The Teleport 4 bondage story | dungeon, cuffs, gag, hood

I was wasting time waiting to pick up Bessy after her morning stable chores and feeling too lazy to shut-up shop and go back up to the house. I decided on creating a new game. First I wrote a short Batch file which was intended to generate random numbers and use them as co-ordinates to program the Teleport viewer. It would be a sort of Russian-roulette - a surprise ending but of the non-lethal sort.

It resulted in some quite bizarre endings; for example, I found myself with a goldfish's view of a room in which a young couple were indulging in games that I'm sure would not have met with the approval of the girl's mother! But, on the whole, the results were rather boring insights into the lives of just ordinary people. I did consider the result of zapping the young lady above perhaps into the presence of her Mother but it was (a) rather cruel and (b) against the moral code we had set for ourselves in using Uncle H's machine. Kidnapping was a no-no.

Then I bethought me of the stored co-ordinates of that moron who had captured the girl in the launderette. Why not check his activities?

It took but a few clicks of Uncle H's special mouse and I was looking once again at the inside of that barn in which we had reduced the ground-clearance of his kidnap van. It >was possible that he had acquired a new vehicle - or at least another vehicle - but I was not to know at that moment because the barn was empty. Mustn't waste electricity, we are told, and so I embarked on a tour of inspection to make the most use of that expended so far. At the end of ten minutes I had discovered only that there was not a soul at home.

Why I had that feeling I cannot explain but something about the place didn't feel right. It was all too much in order, as though an effort had been made to clean up. Yes, it could have been the result of a tidy mind but that was not the impression he had left with me on our last (non)encounter. Back to the kitchen... which was where I had begun my last romp through his place.

On that occasion there had been a pile of bondage gear left lying on the work-surface over on the left of the door as I came in. This time it was clear but, compared to the other work areas, it was remarkable in that it was totally clear. Could it be that he had piled up his equipment ready for use and then had gathered it all up on departure? Of course, it was more likely that I had become paranoid about him but, on the other hand...?

I called up my batch file and set about creating a different version of it. This one would vary the parameters to create a search pattern so that, by repeatedly clicking that mouse or by setting the display as a slide-show, I could rapidly survey the premises. I spent a good half-hour on this and I reckoned it could always be useful at other times and in other places?

It was time to collect Bessy. I returned to her stables; she was evidently still out with her great horse but there was a goodly heap of muck for me to clear. Then Bessy returned, the horses were fed and petted, the house was checked over by me while Bessy showered and, at last, we were back chez moi.

I explained what I had planned and she was curious to see how well my program would work and so we collected a bottle of wine, two glasses and a box of biscuits and then settled in front of the control desk.

At first all we saw was a series of pictures of the sky with small clouds making their way across the screen as the view was progressed. Then the roof of the house came into view followed by more sky and some treetops. "At least it seems to be working," said Bessy non-committally.

Then came a view of the top of the house, taking in most of the upstairs windows, and this was followed by more sky and then a smidgin of what I thought was the barn roof.

And so it proved to be; we scanned our way right down the house and all the way across the property and in four sweeps had covered the full depth of the house. Nothing at all unusual.

"Does he have any cellars?" suggested the practical mind of Bessy.

It took a few minutes to adjust the limiting parameters and we set off once more on our search. And this time we struck oil. Well, not of the liquid kind nor of the solid type of black stuff but a rich haul for all that. Right at the limit of our set search, on the last sweep in fact, something appeared at the bottom of the picture. It wasn't identifiable as anything in particular but it certainly wasn't part of the layers of earth at which we had been looking. I reset the scan to go deeper - and there it was. An underground room, more - it was an underground dungeon.

All down one side there were heavy iron rings set into the wall about three-feet from the floor. Under the rings was a long bench; the bench was divided into short sections by small stub-walls, not unlike a stable divided into stalls, and each "stall" contained one of the wall rings. Under the bench each section seemed to contain materials for making crude beds. Closer inspection revealed that, in each section, there lay two devices we could only interpret as rigid manacles - about twelve-inch lengths of steel strip, some two-inches wide, with fold over semi-circular fittings on each end. Beside these in each stall there lay a hinged iron ring connected by a short chain to the wall ring.

We found confirmation of our growing suspicions at the far end of the room where two girls were sitting on the bench. Each had her hands locked into one those rigid cuffs and her ankles into another. Around each neck was the iron collar of that stall so that they were chained to the wall. Neither Bessy nor I could accept that they were voluntarily in bondage. "You were right," she said. "He IS a slaver."

"Beauty of Merciless Domination - Realless FemDom Art"

The girls weren't gagged but each had a ball-gag hanging around the neck as though in readiness or recently in use. One was fairly smartly dressed but the dishevelled appearance of the other suggested that either she had been held there for some time or had received rough handling since capture. I looked at Bessy: "Well? What do we do now? Does this come under the heading of using the machine for kidnapping?"

