A Wild Walk bondage story | rope, chains, bound, gag, cuffs

It was indeed a glorious day. Nothing could have been more perfect. I loved that almost weekly trek and especially under conditions where the Sun, shining out of a clear blue sky, painted ever-moving patches of dappled brightness on the forest floor under that high canopy. Birds sang their hymn to such natural graces and squirrels scampered up and down the trunks and along the branches and chattered their appreciation that Man, that desecrator, seldom if ever penetrated this far into their domain.

Then I had a secret reason for enjoyment even if I would not admit it to myself. There was the hope that I might bump into HIM again? Fate had decreed that Last week I would be unable to make the trip but now, with the long weekend Holiday ahead... who could know... I sat on a fallen tree-trunk relishing the Sandwiches which my backpack had disgorged and revelled in the panoramic view from that, my favourite, resting place.

I had followed that routine almost faithfully for many weeks. That last time when I had returned from my reveries to consciousness, I had found the most arresting-looking man almost upon me but coming from the direction to which I had been walking. What is it about such encounters? I willed him to stop and join me on my log. He did that very thing after first requesting my permission. He accepted the offer of one of my sandwiches after I had assured him that I always packed too many. For some reason we parted without even exchanging names! Just to rub it in the following weekend was rendered a washout! So it was that, with a long weekend ahead, I sat on that log in my favourite lookout spot, unpacking sandwiches and the flask and... er... well... dreaming... in hope.

I know not how long I had been sitting there before my empty stomach sounded A reminder and I returned to the Land of Reality. To my left, the direction from which I had just come, there was a movement through a patch of sunlight. Just for a fleeting moment my hopes rose but then... he had come from the other direction? Swiftly I turned to look that way but there was nothing.

Returning to the left I was startled, to say the least, to discern a naked woman walking toward me. That it was but a trick of the patchy and ever-moving sunlight was a natural conclusion until I realised that she was not alone. A short distance behind her came a second woman equally bare and then, even as my senses began to reel, there materialised a third. All three walked in the same dejected manner with heads bent, eyes fixed on the ground and with their hands clasped behind their backs. In total silence. Such may have walked a line of Dickensian sober judges.

Sober judges? Bare footed and bare breasted, out there miles from anywhere or anyone? But even as I pondered this strange phenomenon several observations burst on me almost simultaneously as the lead girl left the shadow of the canopy and stepped out into the clear sunshine of my eyrie. As if in response to the sudden light she momentarily lifted her head and, during that brief glimpse, I became confident that she was gagged. There was also something around her neck but she dropped her gaze again and I could not be sure.

The second girl passed out into the full light and, while I could not determine the matter of a gag, the sun showed clearly that a rope of some sort was swinging between the necks of these two girls. CAPTIVES? Inevitably I waited for the third girl and then there could not be any doubt. All three were gagged and roped together at the neck! The fact that all three held their hands behind could only mean now that they were also bound.

My gaze went down to their feet and quite definitely something seemed tied between each girl's ankles thus hobbling them; no wonder they all walked with their eyes constantly on the ground?

It was when I looked up again that I became aware of a fourth woman emerging into the sunshine. The contrast was immediate; she was neither naked nor unshod and the long staff she carried in both hands indicated that she was in charge of the party. She had very-long hair, which was braided neatly and hung over her left shoulder while her prisoners were nothing if not unkempt. She wore a top rather crudely constructed from what appeared to be animal skins - probably rabbit – which left her right breast barely decent. Below she wore either an ill-fitting wrap-around skirt or simply skins which were suspended from a belt around her waist. That belt also supported a fur-scabbard from the top of which protruded what I assumed to be a knife. A bag of obscure form was hung over one shoulder. Her feet were protected by moccasins also made from animal skins.

While I sat taking in this extraordinary procession, which I assumed was some kind of student prank, the sunlight caught the end of the keeper's staff and reflected off a very business-like knife blade. That was not a staff at all; it was a very practical spear and suddenly my stomach melted within me.

I have always known that I would not fight against an attacker armed with a gun but even more so did a knife intimidate me. That I had briefly glimpsed hanging from her belt, and thought to be a knife, was at least sheathed but the spear with its naked tip instantly aroused all my unreasonable fears; my stomach sank like a stone and my feet refused to obey an order to flee.

