 20s to early 30s. I didn’t see wedding bands on the three of them I could clearly see from where I was sitting but that was no guarantee of anything. The ones I could see all seemed pretty clean and clean cut.
As I was finishing my second drink some jerk sat on the bar stool next to me and started trying to hit on me. The way I was dressed I should have expected it but he was just plain annoying. I ordered a third drink and all but had to fight to keep him from paying for it. It suddenly dawned on me that he was my excuse and I asked the bartender for a pitcher of draft for “my friends”. That seemed to shut down the little pest. When the pitcher came I took a deep breath and got up off the barstool.
I picked up the pitcher and walked over to the corner booth. I excused myself and quietly asked if they could help me out. I told them I just came in here for a couple of drinks after a hard week but the guy next to me at the bar was being a jerk. I asked if I could sit with them for a little bit to discourage him and held out the pitcher saying I was bearing gifts.
The whole table was pretty much eyeing me up and down while I was talking. They unanimously welcomed me and compacted themselves around the bench so I could sit down. I sat down and we all introduced ourselves and I asked them to go on with their conversation.
It turned out they had all driven down here together in an RV and were going to watch the race tomorrow and then go fishing for a week. They all had high stress professional jobs and this had become something of an annual tradition for them. Apparently they were all single and this was some sort of annual college reunion for them. We made small talk and became friendly pretty quickly. We flirted a bit and traded innuendos and were actually having a pretty good time.
They asked me what I was doing in a dive like this and I told them I had just started vacation and had pulled in here on a whim after a really bad week. I said I had never been in here before and didn’t know what it was like. They asked if I was here on vacation for the race and I said I was a local and was going to spend my week alone working around my house with no appointments and no commitments. They seemed shocked I wasn’t going to the race. I explained to them that I had never been to the race and that to us locals the race was just a week of bad traffic and a chance to take in some money from tourists. Besides, I continued, I’m a little afraid of going to the race. I have this really weird fantasy about the race. Whenever I think about it I get kind of turned on but really, really scared.
Of course they took the bait and pressed me about the fantasy. I declined and said it was too personal and I’d be embarrassed to tell them. Of course that just got them even more interested and determined to hear it. I kept stalling them while I finished my third drink and started a new one. The more I avoided telling them my fantasy the more determined they were to hear it. I finally acted like I broke down and said “What the hell, I’m never going to see you guys again, what can it hurt.”
I leaned towards them and lowered my voice and started to reel them in. “I have this fantasy where it’s race weekend and on Friday night I stop at a bar on my way home from work. I have a few drinks and stay for a couple of hours talking to people and dancing. By the time I leave its dark and my car is parked in the back of the lot out of sight of the highway and everything else. As I’m walking to my Eclipse a couple of guys grab me from behind. One has a hand over my mouth so I can’t scream. An RV pulls up next to us and I’m wrestled inside with the help of more guys. I’m quickly tied up, gagged and blindfolded with whatever is at hand. They lock me in a small closet of some kind. I can barely hear the guys cheering and laughing outside in the RV.
The RV takes off and drives for awhile and makes two or three stops. At one of the stops I hear the clinking of bottles like booze is being brought in. The RV drives for what feels like another 20 minutes or so and comes to a stop. I’m pulled out of the closet and I can hear men’s voices. A man’s voice tells me the RV is parked miles from anywhere and if I scream no one will hear it and all I’ll do is piss them off. I’m told if I do what I’m told to do I won’t be hurt too badly and I’ll live through this.
My hands and legs are untied and I hear the man’s voice say “Strip”. When I shake my head a punch drives into my stomach dropping me to my knees. A kick in my ass sends me sprawling on the floor. I’m pulled back up to my feet and another man’s voice says “Now strip or we start getting rough”. With trembling hands I unbutton my suit’s jacket and let it fall to the floor. Male voices start telling me what garment to remove and soon I’m standing nude. I’m told to put my hands behind my head and turn slowly until I’m told to stop. Mid way through my third rotation my wrists are grabbed and pulled down behind me. I feel something being wrapped around each one and then pulled tight.
My wrists are pulled together behind my back and I hear a click. The hands holding my wrists are released and I realize my wrists are somehow cuffed behind my back. A hand grabs my hair and I feel things being wrapped around my ankles and then tightened. I kick my feet and struggle until a hand slaps my tits hard. I hear two more clicks and my ankles are released. My hair is yanked up and something is wrapped around my neck and fastened in place. I feel something being fastened to the front of the band around my neck. My neck is yanked forward and a male voice tells me “You are our sex toy for the weekend. If you do what you’re told without any problems you’ll be released at your car Sunday.”
