Forceful Submission | free bondage stories

I had planned this moment with great care. For weeks I had practised ... and hard. I was only too aware that it was a one-shot operation ... it just mustn't fail. But, as I watched that faint telltale line advancing toward me through the water, I was strongly tempted to let the moment go, return to practising, go through yet more dummy runs. So much depended on it ... for me ... at any rate.

Then again, there had to come a time when I must make my try; it couldn't be put off forever... or could it? The challenge had been thrown out... somewhat contemptuously... and I knew that I must either conquer or just fold my little tent and creep quietly away into the dawn. Fanciful words... and, as such, they are all very well but... they don't get anywhere. To achieve that peace for which I so ardently yearned ... this was as good a time as was ever going to be. I started to swing my capture net.

Mirabelle was a girl in a thousand. No make that ten thousand; more probably a million. At twenty-three she was a champion distance runner, a black belt second Dan in Aikido, brown belt in Karate; she was no slouch in the boxing ring and had seldom - if ever? - been bested in the ladie's wrestling. She was more than a match for me even with my five-and-fifty pounds advantage. To take her, I had not only to match her brains but also overcome her physical skills and that was a matter of science. Fail... and she would likely beat the crap out of me. Succeed... and likely the same fate awaited me BUT... I simply had to try. She would be such a prize and, in truth, I wanted no other.

For weeks, I had watched her and planned. Each morning at dawn, with the precision of a chronometer, she emerged from her house, hid the key in the same place and departed on her two-mile run; this terminated at the lake. There she would strip off her running shoes, her shorts and halter top, splash naked into the water and swim to the far side with a crawl-stroke so smooth it belied the speed with which she clove the water. Thirty yards out on her return, as she drew level with the diving raft, she would duck-dive and finish the trip under water. How she contrived to control her breathing after such a workout I know not but it was at such a moment that she gave me my opportunity. This was her Achilles' heel.

Those powerful legs squeezed water up to the surface and left a distinct wake to track her invisible approach. My net whistled around my head as she approached the mark and then, heart in mouth and prayer on lip, I made the cast. It spun out into a fourteen-foot disc and descended on the surface exactly as I had intended. Thus far the Gods were being kind but... would she... COULD she evade it? She broke surface with her head placed almost truly at dead center; she was rising as the net was descending and so it should be steadily enveloping her. Frantically I started hauling to draw the thing into a closed bag; heap-big fisherman me - I had caught me a fish. And what a fish!

That, most definitely, was not the time for gloating or self-congratulation. The last thing into that bag was her legs and feet and they were fearsome weapons should she manage to cut loose with them. Speed was important because, although there was little prospect of her drowning, I had no wish to hurt her in any way and it would not be sporting to half choke her into submission. As she came into the shallow water I hastened to bend my line on to the waiting hoist and hauled her up into the tree branches like any big-fisherman's catch.

Head down she was thrashing around like all hell had been let loose but, though this would test my net to the utmost, it also meant that she was steadily drawing it tighter and tighter around herself so that, over the next few minutes, I had constantly to haul her higher and higher. I tipped out my duffel bag of necessities and selected the large strap already formed into a ring. With some trouble I eventually got this up over her head, settled it around her shoulders and pulled - HARD. Now the thin rope; thread it through the net starting at the middle of her back and fasten it around one wrist and then again PULL. Inexorably that hand was pulled to the middle of her back and I tied it off to the net.

She learned from that however and I had a lot more trouble with the other hand but, eventually, I had her wrists tied together in the middle of her back, carefully cinched and hauled up to the leather belt around her upper arms. Yessir... she was NOT going to get out of that in any time soon.

It was then that she remembered her voice; not that she screamed for, indeed, she had recognised me almost as soon as she broke the water surface. She used it to describe my ancestry since the day of the Norman Conquest and revealed details that, up to then, had been completely unknown to me. I do believe however that my Mother, bless her departed soul, would have been deeply offended.

I picked out the ball-gag: "Peace woman ... or I stuff this into your mouth until you are constipated."

"You'll have to remove this net first and, be warned, make your will before you try that."

Just to show that she was not right in all departments all the time, I applied the gag anyway over the net which must have been somewhat uncomfortable but ... I DID give her fair warning?

Now life was to get more exciting... which is to say downright dangerous. I lowered her to the ground, peeled back the net... but only as far as necessary... and bound her ankles with the plastic cable ties. Then, with the short length of rope, I bound the ties back to her thighs.

"Now," said I, trying hard not to sound breathless: "You're caught. You're mine. Are you going to honour your commitment?"

Of course, she couldn't answer except in a fuzzy imitation of the Morse code. "Oh well. If you're going to be huffy about it... " and, shouldering her, I set off on the 300-yard trek for home.

Down in the basement I had all in readiness. The cage was some four-foot square and six feet high but I had it flat like a chest with hinged lid. The bottom I had softened with the eiderdown that was abandoned when I bought the duvet; with her lying on that, I removed the gag and locked her down with two padlocks. "You might be able to shed that rope," I explained kindly, "but your ankles won't be so easy to free and still you will have to escape my cage. And should not such a pretty little bird be where you are?"

