No Escape | chain, locked gag | free bondage stories

I never dreamed, right there at the beginning, that I could ever regret an act as I learned to regret that one. Looking back on it I often long to repeat it and, perhaps one day, Keith may agree to do so. But, even so, I doubt it could ever be quite the same. It could not produce the same feelings of despair, of humiliation and the anger at being treated so. I shall always have the feeling that human beings could not treat each other in that manner and yet... slavery has long been a fact of human life ... and how else did it come about?

Let me start at the very beginning. We were watching an adventure film; the usual stuff in which the heroine gets too nosey or too venturesome or is just plain unlucky... she was caught by the slavers and dealt with by the simple and lucrative method of attaching her to their slave coffle. With their bound hands forced up between their shoulders, feet hobbled with irons, cleave gagged and linked together by a long chain which was locked about each neck, six women were being driven through dense forest toward the beach and a waiting boat. The driver was a huge brute of a man who simply welcomed every chance to use his heavy whip. I was thinking that, with the threat of such a weapon, I too would move forward with alacrity no matter that I deeply resented such treatment?

But what must it be like, in real life, to be snatched like that? Grabbed, gagged, bound and carried off. To have a chain wrapped around your neck with a padlock securing it and to find that you now had no more worth than the unfortunate native girls who shared the chain. That, like them, you were just a piece of merchandise? In all these films the abducted maidens are always dark skinned "savages" and it is difficult to empathise with someone so less fortunate than yourself. But if I were also locked on to such a chain, if I were in a captivity from which there could be no possible escape, if henceforth someone else would determine the manner and direction of my life? It must surely lead to a desp.... :

"Hey. Hey, Honey. Where are you? You didn't see much of THAT film? Are you so very tired?"

"Er... no. No. I'm OK."

"But you were miles away. Am I permitted to ask where?"

"Err... yeah. It's no secret. I was thinking what it must be like to be grabbed like that... just rendered helpless... taken from friends and family... all the sources of help. Whatever goes through the minds of such women?"

"Honey. That capture sequence must have been well over half an hour ago. Are you OK?"

"I told you. There's nothing wrong with me. Just that those women... well, our bondage games are all very well but... we don't play for keeps like that."

"That's just the point, surely. When I tie you, rope or cuffs or chains, not only do you know that I'll let you go but you always have your safe word. You're not thinking you would like to try it without a safe word? Without any kind of control?"

"It still wouldn't be the same would it? It's like tying yourself... you always have to take escape precautions. It HAS to come to an end. But... in that scenario they gave there... there wouldn't be an end... it's for good. What on earth could that feel like?"

"That's really got to you, hasn't it? But forget it; we can't get anywhere near that and the chances of you meeting real slavers...? Afraid you'll never know what it is to disappear into some desert sheik's stronghold but... you would definitely NOT like it."

"How would you know? If I can get off being unable to escape from YOUR bondage what sort of a turn-on would it be to find that I just can't escape ever?"

"Without a safety word?"

"How else could it be inescapable? Truly no way out?"

He laughed. "Always suspected that somewhere in that prize head of yours there's a loose screw. Come on now. Snap out of it and let's have some coffee."

I rose and dropped him a deep slow curtsey: "Yes Master. Very well, Master. Whatever you s..." But I broke off and ran for my life into the kitchen.

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The thought persisted through the next week and I tried hard to imagine the feelings of women captured in a man's world. Once I hinted at it again to Keith but he seemed totally disinterested. Then the idea became submerged in preparations for our three-week sojourn in a wild part of the Lake District. That was a place I had never visited and the prospect was something indeed exciting.

It was a five-and-a-half hour drive and we arrived in the wee small hours of Saturday morning. That night was moonless and, when Keith killed the car's lights, we were pressed in on all sides by an inky blackness and positively assailed by total silence. Indeed there were bright and huge stars but they just made the cottage with its outbuildings and some others appear as just darker silhouettes.

"You weren't kidding about it being wild woolly and lonely," I said. "Let's get in and get some lights on."

When Keith found the button, we could hear a small generator cough into life somewhere out back and light, very welcome light, flooded that little living-cum-dining room. The fire was ready laid and, while Keith bent to set a match to it, I made a quick sweep through the other rooms; no more than a kitchen, a small oddity room and a bedroom nearly filled by a substantial double bed. Keith set about firing-up the kitchen stove while I stowed away the things he had carried in from the car.