"No. We have to rescue them of course ... but there is no harm in waiting a bit. If he's away it could be that he's collecting another victim ... or perhaps victims. We don't want to spook him and we might... we just might be able to catch the man himself."

"Yeah. I agree. But he's got to make a move sometime to move them on and we might catch more than just this chappie?"

"Then again," said my admirable Bessy, "this might be further down the chain than we are thinking. There's a whole row of holding points there. Maybe this is the man who collects from others and makes a mass shipment."

"Ah. Wish I was a genius. We don't have to worry about the girls because we can pull them out any time we wish and..."

"Hold it," Bessy interrupted. "Something's up."

The two captive girls had both looked up to the right of our viewpoint and one of them, at least, seemed to cringe back. A man, the big man of our previous acquaintance, came into view carrying over his shoulder a canvas bag which looked very much like the one we had stolen from him. He unlocked the closure and tipped out a cruelly ball-tied young coloured woman. He released her from the ball, dragged her to the wall next the existing captives and secured her with a collar. Soon he was back with another bagged girl who received similar cavalier treatment and she was followed by another, not bagged, but well trussed and handcuffed.

He untied each girl in turn, locked their wrists and ankles into the stocks, loosened their gags... and just left them!

"Seems quite confident that room's sound-proof," offered Bessy. "But what now?"

I had been turning this over in my mind while watching the moron at work. "How about this? First we go in there and zap those neck chains; then we can bring each girl back to our cage here. Yeah, I know; but hang on a moment. We can turn out the lights and blackout the window here so they will never know about this place.

"Then I send you in there to check his place, see that the door is locked and reasonably strong and look for keys to those shackles. Then we visit that herpetologist place we discovered the other day and borrow one of his glass tanks full of snakes. We transfer it into his underground dungeon with some written instructions. Then we go find our girl-trading friend and transfer him into that room with snakes. You're a girl... what would you like the instructions to be?"

She thought a moment. "We'd have to make sure he's not carrying a gun or anything like that. Would be a bit difficult to explain damage to the tank, casualties amongst the snakes or pay for such damage. And if any of them managed to escape?"

"Agreed. But in a locked room... do you think he's likely to risk breaking the tank?"

"Good point. Then I would instruct him to put on at least one of those collars and then cuff and iron himself just as he did it to those girls. Else WE open the tank!

"Next ... send the snakes back home and finally, send the girls back there but this time on the outside looking in. Once they've freed themselves... will be interesting to see what they cook up in revenge. They can call the police from there and that leaves us in the clear."

"Not bad. But... supposing other members of the gang turn up, either to bring more girls or to collect the ones from his dungeon?"

"Hmm. We'd have to keep permanent watch until it was all over."

"Well, good my Bess. You are the tactician of this outfit - I leave it to you."

"Must think about it," she said. "Watch them; I'll bring some lunch down. No, the picnic basket will do. Don't take your eyes off those poor things."

She was back before she had cleared the cage room: "Won't do as it stands. If you zap those five girls you'll just dump them one on top of each other and someone's going to get hurt."

"We'll use that batch-file program again to reset the co-ordinates each time so that they arrive in line next each other."

"Good. To work, dear boy and meanwhile ... keep an eye on the doings down there."

She didn't take long - indeed few things ever take long with Bessy - but, on her return, I said nothing; I just waited for her reaction to the monitor display. Apart from the five girls chained on the bench there were now two others hogtied on the floor. The one in rope looked like a bondage-artist had been enjoying himself; her arms were twisted up behind her and held immobile with a veritable body harness; her crossed legs were pulled up far too tightly to her elbows. The other girl was held in interlinked handcuffs and leg irons. Both were hooded.

"Hmm," said Bessy at last; "looks like he's the collector, doesn't it. Question is - how long have we got?"

"There's another problem too; those two were brought in together by two new men. How many do we have to contend with and when do they stop arriving?"

"I don't think that matters all that much," she opined. "All that you do is transfer them to that Scottish beach you used when you rescued me. Still got it saved?"

"Yes, indeed. What's more ... they'll be quite comfortable there because they'll find plenty of furniture to sit on." She gave me a wonderful smile.

"So when do we start?"

"Could take those last two girls now; hooded they won't have any idea of what happens to them."

Bessy thought a moment: "Might not be a bad idea; it will save time later maybe. And if his-nibs returns… well, in the meantime we'll simply increase his perplexity. Yes... bring them one at a time and give me time to sort them on arrival." She nipped smartly out to the cage and stood by the bed.