In kindness I shall describe the sound she emitted as a snort. "I'll get you for this. Hope you're a praying man?"

"Not at all. But you'll stay right there until you admit to losing the challenge and are willing to pay the penalty."

"What bloody penalty?"

"Oh dear. Have you forgotten already? Does that mean you were not sincere? You said you would marry me if ... or was it ONLY if? ... and when I caught and held you."

"Rubbish. I said IF you could catch me you COULDN'T hold me."

"That's not true and you know it. Not couldn't ... you said COULD."

"I didn't... and I do."

"Wrong. I'm in charge here. You're going to stay in there, my little caged canary, until I decide that you can go. AND that won't be until you admit defeat, admit your true undertaking and agree to wear this engagement ring." I laid the little box beside the cage.

"How in hell could I possibly do that when I'm trussed like a Christmas turkey. Anyway, it can only last until I'm missed and then it will be your turn for the handcuffs."

"Wrong again. I live here alone and you live over there alone. Our nearest neighbours are at least four hundred yards away and never visit. Tradesmen don't deliver out here; the electricity meter-reader has been around only last week and anyway he wouldn't smell a rat in under six months by which time he will have been replaced. The only regular visitor is the postman and I can easily collect your mail on a daily basis. Who's going to miss you?"

"The mail will pile up. You can't get into my house."

"Above the window, on a ledge? Isn't that where you keep the key? But I'm hungry; you think it over while I get me some breakfast."

As I left her I half expected that she would erupt in a blind attack on her restraints and against my cage. In fact it wasn't until I was slapping rashers of bacon into the pan as company for the eggs that I heard the commotion break out. I sneaked quietly down to make sure but all was well; she was having a good go, and no doubt getting rid of a sizeable chunk of spleen, but she was still secure and unlikely to do damage to herself. In all probability that cage could not withstand a charging rhino but I never doubted that it would withstand all attempts by dear Mirabelle to destroy my delicate self.

The eggs and bacon came to fruition just as the coffee pot came to the boil and I carried the steaming plate and a fragrant mug down below, drew up a chair and prepared to enjoy my breakfast while I watched her.

Eventually: "Don't I get anything?" And she swallowed noisily.

"Somewhat difficult in your present condition, hmm? And since when do captured princesses have any rights? They are expected to beg."

"Rotten sod. Aren't you satisfied in having me caged like a pet animal?"

"So. You DO admit to being under control. Caged like a pet...? Yes, I like that. Here's a situation I believe I could perpetuate."

"Suppose I need to go to the loo?"

"Suppose away. You stay there, with or without breakfast, without a loo, without a hairbrush or toothbrush, with only the things I care to grant you until you come to heel like a good pet."

"You're such a rotten ... " but her voice trailed away. Was it wishful thinking on my part or was there a subtle change in her. Could it be that...? Mirabelle was a girl not used to having anything but her own way. She ploughed through life as though it all belonged to her, as though all were beneath her, all were there to be her playthings pirouetting for her amusement. This was possibly the first time she had lost, had found herself on the receiving end, had been mastered. Was it possible she was beginning to enjoy the experience? Had I found a bondage partner?

Just the thought filled me with a whole series of feelings. Elation; anticipation; there was a something between my legs; sorrow at the fall of such a pride; did she not have much of which to be proud? Was it possible that this ripe fruit would fall into my spread apron? Certainly she had ceased to fight me. But, if I relented, how likely was it that I should end up flat on my back with a severe headache? Then again ... what a gamble?

I set down the plate and mug, fished out the keys and unlocked the cage. She just lay there looking up at me. I lifted her and stowed her temporarily over my shoulder while I removed the eiderdown, closed the cage and used her late bedding to upholster the top. With her face down I began to untie her wrists but, while her arms were still a little stiff, I pulled the cuffs from the back of my waistband and locked her hands behind. Then I sat her up. "Now. Will you condescend to share my breakfast with me?"

"No begging?"

"A 'please' would be nice?"

She nodded slowly. "Yes, please. Above all, the smell of that coffee... PLEASE."

I held the mug for her and she sipped it daintily; it was too hot to gulp but clearly she was thirsty. Then I spent a very enjoyable fifteen minutes feeding her my breakfast.

"But ... you haven't given yourself ... I'm sorry, I seem to have deprived you ... but it was more your doing than mine?"

"Easy enough to make some more. Coffee?"

And then she said, in a strangely quiet voice: "You ARE a sod... definitely... but at least you seem to be a very nice sod."

"That" I said, "makes good listening but it won't get you off the hook. You're mine, me unclothed beauty, and you stay in my cage until..."

But she interrupted with a loud and musical laugh: "I win. It is, and always will be, a woman's privilege to set the date."

I'm not going to tell you how long that ring remained on the floor beside the cage; it was the prize in a battle of wills. I won't tell you because that is for us to know but I suppose, in the end, she had the last laugh. Yet you could call it a draw? I WILL tell you however that, when eventually we considered honours to be even, well… they all lived happily ever after!