The coffle of naked bound women came steadily on until, when level with my seat on the usual log, the armed "warder" barked out a short order and they came to a shambling stop. She lowered the point of her spear, swung it to cover me and approached... she moved on her toes like any dancer. Looking fiercely authoritative she gave another of her barked commands which meant nothing whatever to me. She took the extra step and presented her point to my throat but we remained staring at each other. Clearly she was giving a command while I sat rigid with fear.

For what seemed like minutes we kept these farcical positions until she couched her spear under her left arm but kept that point pressed against my breast. With her right hand she waved me imperiously to the ground. Now there was no doubt and I Slid slowly to my knees. She stepped around me and, with a surprisingly powerful shove, forced me flat on my face.

She lay the spear across the back of my neck, knelt one knee on it, dragged my unresisting hands behind my back and proceeded to bind them with what felt like a strip of leather. Fear began to be replaced by resentment. It was like a scene from a dreadful Hollywood movie - tenth grade - wherein stone-age men and women clad in tattered skins grunted at each other. But wait a minute ... did Stone-Age dwellers have steel-like knives or spear points?

She simply could NOT walk up to me in broad daylight, force me down and tie me up? The three captives in her coffle made no attempt to restrain her or to help me. True they were bound hand and foot even if that binding were not all that effective. But I had to admit that being tied together would rather crimp their style against an armed and determined foe such as confronted us here.

My fear however was my undoing. Even while I was considering the above, she had turned her attention to hobbling my ankles with what I later saw was a short rope made by plaiting together strips of leather. I reared up meaning at last to fight back but she seized my hair and jerked my head back none too gently. Obligingly I opened my mouth to signify disapproval and she slipped a large water-smoothed pebble into it and bound another of her leather ropes around my head which, though of limited value perhaps as a gag, most certainly prevented me from ejecting it again.

The speed at which she worked had reduced me to helpless captivity in less time than it takes to write about it. She sat astride my back while yet another rope was looped around my neck and I realised that I was to be added to her coffle. That realisation once again paralysed me and, on the point of that spear, I allowed her to haul me to my feet and tie me to the end of her line of prisoners.

Another of her barked commands and the three naked prisoners stepped off so producing a jerk on my neck that all but brought me to the ground. The girl in front of me gave a cough of disapproval and I began to learn why all three so assiduously kept their gaze on their feet. I at least had the advantage of being shod but for them the forest floor could not have offered any comfort. The main problem, as I soon discovered, was that having one's hands bound behind made tricky the matter of balance and it was necessary to choose one's footing with care.

At first I attempted to wriggle my hands from the rope that bound them but this required attention that was otherwise required at my feet. As I staggered out of line to be brought up short by the coffle rope so the girl ahead of me gurgled objections while the girl behind jabbed at my derriere with the point of that damned spear. After a repeat she changed tactics and used the other end of the spear to jab at my anus. Any one who has felt the effectiveness of such a tactic in persuading a wrestling opponent to release a hold will know why I decided to leave escape to later.

How long we walked in single file through the dappled early afternoon sunshine I do not know because my mind was taken up by more immediate matters. Was it indeed possible that, clad in twentieth-century clothing, I was being driven through woods by a primeval female warrior and attached to three naked, and presumably, equally primeval captives at the point of a spear? Vaguely my mind toyed with the oft-seen tales of television that burbled about time-travel, time warps, the weird effects of sudden lightning strikes or simply about space-travellers landing on backwards worlds.

None of it was possible but that steady march through the trees in absolute and frightening silence was taking its toll. Of course, if these were primitive people, then I could not understand anything that was said... apart from the fact of that all four prisoners were gagged.

My thoughts turned to the twentieth-century man I had hoped to meet. His appearance would not only have assured me of my sanity but would surely have put an end to the utter insanity of all this. Another sharp prod to my anus brought me back to reality with such a jump that I lost my balance, received a violent tug on the coffle rope and went down. Our guard gave an angry exclamation and charged in with levelled spear and so scattered my wits once again.

She rammed the spear into the ground while she hauled me back on to my feet and then pantomimed her instruction to proceed which she reinforced with a bad-tempered stamp of her right foot. Whatever her purpose she now had me completely under control - I was scared as I have never been scared.

