No Safe Word bondage story | chain, gagged, handcuffs

It's funny - or is it - that so many bondage stories begin this way? We were sitting together on the couch watching a film in which the heroine had been that bit too nosey and had been caught. She was sitting there in some cellar-cum-storage room bound hand and foot and gagged and trying desperately to get free. Just why she should have been gagged while incarcerated in an underground cellar was not at all clear.

Nevertheless she was putting on a good show and I was beginning to fantasise about getting Hazel into a similar circumstance. My thoughts were interrupted when she burst out: "I wonder what it's REALLY like?"

"What what's really like?"

"Well... " She hesitated a moment. "I mean... to be taken... by force... and kept like that... with no options... unable to do anything about it...?"

"Keep wondering. You wouldn't like it for sure if it ever happened to you."

"Well... we could pretend... and...?"

"No we couldn't."

"Of course we could. But, if it scares you...?"

"Scares ME? You clearly haven't thought about it enough."

"I have too. And it's very exciting. Won't you...?"

"Look, " I said patiently, "let's suppose that I have a crush on you... "

"You mean you haven't?"

"Girl! You're obviously obsessed by demons. If I have a crush on you and you won't have any then I've three options namely get lost, keep trying or kidnap you."

"Oh, goodie."

"Keep quiet or I'll put you back in the bag." THE bag was a large-sized duffel bag in which I had on several occasions incarcerated her... much to her delight, I might say.

"Now, as I was saying... no... as I was trying to say... it's the last choice that poses all the problems. To kidnap a woman, especially one as small as you, can't be all that difficult in itself but, with the deed done, you need a place to keep her.

"A suburban house such as this makes a whimsical dungeon with all the nosey neighbours. If I were a rich man and owned a largish house in isolated country... it just might be possible. But that simply shifts the problems one stage further down the line and it multiplies them."

"That's ridiculous. If I've been kidnapped I would try to escape and so I'd need to be tied up or chained up or something. Do a good job and the girl remains aboard the lugger for all time?"

"No! It's not by any means that simple. Once she has been... "

"You've tied me many times and it's not often these days I escape. If you use handcuffs and things like that...?"

She stopped because I had grabbed her by her upper arms and forced her over to lie face down on the couch. From the drawer under the small table at my elbow, I extracted the handcuffs and locked her hands behind her. She started to huff and that was quickly taken care of with the ballgag which also lurked in that drawer.

"Now perhaps I can get more than two words in edgeways or any other ways. As I was trying to say... " But Hazel wanted to be captured and so, twisting round, she planted both feet in my middle section narrowly missing the origination of my progeny. I sighed and extracted the final goody from that drawer... namely the leg-irons. Catching her right foot, I clamped one circlet around her ankle, threaded the chain through the handcuff-chain and then locked the other end to her left ankle so putting her into a non-stringent hog-tie.

I left her bumping around on the couch while I went upstairs to fetch the bag. Minutes later, she was making a pretty picture with her gagged head sticking out of the top of a canvas tube that was laced neatly around her neck.

"Now... as I was... had been... was... trying so hard to say... err... I wonder what that would look like if I dunked you in the pond? Can a big-mouthed girl swim while hog-tied... let alone tied up like a consignment of mail? Uh? Do you want to say something? Like: 'Sorry. Yes dear, I would like to listen to your words of wisdom?' No? Well then..."

She was grunting her safety signal and I hastily removed the gag.

"That's just my point," she said. "I have a safety signal and so I can stop the happening whenever I want. I'm never really captured. I just wondered what it would be like to be really captured and not have any control at all."

"But you suggested we could pretend?"

"I was going to suggest that you tie me up and I give up my safety signal. It would then be all up to you. Poor little me would have no options at all."

"My dear Hazel. If you were really taken then that would be the end of it... of you I mean. Your captor could never let you go else you might finger him."

"He could keep me blindfolded."

"Blindfolds can be slipped, pulled down, rubbed off. You only need to get one glimpse of your captor ... and you're dead."

"Would he necessarily need to kill me? Suppose he had a big isolated house as you suggested. Why couldn't he keep me as long as he liked?"