I zapped the first girl and waited while Bess pulled, rolled and pushed her out of the arrival area and then I collected the second one. I popped out and helped her lift them off the bed and transfer them to a corner of the cage out of harm's way. But, on our return, I was alarmed to see the big fellah just entering the room with another victim; this one was not bagged but had evidently been snagged directly from a formal dance. Her wrists were tied together behind with plastic ties and she was similarly bound at the ankles and knees over her formal dress. She wore the inevitable hood however. He was looking back over his shoulder as he entered and was evidently talking to someone behind which is why he failed to notice that his previous two captives were missing.

A second man now entered; he looked short and wiry - a dwarf - but the girl he was carrying had evidently been taken from the same source and was bound in exactly the same way. Unlike her companion in misfortune however she was struggling and obviously kicking up something of a fuss. He quietened her with several hearty slaps on the backside.

"That," said Bessy, "obviously hurt. Send 'em to Scotland, Richard; do it now. Coventry is too close."

Even in a moment of crisis, under emotional stress that girl never loses her sense of humour. After we had completed our double dispatch she turned once more to the girls left lying on the floor. "Two more not tethered but hooded. So they too can come now?"

"On your station; number one coming up."

We repeated the double act of a few minutes previously and stood a moment looking at the four forlorn and unhappy bundles. "Not long now," whispered MY girl.

"Now," she went on, "before anyone else turns up... see about severing those neck chains then we can bring them all here." I had yet to resolve the question that had faced me when first I rescued Bessy, if only because we had never set up an experiment to test it and the test was not possible on a live captive. So, one by one, we focussed on the neck chains and severed them; that left five rather surprised girls sitting on the bench, still pretty well helpless but clearly aware that their tethering chains had parted. But of course, because they were not hooded, they must have noticed that four other girls had simply vanished?

"Now... do your knight in shining armour bit," she instructed me.

"Whoa, lady. We had better black-out the cage-room first?"

"Um, yeah. Getting carried away... and that properly is their role - not mine."

I went out to the cage room and crossed to Uncle H's bondage store from which I extracted five hoods. I checked that the four bondagettes were (reasonably) OK and then returned, doused the lights and put up the shutters on the observation window.

"All set," I cried and proceeded on my abductor's way - with Bessy's blessing. There were now nine young ladies in our charge and I blessed the late Uncle-H for his generosity in setting up a large cage; how he would have enjoyed this escapade.

"How," enquired Bessy, in a tone with a touch of asperity, "do you propose to put hoods on those five with the lights out? Ask them to close their eyes?"

"Didn't consider that," I defended, "but once they were in there we couldn't have got to the hoods at all."

"OK," she replied cheerfully, "you're right but I'm even more so. Of course. Now, send me there and I'll have a check around. See if any more are arriving and then we can start the next phase."

"Hang on a minute. Let's look in the barn first and see what's doing in the unloading bay."

The barn contained only one vehicle which had to be the big man's replacement for the one we had doctored. "OK. But be careful... and remember the keys to the girls' irons. Don't want to leave them with ours. The originals are likely in Scotland and I can't see him posting them home."

With Bessy on her way I set the scanner to track her and sat back. Almost at once a commotion broke out in the cage room. I could see only two choices - raise the lights or use the scanner. Bessy seemed to have the place to herself and the barn and the approach drive remained empty. A quick survey showed that it seemed safe enough. In the cage room however there was a scene of chaos; the last five arrivals were shuffling around in their rigid cuffs, presumably trying to explore, but two of them had fallen over the hog-tied bundles and one was engaged in a battle with a gowned and bound and hooded (but not hog-tied) party-goer both apparently under the impression that they were being attacked.

I tied my handkerchief over my face - traditional bandit style - and armed myself with the big torch and the five hoods. It was a simple matter to install the hoods when my victims were all but helpless and being blinded by my torch. Then I fetched five pairs of cuffs of various sorts snatched from Uncle H's store and anchored the wanderers to the cage bars. Next, silk scarves tied loosely around their necks ensured that the hoods did not come off. With peace restored I returned to my seat.

Now I realised that, in deflecting the scanner from watching over Bessy, I had unlocked the tracking mechanism and the question arose as to where she might be. Hopefully she had completed her task and was back in the dungeon waiting for me to collect her. But, as the scanner displayed the dungeon, I was horrified to see a figure that was undoubtedly Bessy sitting on that bench collared to the wall and with her hands locked behind in the rigid cuffs.

On the floor in front of her was the leather wheeled trunk that our anti-hero had used when he made his try for the girl in the launderette. Clearly someone had arrived and surprised her and I cursed my folly for breaking away from my nursemaid duty. I learned later that she had indeed been awaiting my rescue from the dungeon and was standing with her back to the door when she had been seized. He had abandoned his trunk and swept her aside in the same move; as she crashed into the bench he had come down on her with the collar. The rigid handcuff was child's play after that.

But first things first; I switched back to the barn and there was a bearded type unloading one of those wriggling canvas bags from the boot of a large car. As he moved off I took a look inside that boot and also inside the car - they were the only two. I went back to the dungeon and waited in ambush. It was just too easy!