About two hundred yards further on we broke out of the trees into a fair-sized clearing. Her commanding bark brought the coffle once more to a halt and some vigorous action with that spear caused the three girls to kneel and then subside into resting positions either face down or on their side - probably because they had no wish to lie on their arms. Partly because I failed to understand but largely because of my growing bloody-minded mutiny I remained standing but, sad to say, a steady glare over the point of that weapon rapidly brought a cave-in.

Face down I watched her untie my coffle rope from the girl in front of me. Any thought of a break for freedom seemed a bit futile when I was hobbled while she was completely free and on her feet? And she had that spear! Seconds later I was to regret the lack of courage as she threaded the rope through my hobble, brought it back between my hands and hauled me into a hogtie. Not a very stringent hogtie it is true but it did lengthen the odds and I got the message that she considered me to be trouble.

As though to emphasise my demolition, she turned her back on me and it was then that I saw she was carrying my backpack that I thought had been abandoned with my sandwiches. Cross-legged on the open ground between the two groups of captives she then proceeded to riffle through my belongings. Now, if she was seriously trying to annoy me, if she wanted to raise my ire then most certainly with that act she succeeded.

Attention was no longer needed for me to walk and so I was able to set my full attention to the matter of freeing my hands which were hidden from her as I lay facing. In my teen years I had learned the stage trick of seeming to pass one rope through another where two people had their wrists tied together with the two ropes interlinked. I thought that the same condition applied to this very loose hogtie. All that was necessary was to gain enough slack to pass the hogtie rope through one of the ankle bindings and then over the foot. I rolled a little so as to bring some weight on to my feet, arched my back and there was the slack. However it is one thing to pass a rope through another while working with both hands and in full view but, as I discovered, the world is utterly different when the hands are behind your back. For one thing everything seems to work backwards. I suffered what must have been at least ten minutes of total frustration as I tried to squeeze the doubled end of the hogtie through one of the ankle bindings while trying not to move my body too much.

But, at least, my guardian's interest in my pack kept her eyes off me and eventually I was able to straighten my legs. It was at that point that I realised I lacked a plan. The spear figured largely in my mind and I felt that I must get my hands on it. I rolled and came to my feet in one smooth action, which feat afforded me great satisfaction. I leaped but I had forgotten that, although free from the hogtie, my feet were still hobbled and I began a dive into the ground. The girl was also alerted and started for her spear.

Then it was that disappointment, frustration and fear combined to sting me into desperate action. I wound up and launched into a mighty leap that carried me to land with one foot on the spear's haft. Helplessly I toppled forward but the girl let out a scream of pain for I had trapped her fingers under the spear. Then Fortune turned her smile upon me; as I lurched forward so my head struck her just behind her right ear. I saw those proverbial stars as ringing pains shot through my head. When I forced myself to take notice the girl was stretched unconscious.

Her knife was but inches from me and, within seconds, I was free. The spear I hurled into the undergrowth and with the cord I had cut from my ankles I bound her Thumbs tightly together behind her back. Then I started to run for the trees.

I had made it about halfway to cover when I heard a strange whoosh-whoosh-whoosh noise. It seemed vaguely familiar but that was definitely not the time for Reminiscing and I kept going as I had seldom run before. Then something hit me hard at the back of my knees, something that wrapped itself tightly around my legs and ended with a clatter as once again I dived onto my long-suffering nose.

That nose sent frantic messages of pain to which my eyes responded with a copious flow of tears... in short, I was temporarily blinded. I had landed flat - fair and square - and from a full run that meant my lungs were sending anguished messages of a need for air. As I lay there the only struggle of which I was capable was to draw breath and then, without warning, the Sun went out. A bag had been drawn over my head. Next a heavy knee descended on my back and held me down while handcuffs were fitted first to my wrists and then to my ankles. That thing wrapped around my knees was unwound and I remembered... the whoosh-whoosh noise had reminded me of Crocodile Dundee making his bush telephone call and, in its turn, that called up a memory of a hunting weapon still used I believe in South America - a Bolas ! Whoever these people might be... they don't give a girl a chance!

Now, if someone were trying to confuse me I had to admit that they were doing a damn fine job. It may be that warrior tribes of yore clothed themselves in rabbit skins, carried spears and captured any stray damsels they happened to encounter. But I was prepared to gamble large sums that, while those same old-timers may have possessed the secrets of iron or steel with which to tip their spears they did not have even the slightest acquaintance with handcuffs ?