"What happens when he no longer likes you? How could he keep you forcibly without anyone ever getting suspicious? If it's a big house, he would need servants."

"In all the good stories he has a devoted servant who would never betray him."

"That's only in stories. But, even with such a retainer, there are countless other problems. The captured slave has to be fed and someone might wonder why they buy so much food?"

"I wouldn't eat all that much - I'm only a tiddler."

"Care to put that to the test?"

"But I'm NOT a real captive. I still have my safe word."

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"Think about it. Would you really care to be tied up, chained up, gagged, blindfolded... for an indeterminate time? No means of calling it off when you have either tired of the game, got too uncomfortable, bored...?"

"How can I tell when you refuse to let me try it?"

"Hazel. You live alone and spend a deal of your time here. You're between jobs. There's nobody to miss you. You're caught in my handcuffs and stuck in my bag. You certainly can't escape. Isn't that enough?"

"No. You'll let me out directly 'cos it's nearly sack time."

"I see." I crossed to the toy cupboard and came back with her least favourite bondage material - duct tape.

Hazel began to bounce in her sack: "No. I don't like that stuff."

"It's not your choice if you can't stop me." That seemed to give her pause for thought and I used the break to seal her mouth. Stepping back I spent some time enjoying my little bagged baggage. She was most definitely objecting but... wasn't that what she had professed to crave? I knew she was suffering real feelings of helplessness because I had never before known her to struggle with what appeared to be desperation?

I went into the lounge and collected the tablecloth from the little table that my Mother had used for playing at cards. On my return: "Because you are my heart's desire and I can refuse you nothing at all I shall grant your wish. Understand that, from this moment until another in the far distance of time as yet not specified, I am a wicked and cruel kidnapper who intends to hold you against your will and may yet perform unknown and terrifying deeds on your helpless body. You are nothing more than a piece of my property with which I shall do whatever I please. This is NOT a game! You do NOT have a safe word. Do I make myself plain?"

For a long moment she looked at me and slowly her eyes widened. The look on what I could see of her face above the tape was priceless. Now that she was face to face with her dream as a reality, she seemed to be changing her mind about the thrill.

I draped the cloth over her head letting one edge descend just below her chin; then, taking the two corners, I pulled it loosely around her neck and tied the corners over the remainder of the cloth as it hung behind her. Next I lifted the cloth from behind, brought it forward over her head, under her chin and again tied the ends loosely at her nape. Now even the irrepressible Hazel could not really believe in escape? She was hog-tied in steel, tape-gagged, hooded in two layers of blue-check linen and seriously bound into a strong canvas bag.

I made a point of dragging the bundle across the floor instead of carrying it, dumped it in the corner cupboard and banged shut the door. Then I sat down outside and listened. The most extraordinary collection of sounds reached my delighted ears; ouffs, grunts, bumps and rustles, clinking of metal against metal. Twice something cannoned against the door and then, not quite so funny, came a sudden silence. She could have just tired or conceded defeat; on the other hand her breathing was restricted by the tape gag?

I opened up and pulled her out. The bag and its check topping was limp and silent. I fairly ripped off the cloth hood and then the tape over her mouth. Her eyes opened and she looked up at me with a well-known grin: "Gotcha!"

"I see. You don't believe me that we are no longer playing a game." I re-gagged her cheeky face and from the toy cupboard, I brought the black-bag hood. "Lights out!"

I left her like that, helpless on the floor, while I watched to the end of the film and then flipped over to get the news and weather report. Rain all day tomorrow - so we would need something to do or, at least, I would.

I made some hot chocolate, removed the hood and gag and offered her a drink. After that, she triumphantly announced that she needed to use the loo. With her out of the bag, I released the hogtie but replaced the irons as a hobble; she half turned and shook her handcuffs at me: "Can't do anything like this!"

"Tough. I'm not taking any chances on you escaping."

"Escaping? What the hell are you talking about? I've GOT to go – just release my hands!"

Again from the toy cupboard, I extracted her slave collar and added ten feet of chain to her neck. Arrived in the loo, I reached under her mini-skirt and pulled down her panties which very definitely aroused her extreme ire. Ignoring the protest, I dumped her on the hole but she bounced off again and so I secured her leash to the window handle and left her there for a quarter of an hour.