On my final exit from the bedroom I saw that the fire was taking off nicely but there seemed no sign of Keith. The door to the outside was still closed but, thinking he must have gone out to fetch the remaining things from the car, I came further into the room. I was seized from behind, pushed down to the floor and there, while I was recovering from my surprise and thinking this was no time to start fun and games, my hands were cuffed behind and hobble cuffs were locked on my ankles.

"Keith, you idiot. Can't you wait untimmphh... "; he pressed a leather-covered bit into my mouth and quickly strapped it to the back of my head. He held me down by the crude technique of sitting on my backside and proceeded to fit a contraption that later I discovered to be a leather and steel bridle. Apart from the strap that held the gag there was another around my forehead, one from under my chin over the top of my head, one around my neck and they were all interlocked in some way. When he had adjusted it all to his satisfaction I heard distinct clicks as he used at least a half-dozen small padlocks to ensure I could not remove it.

Next he used a skill with which I was very familiar; he undressed me without allowing a single chance for me to escape his shackles and I ended up naked, very-thoroughly gagged, handcuffed in front, hobbled, a metal belt fitted snugly around my waist and a similar two-inch wide collar around my neck to which was attached some ten feet of welded chain.

He stood back to survey his handiwork: "Welcome to the land of slavery," he said. "Your every wish - as ever - is my command. Now... GET SOMETHING TO EAT."

Just the tone he used in giving an 'order' caused my hackles to rear up. "Go to hell," was my intended reply but it was ruthlessly blocked by that fat bit in my mouth. I reached up with my shackled hands to tear it out and came up against the reality of those little locks. In impotent fury I stamped my foot at him and made my safety signal. He ignored it and turned to the large duffle bag he had dropped just inside the door; from that he extracted a wicked looking whip. I stepped back; he swung it and I heard a hiss followed by a loud crack that seemed less than an inch from my right ear.

"There aren't any safety words, signs or intentions here," he said and I was startled by the malevolence in his voice and features. Again he swung the whip but this time, as I moved back, I tripped on the hobble and would have fallen but that the table was in such close proximity. "FOOD. On the double." He came at me with such determination that, following the hobble chain's reminder, my nerve broke and I beat it hastily into the kitchen.

I was trembling and very confused so that at first I was unable to decide on anything. He followed me in, picked up the end of my chain and locked it to the rail along the front of the cooker. "The food is on the table." He stalked out and I heard the television come to life; my tether allowed me to see into the living room and fury is not the word for my reaction to see him calmly sitting in an easy chair with his feet on the table. I reached to fill the kettle at the pump; the difficulty that resulted from the inability to separate my hands by more than about seven inches produced my very first hint of the utter humiliation of my position. It was further increased by the realisation that HE had decided on the meal and had simply set it out for me to prepare.

The experience thus far had unnerved me, shattered my self-confidence and raised doubts about Keith's behaviour. He had never before treated me with other than love and respect; even in our bondage role-playing I had never seen the ferocity he was now displaying. I was on autopilot as I went through the motions of preparing that meal; my thoughts were far from the job at hand; I even forgot my nakedness until a spot of fat flew from the pan and landed close to my belly button. But the kitchen held not an apron, nor a towel, nor a coat. He had taken care to see that I remained in my natural state.

When my ad hoc meal was ready I faced the problem of carrying it to table. The only solution available to me was to use a large serving spoon to beat on the stove so as to attract his attention. He came and carried away the loaded tray to set it on the table before his chair.

To my utter consternation he then returned, unlocked me from the stove, led me into the living room and re-locked me to a large ring set in the side of the chimney breast. At least I had warmth from the fire but what of MY supper? As he started to eat I jumped up and down and looked around for something with which I could attract his attention. It seemed my enraged jumping was sufficient.

He rose, went first to that duffel bag and then came to me with a short length of chain. He put a cushion in front of me and pushed me down to kneel on it and then, with that chain and a padlock, he looped my hobble chain to the back of my waist belt.

"Now," he said dispassionately, "Perhaps I can eat in peace. Make any more trouble, slave, and you'll spend the night hanging from that beam there." And he returned to eating while he watched the television.