Somebody had to be mounting an elaborate hoax unless I was truly going....? Humm! But who the devil...? And out here in the back of beyond...? There remained one thing of which I was certain... restrained hand and foot in steel cuffs, it was pointless to struggle or to make plans for escape even had I not been deprived of the gift of sight. This time I was well and truly captured! But soon much of it became clear.

A male voice was chiding someone: "Yes, I say. You failed. You allowed a bound prisoner to escape. Hold out your hands." More clicking sounds led me to conclude that my one-time captor too was now clothed in handcuffs. Some small consolation that she had joined the club?

"No please. It wasn't my fault. The rope wasn't cut. Somehow she slipped out of a hogtie."

"Where's the spear?"

"She must have thrown it somewhere."

"Then find it and bring it here."

There was a short pause and then: "Here it is. She didn't throw it far. What are you going to... no please... it's so uncomfortable with the elbows pinned back like that."

"Remember you're now a slave. Don't talk so much. You were supposed to arrive with a coffle of four... and four I will have. Now ... open wide!"

I must record that I felt sorry for her. She hadn't really treated me badly and she must at that time have been nursing a considerable headache from my inadvertent head-butt. All I could do however was shrug and wonder in what manner I was to finish this journey through the woods.

I was not left for long in doubt. From much closer to hand came the man's voice: "Right. Now, on your way." Then I was seized around the middle, hoisted first to my feet and then over a shoulder - yes, I was to ride to wherever we were bound. I had walked through these woods many times but now I regretted my lack of adventure; if I had strayed from the straight and narrow paths of convenience I might have possessed some idea of that destination.

The mode of my progress was certainly undignified but, ignoring the unfamiliarity of being head-down, it gave time to think over the situation and the incidents that had led up to my present predicament. Even the most skeptical of readers surely acknowledges that, out in woodland miles from known habitation, the appearance of a totally naked woman must tend to distract a viewer? Now, make that three naturalised women, then bind them and coffle them and finally add a slave driver in the form of an armed woman who presents all the appearance of a savage warrior. Even without my dread of naked steel... would you not be put off balance? OK, you have skills in martial arts and would simply have taken away her spear and put the rope on her instead... but I have no knowledge whatever of kicking, punching nor even of dodging. Indeed I could comfort myself with having escaped, even with roping her hands behind but then... I ask you... a long-distance takedown with a BOLAS?

Suspicions I certainly entertained as to the identity of my final captor - and the captor of my primary captress (really this is getting far too involved) - but up to that time I had not even caught a glimpse of him. My recapitulation ended abruptly as I was dumped on to soft turf, though not unkindly so, and rolled on to my face. Some kind of heavy metal collar was locked around my neck and, still hooded, I felt him check the tightness of my feet and hand irons. Then I was alone.

There, without the presence of glaring eyes, barked commands, steel-tipped spears or steel-like knives hanging from belts of pelts my abject fears began to subside and my ire most definitely to start rising. In short I began to resent the cavalier treatment... if I could but rid myself of the cuffs. As well bay at the moon.

Perhaps that anger stopped my ears but I heard nothing of approaching steps. I froze as I felt hands at my throat. The tie about my neck was undone and, very gently, the hood was pulled away. I found myself looking into the face of she-who-carried-a-spear. The dam of anger burst and I pulled frantically at the cuffs ... to no avail, of course. The girl smiled, a trifle anxiously I thought, and laid a hand across my mouth: "Hush, hush. You're not in any danger. If danger lurked in the last hours 'twas for me, I think. You're something, really something. And look what you've earned for me." She held up both hands and I saw that a chain, about two feet long, swung between her wrists.

"What sort of madhouse have I landed in?"

"Yeah. I suppose that's a fair opinion. But I've got to get you sorted out and there will be more trouble if I stop to chat with you."

"What's happened to your bark?"

"It's in the cupboard with my spear. Come to think of it... it's no longer MY spear... all your work. I've been relegated to my former rank of slave. And it's only a week since I was promoted."

" I don't feel like saying sorry. You scared the shit out of me with that knife-end on a stick. Can't stand knives."

"That's something we couldn't have known. My turn to say sorry."