There was no doubt that, on my eventual return, she was livid... to put it mildly.

Two strips of duct tape reduced the sound level considerably while I cleaned her up and manipulated her panties through the leg irons without releasing them. Then, bare below and hooded above, I shouldered her and carried her up to my bedroom.

There was never a question about leaving her alone all night however loosely bound and so she had to spend it in my room and of course, the gag must come off too unless I put her in bed beside me. I locked her chain to the foot of my bed and then brought in the single mattress from the spare-room bed and then a couple of blankets and the duvet. "Make yourself at home," I invited. "I'll remove the gag before I go to sleep but... just one peep...! "

She clambered to her feet and then, denied the use of her throwing limbs and her aiming machinery, had to settle for stamping one foot; even that nearly felled her because she forgot the hobble chain between them.

"When... IF... you promise to behave I'll consider cuffing your hands in front. Until you accept that the decisions are mine however... they stay behind."

When I returned some half-hour later, she was rolled in the blankets but was only half on the mattress. I made her more comfortable and then removed the hood and duct tape. The surprise was mine... not a single word. I changed the steel handcuffs for leather bondage mittens and joined them, still behind, with a nine-inch chain. I also changed her leg irons for leather anklets and a nine-inch chain. Not a word.

The next morning she continued with her wordless acquiescence and communicated only by nodding or shaking her head in response to my questions. I re-cuffed her hands in front, unlocked the chain from the bed and left her to shuffle to the bathroom. For safety's sake I carried her down the stairs and left her to feed herself but she stayed cuffed, hobbled and leashed for the next thirty-six hours.

By then, her continued silence was beginning to worry me slightly. That evening, I decided to try stirring her a little. Duct tape in hand: "I know you don't like this stuff but I happen to like you wearing a tape gag. While the film is showing, I'm going to ensure your silence."

Obediently she held up her face while I applied the gag – she ought to have exploded!

I bent her legs at the knees, pulled her arms over her legs and padlocked her handcuff chain to the hobble-chain so constraining her to sit in a sort of ball and then settled back to watch. But I saw little of the film. Her strange acquiescence was disturbing even though I realised that she was probably playing me the way any fisherman would work to tire a catch.

As I sat there looking at her diminutive and helpless form, I pondered the question of whether to push her a little harder? Restore the hood? Put her back in the bag? What was the action most likely to provoke a reaction from her? This was not at all the provocative and argumentative Hazel of my acquaintance.

It came as a very real shock that moment when I realised that I was enjoying this. Hazel had always relished bondage games and so I was not overly concerned that she might be unhappy at her present predicament. But the thought that I was seeking to increase her restraint simply because it was feeding my mounting excitement...? Now that really troubled me. What had started as a response to her curiosity at being kidnapped was now in danger of turning into a sadistic act and that... most definitely I did not like.

In turning off the television set, I inadvertently triggered the response from her that I had been seeking; she started and looked round at me in silent inquiry. I removed the padlock that had married her wrist and ankle chains, lifted her and carried her up to the bedroom. I laid her on the bed with her chain beside her, pulled up the covers and then gently removed the tape. Still she made no sound but, when I undressed and climbed in beside her, there came a look on her face that I could not describe as fear but which I felt did not signify trust.

I stretched out my arm and drew her against me but left it at that. A few minutes and she wriggled slightly but such was my own state of mind, I could not decide Whether she was seeking greater comfort or trying to widen the gap between us; perhaps she wished to get closer?

I have no idea how long we lay like that but then a small voice said, very quietly: "Sorry, love. I need the loo."

Cool. Calm. Quiet. No trace at all of resentment.

"I'd better unlock you."

"No! No, don't do that. You'll spoil it all." She slipped from the bed and shuffled toward the bathroom. Her chain leash was clearly dragging after her and, when she swore lightly, I knew it had jammed in the door. She was quickly back and climbing in but, as she rolled toward me, her wrist chain caught on my nose - she was raising her arms to put them around my neck.

When I awoke next morning I still had her wrapped securely in my arms. The World once again was a bright and sunny place - with chains - but, deep within me, that little male chauvinist bit was speculating on how long a set of chains would last when worn continuously.