No Free Ride | tied, chain, keys | free bondage stories

For long distance travel, I've always preferred to drive at night. For starters the traffic is usually less dense and therefor it is possible to drive for long periods in the comfort of full headlights. Then again the lights of oncoming vehicles give warning not only of their approach but also of the bends curves and other antics of the road ahead. Furthermore, when coming up behind a large or slow-moving vehicle, the hazards of overtaking are eased by the headlight code whereby it is possible to exchange information with the other driver.

Long ago, through frightening experience, I formulated a rule that I never drive for more than two hours at a stretch; a fifteen minute break, during which I make a point of leaving the vehicle, has an effect opposite to that which many would suppose. Because the mistakes that come with fatigue are prevented, these regular breaks actually decrease the time taken to complete a journey.

My life began to change around one o'clock in the morning shortly after I had resumed from one of these breaks; it has to be said that I was glad to get back into the warmth of the car but there is nothing quite like a blast of cold air to counteract sleepiness. Below the windscreen, where I could view it through the spokes of the wheel, the speedo needle was climbing toward sixty when movement of some sort attracted my eye. It was at least two hundred yards away, and mainly visible simply because it moved, but I took my foot off and allowed the car to run down. Just a couple of seconds and the object resolved into a human form.

In the middle of a cold and very-dark night, in the middle of absolutely nowhere ... why would anyone be walking? With the thought came the added conviction that I was looking at a female form and I switched into defensive mode. This woman was walking in the same direction but I had not passed any broken-down vehicles or wrecks? Her strange gait could be explained by her being frozen half to death but even so... what was she doing out here?

I pushed the button to lock all my doors and opened the passenger-window as I drew alongside. "You could use a little help, I imagine?"

For a moment she continued to walk; then she stopped, looked into the car and said: "Thanks, but I'll be OK."

"It's possibly five hours to dawn and at least another two before the sun gives much warmth. You're not dressed for moor walking at night. You must decide between whatever risk I present and that of freezing to death."

She was clearly hesitating. I released the locks and opened the door thus allowing a blast of warm air over her. Abruptly: "Thanks."

To judge by the awkward way she got in she must have been even colder than I thought. "Seat belt?" She made no response and so I leaned across, pulled out the belt and secured her.

She wasn't in a talkative mood and, because I prefer not to chat while driving, I paid little heed to her; plenty of time to enquire about her destination. But, two or three minutes later, came another sign of movement on the road ahead. As again I eased off on the right foot, there came a distinct feeling of deja vu: "Christ! How many of you are there cruising around tonight?"

"It'll be my friend, Mary. We fell out... she went on ahead."

"Would have thought you old enough to know better."

Mary was walking on my side of the road: "Your friend's in here. Won't you join us?"

"Go to hell."

"It's a cold night to be unfriendly. If you decide to stay out there ... make sure you don't go to sleep."

"As I said... go to hell."

I drove on and closed the window. But... there was something about Mary that I couldn't quite figure. I was somewhat intrigued also by the silence of my passenger. I would have been not at all surprised had she intervened in that short exchange. Equally, in the warmth of the car, I would have been surprised had she stayed awake. Then things began to slot into place. I pulled over. She started a protest, purely verbal, as she felt my hand slide down her arm; it was just as I had begun to suspect... she was sitting with her arms behind her. I pushed in between her and the seat back... she was handcuffed!

No wonder she had found it awkward getting into the car! And that something about Mary had been her unusual stance; clearly she too had her hands manacled behind her and had been at pains to keep them hidden from my view. Somewhere along the line they had escaped from custody - or capture? - but to escape those handcuffs was a different matter entirely. Had they been victims of kidnap I would have expected an appeal for help. Almost certainly they were fugitives. And up here in the dark, handicapped by being bound, they had no option but to stay with the road.

I pulled the keys from the ignition and went to the back of the car. I opened the boot and extracted the three lengths of rope I kept there for securing luggage then rummaged for the scarf and the napkin that I knew happened to be in there. I closed the boot and returned to the passenger door.

As I opened it she looked at me with obvious - and understandable - alarm but, cuffed as she was, she couldn't escape from the seat belt. I tied her feet together and anchored one end of the rope to the frame of the seat. I tied a knot in the middle of the scarf and pushed it into her mouth, with surprisingly little objection on her part, and secured it behind her head.