I was thunderstruck, dismayed, hungry and thirsty. Why hadn't I helped myself before I called him. It took a few repeated, if silent, blood-curdling imprecations before I realised that such pilfering had been impossible. I had a horse's bit jammed in my mouth. And it must have been designed for a damned big horse. As I knelt there and watched him guzzling all that hot food I grew more and more furious but also... more and more helplessly desolated. And even more hungry!

Eventually he sat back with a sigh: "Well, woman, you certainly can cook." He poured what must have been his fourth or fifth cup of tea and then, as though on a sudden thought: "Must keep up YOUR health and strength I suppose."

He scraped the remains of the meal on to his plate and brought it to me. With a key dug out of his pocket he released the left-hand end of my gag and let it hang. "Be quick. Time for bed."

"Uhh. Not even a knife and fork? I can't eat like this," I complained and shook my handcuffs at him.

"That so? Then perhaps we had better make other arrangements. You must learn a slave's place." He went back to his duffle bag, extracted another of his damned padlocks and used it to secure the center of my handcuff chain to a ring at the front of my belt.

"Keith!"

"What did you call me? You should know that the required form of address - if you have been given permission to speak - is MASTER!"

"You will speak no more tonight. Eat... or go without. You may have all the water you require when you go to the bathroom. One more word... just one... and you sleep with the gag in place."

For the moment I was defeated. I knew Keith's insistence on safety would never allow him to leave me alone wearing a gag... but all this had been too much. I bent down and ate his leavings doggie fashion. By the time I had finished he had undressed and changed into night attire of boxers and a T-shirt. He released my hogtie chain and loosed my hands from the belt and then instructed me to clear the table and wash-up. "NOT a word!"

He held my chain while I collected the dishes and then locked me once more to the cooker while I cleaned them. Then he took me to the loo and allowed me to brush my teeth and do other things as I wished. On our return to the living-room came the cruellest blow so far; he had brought a mattress out in front of the fire with a couple of heavy blankets. I was not to sleep with him. I had been looking forward to this holiday so much and, as he chained me once more to the chimneybreast, I burst into tears.

My misery was not to last very long because sleep quickly claimed me. I awoke slowly with a feeling of cosy warmth and a happy languor; a desire to do nothing but just lie there and enjoy the moment. "Out of there. Breakfast in half an hour ... assuming you wish to use the bathroom."

The booming voice jolted me back into the recent harshness of my new world. I noticed new logs on the fire, which must mean that Keith had been busy already. The bright sunshine must have been illuminating the world for some hours; after our late night we had slept late into the morning. Next, as I attempted to roll over for my morning kiss, I was reminded of my shackles. He was unlocking my chain and jerking it to urge me toward the bathroom. "Keith, " I began, "hasn't this...?" But he held up a warning hand.

"Did I give you permission?" He reached forward and pushed the bit back into my mouth and locked it in place. Standing in the bathroom, my chain locked to the towel-rail, I strove to understand what was happening to me. With sudden fury I used both hands to tug on the chain and only then did it dawn on me that the rail was very substantial for something designed for a couple of damp towels. A whole raft of memories came flooding back; the very-solid rail along the front of the cooker; that most convenient ring set in the chimney breast; just above the bed-head the ring set in the wall the purpose of which seemed obscure at that time. But, in an ancient cottage - who was to know?

No. This place had been converted for use as a bondage retreat. Keith had brought me here for the express purpose of keeping me in subjugation. Then came another memory; his great friend... Tom, I think his name was... didn't Keith once say that he had a country hideout? And I had always understood that Tom it was who had first introduced Keith to bondage games. Had he brought me to Tom's place?

Now, belatedly, I recalled my thoughts on real slavery, the later - totally ignored - hints that I had tried to drop on Keith. The bastard was giving me my wished for taste of complete slavery, no safeword, no escape. AND I WANTED OUT. But... how? It was clear that I had no choices; he could keep me like this for the whole three weeks if he so wished. The safeword which had always left me in final control was now denied; I had no control at all over my future... well, at least for the next three weeks.

The big thought at that moment was revenge. The big word was divorce. I'd drag him through the courts and take him for a pretty penny. Could I... actually... stand up in a Court and describe my naked humiliation, see the papers gloating over my outlandish story, think of all the macho slobs slavering over me as they perused their papers? Could I watch the prosecutor hold up for public delight the gallery of manacles and chains and gags and collars and hoods that... Ooohh...".