"Well... no harm done. I thought at first I'd been taken back through Time but there was a fair crop of boo-boos, you know. Suspicions turned to conviction when you cave dwellers started to sport handcuffs. And... er... speaking of cuffs... can we get these off now?"

"That I can't do." A broad grin curled her lips: "My life would be hell if I let you escape AGAIN. But... if you'll roll over I can ease things a bit."

"I think I was being kind when I said this was a madhouse."

modelstied presents more bondage:

"Oh, for heavens' sake do keep quiet." She fished in a bag that lay beside her and pulled out a ball gag. "He gave me this... if you keep on talking I shall be forced to use it."

"You know... I think I might... just might... get to like you. Well, anyway, until I'm free."

From the bag she produced a pair of cuffs with about fifteen inches of chain between them which she locked on to my ankles then rolled me over on to my face. Next from the bag came a length of small chain which she pushed under my belly button and I instinctively lifted out of her way. She snugged it around my waist and then came another set of handcuffs separated by about ten inches of chain; a soft click in the region of my belly-button told me that my wrists were to be in less stringent contact but still confined albeit in front.

"Ah!" She looked up: "The girls have arrived."

I recognised them immediately as those with whom I had shared the coffle. But now they were... well... dressed... in garments that one could have described as diaphanous except for the handcuffs - and then I noticed that an exact replica was worn by she-who-had-carried-the-spear. More than naked they carried a substantial pole over which was draped what appeared to be a mass of netting.

Did they ever let up? The pole was dumped beside me and the netting, unravelled, turned out to be a tube. With odds of four to one it was pointless to fight as they first transferred my hands to the cuffs on the waist chain and then slid the net tube up my body. The ends were tied off to the pole, the chain from my collar unlocked from a local tree and I was carried away like a hunting trophy. I became conscious of a growing feeling between my...?

Well, somebody seemed to be having fun and, at least, I was not getting hurt except in my feelings. I might have enjoyed the proceedings had I been privy to the fun instead of the unwilling victim. This was kidnapping, illegal imprisonment? I was detained against my will and technically assaulted. When I got rid of the irons... When? That was the operative word. What the devil could I do about it? I had no say whatever in the proceedings. That feeling kept on growing.

We passed through a small gate into an orchard - an apple orchard I reckoned – and then I was once again set down on the ground and the pole removed. The end of the net was untied and rolled down to my shoulders, which allowed the chain to be detached from my collar and replaced by another...? Then the net was removed entirely and the short cuffs removed from my ankles. Then all four departed.

On my feet I found myself free to explore the orchard but with an outsize feeling of frustration; for want of something to do I paced out the chain - about a hundred feet. I wandered but had constantly to backtrack along the chain as it wound in and out of the trees. Only one thing for me to do - I sighed! Steel-bound hand and foot, hands limited to my waist, feet hobbled, leashed like a pet dog I was, overall, as helpless as the day I was born. All I could do was wait... and dream of vengeance.

The sun was getting low when they came back for me. The long tether was removed and, on a leather dog leash, I was taken a hundred yards or more to a... rightly called a mansion. There, without giving me the slightest chance to escape the bondage, they stripped me and dressed me for dinner. In other words I wore exactly the same outfit as they were wearing except, of course, that in addition I was hobbled. Never doubt - my first appearance amongst them had sure made an impression? They went to the most elaborate precautions to ensure that they retained control.

Yet still they were not done. From somewhere they produced a pile of chiffon material and all five of us were fitted with face veils. "Getting more like a bloody Hollywood harem every minute."

"Oh do hush. You won't be able to eat dinner with that gag in your mouth."

"How in hell do you eat it with these things in front of your mouth?"

"With great difficulty," someone offered.

Another: "And some fortitude."

"But what the... why... surely you can...?"

"It's what the Master ordered. And we always obey."

"Master? This really is a madhouse."

"Oh, yes. But it's great fun."

"Then where do I come in? What's all this got to do with me?"

"The Master will tell you in his own time. Come on. If we're late we may go without dinner. Oh, we nearly forgot; you're to carry the ballgag," and they strapped it loosely under my chin.

About an hour later, while the four girls were clearing away and cleaning up, he turned to me: "Now, its time to sort you out. Meriel, isn't it?"

"How the hell do you know that? And anyway, I've just about had enough. MORE than enough! I demand you take these bloody chains off me and allow me to go home."