"I'm afraid," I offered conversationally, "you've jumped from the frying pan into the fire. You see, I make my living trading in... erm... such things as yourself. Now, while you were an unknown quantity to me, you were perfectly safe. However, you're obviously on the run ... I neither know or care how... and your disappearance can't be traced to my door. Hence I welcome you to my establishment."

I closed the door, went to my own side, climbed in and started the engine. I turned the car and started back along the road we had just traversed. Mary was not to be seen. I turned again and drove slowly examining the country to either side rather than the road itself. About a hundred yards and I saw movement in the brush off to my right; not a body of any sort but a single bush that was in motion in a sea of tranquility. I braked and swung the car so that the headlights illuminated that area.

It didn't take long to run her down. A scratch across her face showed that she had fallen and no doubt her arms and shoulders were stiff from the relentless grip of the cuffs. I tied her feet and gagged her too, lifted her to my shoulder and started back for the car. Then, in the distance, I saw the loom of a vehicle's lights. It might be a police patrol?

I dumped Mary on the ground and hog-tied her by tying the end of the rope to her handcuffs. "If that's a police wagon," I said, "you'll have to decide whether to come with me or with them."

Then I ran to the car; I pulled out the other girl and hog-tied her in a similar manner. Next I straightened the car, because it would look less odd that way and because it meant its lights no longer illuminated the scene of my recent chase. Then I shouldered my passenger and hastened her off the road somewhere in the direction of Mary.

That car was getting pretty close and so I dropped her and, bending low, ran back and unzipped my fly. With my luck it had to be a police car ... and it was. It came cruising along with a spotlight raking the country from side to side of the road. When they were some seventy yards away I stood up and went through the motions of pulling up my pants and then zipped up as I made my way back to the car. Their curiosity was not unnatural after discovering a car parked on the side of the highway, miles from anywhere with headlights blazing and with the clock registering somewhere around 1.30 in the morning.

I gave them a cheery 'good morning' as I patted my clothing back into a proper state. "I take it this is your car, sir?"

"Y'yes, at least it was when I got taken short."

"I presume you can tell me the registration number, sir".

"Sure," and I obliged.

"Sorry to be awkward, sir, but I'm sure you understand... it's our job to enquire into odd happenings. May I ask where you are going?"

"Home, actually. That's why I've kept going. I'm never quite sure exactly where I am on these moor roads but my speedo says it's about fifteen or so miles to go. Next crossroads... when they have the decency to show up."

"Oh. Now I think I know you. You must be the owner of that farmhouse in the middle of nowhere. How long is it you've been there now, sir?"

"Err... coming up for three years."

"That long? Never run into you before?"

"Well, I spend a lot of time out on the road. But I like it all the more when I get back; I'm fond of my own company in quiet places."

"Just my curiosity, sir, but what do you do for a living in that place?"

"I'm a computer nerd. I do most of my work from home but, every so often, there comes a demand for my body as well as my so-called intelligence."

"Yes. Certainly, if you're good at it, there's no lack of income in I.T. I don't think I'd care to live out there though but, if it's your choice, I can only wish you luck sir."

After I had produced identification and they had taken a quick look into the car they became aware of the rapidly descending temperature out there on the moor, expressed themselves satisfied, climbed back into their own vehicle and departed without waiting to see me take off. However, just in case, I twisted round to recover my flask and sandwich tin and so let another five minutes elapse.

When I picked up Mary she was shivering with the cold; I laid her facedown on the back seat and secured her there with the seat belt and then wound up the heater. Her comrade, as yet unnamed, was in a similar condition. I set the passenger seat into the full recline position and laid her face down on that and secured her with the last length of rope. Then I made all haste for home.

You might regard my house as a bit of an oddity - which perhaps is why that policeman knew of me. It must have started out as the home farm of an old establishment that supported a whole mini-village of people; I made that judgement by considering the extraordinary collection of outbuildings and amenities which it sported. It was of solid stone construction with six bedrooms and three reception rooms but it had very-small windows none of which faced north. In the winter months those small windows came into their own, especially now that they had been fitted with double-glazed units, and roof insulation had been added too. Someone had spent a lot of money on it but, probably because of its isolation, I had acquired it for a ridiculously low price. Indeed the property was not of any interest to would-be developers.

Miraculously, thanks to the route taken by overhead distribution lines, I had mains electricity laid on but, as you might expect, this was subject to interruption in winter and so an outhouse concealed a small diesel generator. Another small building housed five ton of coal and another was filled with logs so that, with a well-maintained larder, I cared not for the isolation or the weather... always provided that I could actually get there!