I came to earth with a crude bump as he unlocked the chain and dragged me to the kitchen. The items for breakfast were again set out and he left me shackled once more to the cooker. Now I looked around the kitchen and saw the things I had missed before; rings both high and low in the walls, hooks in the ceiling beams ... this was bondage too far.

Yet, as I summoned him with my spoon, I knew that I would have welcomed all this had we come here for a bondage good time and I had known in advance. So...?

Once again, with my hobble chain locked to the back of my belt and my handcuff chain locked to the front, I was forced to kneel by the fire and watch him eat that lovely breakfast. To be fair he did leave me a reasonable amount but, by the time I was balanced precariously over his used plate, it was getting cold. Once again ... all I got to drink was cold water. And discretion was forced on me by that horrid bridle gag.

While I was washing the dishes he went out to the car and fetched in the old blanket we kept there. The car heater was very efficient and it had never been used but it lived there. When he came for me he first locked my cuffs back to the waist-belt and then raised the blanket; he had cut a hole in the centre which he dropped over my head. It formed a very ugly poncho-like garment which nevertheless I welcomed ... but not for long. "You must have exercise, " he explained as he unlocked my chain, "and it's none too warm out there.".

"No!" But it only came out as a long-drawn moan. On the end of that chain I hadn't a chance against him even had my hands and feet been unshackled. For the best part of an hour he towed me around the locality and the whole time I was in fear and dread of meeting someone. He stopped at one point to admire the view and insisted that, during that wait, I assume the kneeling position. There seemed no end to his invention in the humiliation stakes.

Back indoors once more he showed some pity and left me chained and kneeling by the fire while he prepared a hot drink. He held my mug for me after again loosing one side of my gag but administered a strong warning against speaking. Afterwards, warm once more and refreshed by the hot drink, I was re-gagged and instructed to kneel beside the sofa where he was reclining. There, to my fury, he proceeded to pet and stroke me as though I were a dog. A finger under my chin he lifted my head so that he could stroke my throat and he knew well the effect that was likely to have on me. My anger departed as I grew wet between the legs.

I had indeed forgotten my troubles and was breathing heavily when he suddenly stopped. "Nearly forgot. There'll be two for dinner tonight. I'm expecting a visitor. Need to get cracking."

My insides churned. He can't ... not with me like this. Can he? Well... if he leaves me with my blanket it won't be quite so.... Good God... suppose the bastard...?

"Take my advice and make that a really good meal tonight. It's a good plan to start off in his good books in case he decides he will buy you."

B... b... buy...? What the hell? If ever I needed the use of my mouth and its hardy tongue? Next thing he'll be saying is that it's the Sheik of Araby and he'll want me in a veil. Maybe several veils. I knew well how Keith could get off peeling my clothes slowly as though I were an onion.

Needless to say I was not given the chance for comment - clearly none was required. He released my feet, unlocked my cuff-chain from the belt and I found myself once more in that position which some regard as the proper place for a woman... chained to the kitchen stove!

I cooked his dinner because I had no other choice but it was fortunate perhaps that noxious ingredients were not to hand. Willingly would I have forsworn my dinner could I have seen him writhing in agony on the floor beside me. It was but wishful thinking for I was denied any control over events.

With everything ready, he took me back into the living room, re-locked the cuff chain back on to my belt but, this time, he forced me down to kneel beside the table half-way to the door. He reached up to drop the end of the chain over a deep hook on the side of the ceiling beam above me. It was not locked there but, manacled in that manner, it was impossible for me to release myself. He lifted that horrid whip: "Just remember... discipline at ALL times." Then, to my astonishment, he draped a sheet over me.

I had not long to wait. I heard a car pull up on the loose stones outside the door and Keith open to greet the newcomer. There followed a low-pitched conversation and then the covering sheet was whipped away. It was Tom! As Keith poured two drinks Tom seemed fascinated with the picture I presented... which, in truth, was hardly surprising. Keith reached up, unhooked my chain from the beam, and calmly gave it to Tom. A sharp tug lifted me to my feet and he - my prospective owner? - indicated that I was to resume my place on the floor beside him at the fire.

That was when, I believe, I reached the darkest point, the nadir, of my humiliation and saw despair looming. Even though I knew Tom... that my own husband should hand control of me over to another man was too unbelievable. Would he next remove my blanket or push his hands under it to investigate my nakedness? Would he want to sample his purchase this night?