Apparently one of the stops the RV made was at an Adult Store. In addition to the cuffs and the collar around my neck, they’ve also picked up an assortment of whips, clamps and toys they plan to use on me.
That night I’m used repeatedly by all the men. They basically pour booze down my throat and tell me they’re going to keep me drunk so I can’t testify against them. They use me every way they can think of singly and in multiples. They make me beg them to do perverse things to me and rough me up or torture me if I don’t comply. I eventually figure out there are six of them. When they are done with me that night I’m gagged and chained to a bed. The RV starts up again and drives. The next day I’m lying chained to the bed in an RV that’s parked in the infield of a race. I’m gagged so while thousands of people all around me are watching the race, partying and completely unaware, I’m being used for sex whenever any of my captors feels like it. My captors start talking about inviting other people in to use me and I cringe when I think how many thousands are attending the race. Later they tell me they’re going to add up the numbers of the first three cars across the finish line in the race and then whip me that many times before they dump me off.”
By the time I finish telling my fantasy all the guys’ mouths are open. When I’m done, several cigarettes are lit and drinks are chugged. I’m pretty sure there are five hard cocks under the table. I knew there was one wet pussy under there.
After a few seconds of awkward silence one of the guys finally asks “But you wouldn’t really want that to happen would you?”
I act like I’m choking on my drink and say, “Hell no. Christ with all the maniacs and diseases around, I’d have to trust the guys first off. But I couldn’t know them too well because there would have to be that edge of fear over what they might do to me. Basically they’d have to be strangers because I could never look them in the face again. If I could figure out how to do all that and keep me safe and it might be a hell of a weekend.”
One of the guys interjected that he had thought he was bad for fantasizing about fucking the race’s Trophy Girls and the table broke into laughter. The conversation turned to the trophy girls and then back to racing and other things. After a couple more drinks I said I didn’t realize it was so late and that I was going to the Ladies Room and when I came back I was going to have to leave.
While I was in the Ladies Room I took my time. I wanted to get myself off right there but didn’t because I was afraid half the bar would hear it. I also wanted to give the guys time to talk. I went back to the table after about 10 minutes to say my goodbyes. When I got back to the table I was disappointed to see only two of the guys were there. They said one of the others had gone outside to make a business phone call and the other two were in the Men’s Room. They told me the three absent guys had all said to say goodbye to me if I came back first. I told the two guys present that I really couldn’t wait for the others and leaned over the table to kiss their cheeks. I tried to make sure they each got a good look inside my blouse just for fun. I said my goodbyes again and walked out of the bar.
As I rounded the corner of the building to go to my car I was wishing I had stopped drinking one drink earlier. I realized I was tipsy and debated going back inside and calling a cab. Like most drunks, I decided I was sober enough and concentrated on getting to my car. I was disappointed my plan hadn’t worked. I couldn’t believe that not one of them had picked up on my fantasy. No thinly veiled invitation to join them for the race. Not even any comments about “making your fantasy come true” or “helping you work through your fear”. Hell, I would have brought my own rope! Nothing, it’s like they weren’t interested. Were they celibate? Gay? Something about the notion of a gay NASCAR fan made me chuckle. I had this vision of a big pot bellied “good old boy” in a rebel cap with a flaming gay voice. Ah Hell, maybe I just oversold it and scared them off.
I started thinking about what I was going to do to myself when I got home as a backup plan. I figured I could put a radio on a timer so it would just turn on just for the local radio station’s coverage of the race and play that through my earbuds. It would kind of have the atmosphere of the race and I wouldn’t be able to hear much the rest of the time. I could plug my release mechanism into a timer and plug that into another timer so I would be trapped for nearly 48 hours. It shouldn’t be too hard to rig up something to drip booze into a hose connected to my penis gag with the breathing hole. If I could rig it to drip about an ounce or a little more in an hour, it should keep me buzzed. If I put interval timers on my fucking machine and buttplug, it would be like being fucked over and over for two days. Of course there wouldn’t be any of the manhandling or the physical abuse I had hoped for.
I started wondering if I could rig up some kind of a whipping machine, I was about six spaces from my car when I walked past an extra long white van with ladders on the top and a local contractor’s name on the side. I barely noticed it except for having to go out of my way to get around the back end of it. I was deep in thought and getting hornier over my plans for home. I had gone a step or two beyond the van when suddenly a hand clamped over my mouth and an arm wrapped itself around me pinning my arms to my waist. As I started to struggle I heard a large vehicle driving up behind me...
story continues in Nascar Weekend 2