In such a place at two-thirty on a cold wintry morning I had little fear of observation as I carried my captive ladies into the house. At first I had left them in the car while I opened up, switched on some lights, wound up the heating, set a match to the ready-laid fire and started the necessary preparations for hot food and drink. Only then, with them sitting helplessly against the wall, did I start to regret my impulsive prank.

Of course, had I really been a slaver there would have been no difficulty whatever and, for now, there wasn't. But what the hell would I do with them when the fun was over? Their handcuffs did not present a problem ... for me; it was months since I had enjoyed any bondage games ... since Jenny left, in fact ... but I still had the toy-chest which included several keys for various kinds of fetters and cuffs. The realisation that the girl beside me was in irons and, strapped down by the car's safety belt, had been all but helpless had triggered off a mischievous stunt. My statement to her that she was the victim of a slaver was really given in the spirit in which we had conducted our sex-games but the advent of the police patrol car had somewhat screwed-up the whole thing and, on reflection, it now seemed a bit daft and unnecessarily unkind.

But all those things could wait; for now the important thing was to get them warm, fed and relieved of the discomfort that the cuffs must be causing. Heaven alone knew how long they had been in restraint. Then I recalled that they appeared to be fugitives and resolved that I would not immediately abandon my intended game.

As I said the house is solidly built and I had added a few touches to facilitate the games. I went upstairs, dragged out the toy-chest and extracted the four spreadeagle chains that, each about four-feet long, had a single cuff on one end. I also procured a standard handcuff key and several padlocks. Downstairs again and I locked a cuff to each of the girls' wrists and then chained them one to each side of the fireplace on the big iron rings that I always said were misplaced door-knockers. Then I untied their feet, removed their handcuffs and left them to deal with their gags.

When I returned about ten minutes later carrying the big tray laden with coffee pot, sugar bowl, hot milk and a couple of softening cookies, the merry sound of tinkling clanging chains switched abruptly to a silent barrage of glares. I put down my cargo on the coffee table, which I pulled closer to the fire: "I've yet to learn your name?" I used my most pleasant conversational voice as though all was perfectly normal.

For a moment she hesitated; then, I suppose bowing to the inescapable, she offered in a similar unemotional strain: "My name was given me by a sadist... it's Olympia... but most call me Olly."

"Olly will do fine. I approve. I hope you both drink coffee? I don't mind making tea for you but I don't drink the stuff myself and so I don't have any."

Mary still remained silent and looked as though she had swallowed a hedgehog but, said Olly: " Coffee will do fine especially as it looks hot. And... er... thanks."

"Don't mention it. Civility costs nothing, after all. It's not often I have company to entertain. This is just to hold the worms at bay while the good stuff is heating."

With a metallic musical accompaniment they each accepted a cup and a forlorn aged cookie and disposed of each with a speed that spoke louder than any words. While I was dispensing refills Olly said: "What now? What are you going to do with us?"

"To be truthful ... I haven't had time to consider that ... not properly. I think the first consideration is to get some hot food into all of us and then get some shut-eye. I've no idea, of course, just how you spent your day but I seem to have been driving ever since Adam was a lance corporal. But time has moved on to our side and that lot ought to be hot by now. Afraid it's all come out of tins but, in the middle of the night...?"

The fire was starting to get enthusiastic and I noticed Mary edging away from it. But they were both looking in better shape and I left them with their hands wrapped around a third mug of coffee brew.

I removed the chain from each girl's right hand and used it to extend the other so that they could sit at table. They both put away an astonishing amount of my pseudo-culinary effort before I crossed to the chiffonier and opened the small end cupboard. "This is my usual second course. Are either of you brandy drinkers?"

They looked at me as though I had gone completely mad. Mary, as usual, remained silent but Olly shook her head. "Well then, it's high time I started your education. This is a very fine example but you mustn't drink it... it will likely strangle you. Brandy should be warmed with the hands and with loving care, inhaled and sipped... in minute quantities... a little at a time. I'm not being mean with it... you'll find such a wee drop more than adequate... it will send you into a comfortable frame of mind wherein you will sleep."

Mary picked up her glass and eyed it suspiciously. She gave it a quick sniff then plonked it back on the table. "My dear girl. You MUST be more respectful. That is truly one of the nectars of the gods."