While they ate I was called on to serve them at table; with my chain again back on the hook I could just perambulate between the table and the worktop inside the kitchen door. When they had done and were halfway through their second bottle of wine Keith moved my chain to the kitchen cooker rail and ordered me to clean up. He failed to remove my gag and so I could neither eat nor complain.

He gave me a loo-run and then I was returned to the hearthside ring beside the chair now occupied by Tom. Short though it had been my training was taking effect but, as I was about to kneel, that gentleman pulled me on to his lap as Keith appeared from the kitchen with a plate of food. My much-loathed husband released the gag then he sat and watched while his equally loathsome friend bounced me on his knee, held me by the chain close to my collar and fed me a spoonful at a time. When at last the ordeal was over he wiped my face with his clean handkerchief, kissed me, replaced my gag and then deposited me back on the floor. To finish it ... Keith replaced the hog-tie chain and finally hooded me.

For the next hour, they chatted and drank the wine paying no attention whatever to me. Clearly the carpet, the fire, the now empty wine bottle had more existence. I heard Keith heave himself to his feet, murmur a slurred "Goo'night" and I heard him close the bedroom door - it sounded as though he fell against it! Did this crass abandonment mean that I was henceforth to be regarded as Tom's possession? For ever... or just while he remained our - Keith's - guest?

Tom emitted a loud snore. Then another. He had gone to sleep! I remained there kneeling on the floor, helpless in my chains and gag and hood. I decided to risk all while some life still remained in my cruelly bent knees and tried to rouse Tom. But I couldn't find him. Had he put his feet up on something? Perhaps he had moved to the sofa?

There was a slight rattle from my chain, arms gripped me tightly, I was lifted and carried away. I tried to cry out but my fear was smothered by that damnable gag. I felt the cold air as we went outside where I was placed in the back of a car and strapped in. How far we traveled, I had no means of knowing and, indeed, I was in no state to assess. When we eventually stopped my captor, or new owner, left me there for several minutes until he came and carried me into a house where he dropped me bouncing on to a bed. I could only lay there helpless in the hog-tie, blinded, mute and very frightened.

Then I felt hands working at my waistband. My arms were pulled above my head and secured there. The hood was removed but at first the light, flooding through my tears, blinded me. Then... I recognised the face bending over me as Keith's. Probably you have long since expected that ending but, for me at the time, I doubt that anyone would believe other than that my first reaction was one of intense relief. However, as I began to realise the depth of the deception practised on me, that relief was followed by intense anger. It had been a really frightening... yes crue... experience and I could not regard it as a joke.

Indeed, it was never intended as a joke and, eventually, I was able to accept that. But, at the time, a very devil raged inside me. Keith held me in his arms and tried to comfort me... both men were somewhat afraid of the unexpected result of their prank. At last, if only through exhaustion, I ceased the fight against my bonds and gag: "I'm going to remove that contraption on your head. Promise to be good, now? No more fighting?"

Through my mind there flashed a kaleidoscope of scenarios that switched between guns, knives, poison, cliff-top falls, failed brakes, golf drivers... until sanity returned. I nodded briefly and they set to work removing the locks and freeing my head. Could it really be two short days and one night since Keith had locked it on me. I felt that many days... even weeks had passed in captivity.

He leaned down and kissed me. "Did you really think that I would sell you? Is that all the faith you have in me? Never for a minute did I think that you would be taken in by all that mummery. I'm sorry, honey... truly sorry. And I'm sure that Tom is equally... we never dreamed that you could be so upset."

I was not immediately aware of it but his hands were telling me the same message. I snuggled deeper into him: "Well... I have to admit... I've never felt quite so well guarded and safe before. And at least I now have two idiots to beat over the head. Take these things off me now, please, while I consider forgiveness."

"For better or for worse, in sickness and in health... I took you for my slave for three weeks and I insist on my money's worth. But no more nasty tricks. Huh?"

"That's not fair."

"Fairness is not for slaves. It was your wish, remember? And it is MY pocket that holds the keys."

"Handcuffs? Ankle cuffs? Do I stay on that chain?"

"All the time. No... positively... absolutely... no mercy. If you knew how gorgeous you look chained in the proper manner... ".

"Do I sleep on the floor?"

"No way. This bed is too damn cold."