"Well now, you have your feet under MY table, constrained by MY hobble chain which is fixed to MY floor by MY clamp. Do you think you are in any position to make demands?"

"Look. I've been attacked without cause. I've been tied up, assaulted, insulted, abducted, left helpless in cuffs, tethered like a dog on a chain, left in a net, carried like a hunted carcass on a pole. Christ, I've enough on you to put you away for three lifetimes. Enough is enough."

"It would be your word against five others. Can you prove all that?"

"Who in friggin' hell do you think you are? Get these off me."

"I do hate to hear women swear especially in the crude forms of today. I must warn you that every time anyone swears in this house they spend thirty minutes gagged and hooded. In the last minute you've earned a full hour."

"What the..." but he slapped a hand over my mouth then skilfully replaced it with the ball.

"Now..." he pulled the gag-strap one more notch and then reseated himself. "I believe that you are expected back at work the day after tomorrow? To do so you have to be released from those restraints? If you continue to swear in this horrid manner I can't see you even shedding that gag... and this." He held up a black bag.

"Why are you so obstinate... perhaps that should be persistent? The girls, I know, have assured you that you aren't in danger and, even without their assurances, I know that you haven't found our bondage games altogether ... um ... objectionable.

"We've long considered you a likely candidate to join us. I made a point of meeting you on your walk a while ago and you confirmed that opinion. Whoa... quieten down! It's true we didn't ask you but we thought a surprise abduction would have more kick - for us all. And you certainly made a show of it. You were more than a handful. Just look there."

He picked up a handset and pressed a button. A large flat television screen came to life and I saw myself bound and walking awkwardly through woods on the end of that coffle. Another button and there I was slung under a pole and yet another I was wandering among trees on the end of a long chain. The whole thing had been videotaped!

I looked back to him and he grinned. "If you really feel so strongly about it you can take a copy of that tape with you. Evidence you know."

It took the wind completely out of my sails, as though I had been punched in the stomach. I didn't doubt he meant the offer of the tape - it would still be my word against his four girls; they only had to swear that I was a willing participant.

But that wasn't the point. In my innermost thoughts I knew that he spoke the truth. I had never been truly frightened because of the inconsistencies. I had been puzzled, sure, to tell the truth even addled at one time. Oh, yes. That damned... er... darned spear had frightened me and I fell to wondering what might have happened had I gained possession? Would I really have stuck it into my tormentor?

For the first time I remembered... I shook and nodded my head at him and, reading the message, he took out the gag. "Was it you who threw that bolas?"

"Guilty. A boyhood craze which I've kept up. I'm now so good with it that you don't have a chance of getting away from me. I can bring you down with the small one or tie your arms with the larger. Care to challenge?"

"One demonstration will suit me. That means you were riding shotgun the whole time?"

"I've known these woods all my life; I can keep out of sight. You'll seldom see other people out there but, when the girls are tied up or chained, what would you have me do?"

Suddenly I wasn't angry any more. I was playing over the day's happenings and enjoying the things that I had missed.

"So. Will you join our crazy coterie? The girls are hoping you will. To be truthful... in particular I am hoping you will."

"How many girls have fallen for your ploy of kidnapping them, chaining them, dressing them in non-existent clothing, threatening to gag and hood them... anything else?"

He laughed gently and then, colouring: "I'll make a bargain with you. If you can give me one honest meaningful kiss I'll annul your swear penalties for two weeks. For a second such... I'll take off the chains now."

"What makes you think I'll be here for two weeks?"

"Well now, refuse that second kiss... and the chains stay on."

"Then your kisses are in reverse order."

He sighed: "And people wonder why I have remained a bachelor."

"How long have the girls been here?"

"Oh, they all have jobs. They come back here every evening and don uniform in the cloakroom before entering."

"Curiouser and curiouser!"

"Will you join us? I believe you lack a family?"

"In fact I have the rest of the week off. May I have a week's trial?"

"For a third kiss?"

I nodded. After he broke it he said: "You missed out on numbers one and two. Sometimes I'm such a dreadful trickster." He thrust the gag back in my mouth and strapped it tight. "Do you know how wonderful you look like that?" Then he pulled the hood over and called the girls to me.

I now have a family – an extended family joined by a common bond.