Without realising it I was wagging an admonishing finger under her nose; she drew back her lips into what I can only describe as a snarl and looked as though, should I dare to bring it closer, she would bite it. "If you were to bite me," I began, "you would spend the night hanging by your heels from that hook up there. Not that I'm afraid of you ... living up here on the moor, with wild animals all around, I'm bang up to date with my anti-rabies shots."

Mary's lip began to quiver and then, rapidly, her face seemed to break into a strange writhing motion. A quick look at Olly revealed that she was wreathed in smiles and then I got it ... Mary was losing a battle with a steadily rising giggle! I said gently: "You look so much better when you do that instead of scowling."

"But," I went on, "it's gone four o'clock. If we're to do anything at all with tomorrow it's time we went to bed. Ladies, take up thy drinks and walk... this way."

I unlocked Mary's chain from the wall and let it drop to the floor. As I crossed to do the same service for Olly so Mary, whether in a spirit of rebellious self-assertion or perhaps defiance I know not, picked up her glass and downed the brandy in one swallow. She paid for the gesture by ceasing to breathe for a frighteningly long time. I supported her with an arm around her waist until, with a red and tear-streaked face, she began to regain control. "That, " said I severely, "was a shameful waste of good spirit. I warned you it would bite back."

In a hoarse whisper she replied: "Ah. But the afterglow." I was rapidly reforming my opinion of that young lady.

Trailing their chains I took them upstairs to the bedroom which sported two single beds. On entering they both appeared a trifle shell-shocked. Olly pointed with disbelief to the feminine nightwear laid out. "I had a girl-friend with more clothes than sense. But when she left ... she had the good sense to abandon what she couldn't carry."

"But I thought you said ... ". Olly appeared to think better of it and trailed off into silence.

"Ah, yes. You think I trade in women ... and so you expected to spend the night in my cellar chained to the wall? Just a little joke, my dear, which arose out of my past history of bondage games. Still, just for the hell of it, I intend to leave you trailing those chains. If nothing else it might dissuade you from trying to leave."

"Leave? In six inches of sno..." I looked at Mary in surprise.

Olly said: "Might as well tell him... now you've spilled it."

But Mary remained stricken with one hand covering her mouth. Olly again: "She knows this house. She was kept here for several years. She said, after you first brought us in from the car, that it was going to snow and that meant we would be here for weeks probably."

"And she is afraid that, because she can identify me...? Look, you're not in any danger from me - either of you. I went daft for a moment and decided to have a bit of fun; been wondering ever since how I was going to get out of it. Perhaps you'd better tell me ... then we can all sleep on it." While I was saying this, I crossed to one of the small windows; she wasn't kidding... there must have been at least six inches of snow and the wind was starting to pile it up!

"Looks like you were right; we're going to be snowed in. But ... how could you tell? How come you know this house?"

Mary sat down on the side of one of the beds and began to fidget with her chain. "I knew you were no slaver!"

"I never knew my parents. I went into a home when, I believe, I was about six. It was a dreadful place and I ran away after a couple of years. They found me and took me back but I took off again. After the third time I was sent to a different place where there was a dirty old bastard who regarded all the girls as his private property. When I defied him he tied me and... " She stopped for a while: "I must have been about eleven when I hit him under the chin ... " she demonstrated an upward strike using the heel of her hand. "Laid him out and ran off again. I was picked up by a woman in a car; she offered me a lift but, as I was getting in, she grabbed me by the hair, hauled me across the seat and into her lap and proceeded to tie my hands behind. She gagged me and then tied my feet. I lay in the back of that car for what seemed hours and arrived at this house. I was here for several years; it was a sort of training place where they brought a lot of girls. I saw many of them break and submit but I only pretended to. We were used and abused; we were sent out to be the entertainment at house parties; eventually I was sent somewhere else - believe I was sold. Anxiously, "You believe me?"

"Much of what you say would explain some of the odd things I've found around the place. Certainly would. Go on."

"If you want proof I can probably show you a few surprises you've not yet discovered. Like their dungeon? With Olly here, I was sent on again. There was just the two of us cuffed in the back of the car but the driver was too fond of a liquid lunch. As we approached a long bend he slowed right down - think he was confused - and I kicked him in the back of the head. We crashed and the car rolled over; all four doors burst open which was a bit of luck for us ... with those cuffs on we couldn't have picked the locks even if we'd known how. We were OK but I'm pretty sure he was dead. We searched his pockets but he didn't seem to have any keys for the cuffs and we took off."