I cut Bessy's neck chain and brought her back but into the control room. There, somewhat to her indignation, I conducted a quick search and found a set of promising-looking keys which I took into the cage room and plumped on the bed. I released one of the girls from the cage bars, carried her to the bed, loosed the scarf around her neck and sent her back with the keys; in no time at all she had the hood off and had spotted the keys. By the time number-2 arrived she was free but for one foot and she started immediately on the job of releasing her sister in misfortune. Soon all eleven victims were wandering or sitting around looking a bit dazed - i.e VERY puzzled.

I watched for a while to see that nothing further untoward happened and eventually they made their way out of the dungeon, commandeered the two vehicles and drove themselves away - no doubt to the nearest police station.

All that was left was Bessy; she sat in the chair she had occupied for most of the evening but now she had a collar around her neck from which dangled a short piece of chain. Her hands were locked behind her about twelve inches apart in a rigid cuff with a distinct homemade flavour and she was not amused - I fancied. "You let yourself be taken," I accused as I redirected the scanner.

"I let..." she fair exploded. "What the hell were you doing when I was attacked?"

"Sorry love, but there was a little fracas breaking out in the cage and I had to sort it before anybody got hurt. There wasn't anybody else there when I left you."

"It at least SOUNDS like a good excuse. I'll give you that. How about getting these things off me?"

"Problem is I gave your keys to the girls to free themselves. You're stuck in them."

"Richard," she began with one of her truly menacing tones. "They are just pad... " But by that time another of those rigid cuffs had arrived on the cage-room bed. I went out to retrieve it and collected a couple of padlocks from Uncle H's bondage cupboard, a big fat ball-gag and one of the hoods. When she was fully restrained I zapped her upstairs to the bedroom and shut down the equipment.

If I need to describe what followed after that then ... you are not the man I thought you Gunga-Din.

The next morning after breakfast I went down and fired up the machine to check on happenings at the kidnapper's emporium. Not surprisingly the place was a bedlam of police-cars, policemen, press cars and media people and a few hopeful rubbernecks. There was one thing however that raised my hackles; a woman journalist was harrying the two girls who had accompanied the police.

From the finger-wagging I guessed she was mouthing something along the lines of: "You can't expect me to accept seriously that you were kidnapped, chained up in there and that four other girls who were brought in just simply vanished? Then, according to you, you suddenly found yourself in another place in complete darkness, that somebody later attacked you in the dark and hooded you but eventually you got back here. Pull the other leg, my dear, I've got bells on that one."

I zapped my ironbound Bessy into the control room and told her the problem while I relieved her of her ironware. "To hell with the ethics," she exploded, "that bitch needs a lesson."

"Hold on, there. Would you believe that story?"

"No. But there's no need to harass those girls like that. They've had a pretty rotten time. Let me get into position then bring her here into the cage."

I watched in astonishment as Bessy leaped into action. She whistled out to Uncle H's bondage store and emerged with a ball gag, handcuffs and a hood. Back in the control room she collected the two rigid cuffs I had just removed from her own limbs complete with padlocks and then exited once again to stand by the bed. She made a quick mental check and gave me a thumbs-up. I pressed Zap and an astonished lady reporter rolled over on the bed.

Like a tigress, my Bessy pounced and had the hood over her head before the woman got a chance to look around. She positively rammed the ball-gag at the protesting woman's mouth, buckled it and drew it tightly so that it both silenced her and secured the hood. I watched in amazement as Bessy rolled her on to her stomach, seized the hands that were trying to dislodge the gag, drew them behind her and cuffed them. Then I remembered the sight of Bessy handling that stallion - she was strong! And that gave ME food for thought!

Now, well and truly in charge, Bessy took her time in fitting the two sets of rigid cuffs and then, leaving her there, she returned to me. "See if the dungeon's now empty," she said. "If it is we'll put her in there. When she finds everyone saying she's set this up... Best of luck. See how she will like it when nobody will believe her story. When I give you the signal ... zap her back."

The dungeon was unoccupied and I set up for the transfer. Meanwhile, out in the cage, Bessy recovered our handcuffs and unbuckled the gag. With her hand on the hood she looked at me; I signalled OK. She gave me a thumbs-up with one hand and snatched off the hood with the other; there, for all the world to see, was one angry iron-trussed reporter flopping around on the floor of the dungeon. We saw a replay next day on the television news report.

We took ourselves upstairs where I had to fight-off a triumphant Bess who, now excited by her treatment of the lady, was intent on revenge for last night. She proved to be unable to subdue me and spent the next thirty-six hours in MY handcuffs. She wore a gag too for a lot of that time until, under threat of hanging by her heels, she promised to stop scolding.

Ah, me. It was great to be young.