"But what were you intending to do when I found you?"

"No idea. The first time I had been free - if you can call it that - ever that I can remember and I had no ideas at all - just to keep on going. Didn't seem to be anyway out of those cuffs."

I looked at Olly; she was nodding her head in obvious sympathy. "Mine is nothing like such a gruesome story. I was grabbed from a ladies loo at a New Year party about two years ago. Doubt if anybody missed me. I was being... er... trained... I think they call it... along with Mary."

"Have you no friends, relatives, a place of your own?"

"Whatever I had will be history by now. But what are YOU going to do with us?"

"As someone once said, or wrote, or sung ... or something ... Here's a fine how-de-do. Here's three so-called grown-ups, in one hell of a mess and none of us has any idea of where to go next. Ladies ... go to bed ... we'll have plenty of time to think it out while this snow clears."

I started for the door but turned back and tossed the keys on to the nearest bed. "Good night."

It was another hour before I finally fell into bed more weary than I thought possible. In view of the sudden weather change, typical of the moor, I had to put the car away and then tour the establishment to ensure that my water-lines, pumps and so on were all properly protected. To be snowed in up there with the system crippled doesn't bear thinking about. Snug in bed I turned my mind to the two girls and their story but I didn't get more than three seconds along the way before I awoke.

The house was silent, deathly silent, and then I remembered the snow. I rolled over slowly and peered at the clock... ten past nine. Then, with a bit of a shock, I remembered the girls. After their ordeal yesterday I imagined they would sleep the clock round and so I lay there for a while considering what was to be done and finally got up, went quietly downstairs and started to do clever things with the coffee pot.

Laden with a coffee tray I returned upstairs and knocked on their door; no answer. I was halfway back to the stairs when I changed my mind and went back to their room intending to leave the tray. If the smell had the same effect on their olfactory senses as it was having on both my own nose and my stomach I guessed they wouldn't stay asleep much longer. But I found myself under attack by two pairs of very-wide-open eyes that peered out from under the covers.

"I trust you both slept well? It's gone ten, a lovely day outside, cold as hell but beautifully quiet; in fact a perfect day for lying in bed but, if you want some brekker, then start moving less you want me to scoff it all."

As I poured the brew, Mary sat up to the accompaniment of a musical jingle. I noted with some pleasure how different she looked ... gone was the scowl but, in its place, was a timid - almost frightened - look. "You're still in those chains?"

"We're not used to comfortable undisturbed sleep," she replied. "Kindness and any sort of consideration is also strange to us too. We woke some time ago and talked this over between us. We ... we haven't anywhere to go and no folks that we are aware of... we... we'd like to stay here. But you see... the only thing we have to offer is... ". She pushed back her covers to reveal that she was well and truly cuffed, hands and feet, and was chained to the bed. I turned to Olly to find that she was displaying the same state of bondage.

"We crept downstairs and retrieved the irons from last night. The keys are hanging on the back of the door over there. That makes it all your decision."

Will you believe that I was dumbfounded? I was that confused I drank the coffee myself instead of passing it to them. I bought myself some thinking time by making a return trip to the kitchen for clean cups and, while I was at it, collected a refill for the coffee pot.

"Do you realise what you just said? You've rendered yourselves totally helpless and given me carte blanche, a blank cheque. We're snowed in; there isn't a chance in hell of any sort of rescue; the nearest human, even if he is mobile, is probably seven miles away. Nobody knows you are here. You certainly live dangerously."

Olly said simply: "We don't agree. We've both had some experience of men... you might say a unique experience... and we think that, whatever you decide, we're quite safe. Certainly more safe than we were before. But we want it to be your decision."

It was flattering ... yes. It was also startling. I downed yet another cup of coffee. "Look," I said, "we've all the time in the world. Let's get on the outside of some food and then we'll talk. Meanwhile... I'll try to decide between pitching you out into the snow, making you honorary housekeepers or simply keeping you as slaves. In chains, of course. But, in that event, I shall have to insist on your showing me where that dungeon is."

I retrieved those peripatetic keys and tossed them back once more on to Mary's bed. There was a strange little smile taking residence on her pale face.

"Now... get up, get decent and get downstairs. Whatever... this bodes well to be one hell of a Christmas?"