Staked | tied in wood | free bondage stories

She must have been out of her head to sign with a one-horse cockeyed outfit like this. OK, so life for a would-be actress was difficult particularly for one who adamantly refused to consider the casting couch. Not that Annalise was a prude - not even a virgin if it came to that - but there were some depths to which she would not descend. And to sell her excellent body to some lecherous old... No! Love was a wonderful thing but the commercial variety simply made her shudder.

So how did she come to be stuck here like this? That sleazy office should have warned her off. As for the weasel behind the desk... she could have put up with him ogling her - after all she had that morning deliberately dressed to kill - but his surreptitious attempts... aach!

And when she had arrived on set... ON SET? Joke of the year. But the choice had been to honour the contract or walk back. In those shoes, that was a considerable undertaking. So she had gone ahead and landed up in this preposterous situation. Again briefly she struggled with the rope that held her hands behind her and around the post. Clearly there was one thing that idiot could do properly and that was to tie girls so that they couldn't escape. All that she had achieved in the last couple of hours was to seriously chafe her wrists.

In the beat-up old shack mounted on the beat-up old, indeed very old, long-wheel-base Land Rover chassis the long-haired git who called himself the Producer had barely glanced at her letter of introduction-cum-contract. Taking the sodden cigarette stub briefly from his mouth he had yelled for Salome. A girl materialised clad in a long brown skirt and oversized T-shirt and took his instructions to " ... Take Miss... Er... whatsername... Get her dressed and set up for a test shoot… Um… yes… Make it the wood scene which should be ready by now."

Salome had conducted her to a tent and given her this costume. It was a bare-shoulder gown in white, which reached to below the floor. Whenever she moved, it was necessary to hold up the skirt. "It's a period piece," was all the explanation she was given.

Then, accompanied by one Pete who carried a large tripod and other mysterious pieces of equipment, they set off through the woods to this place. Here she was placed with her back to the stake, her hands pulled back and bound and then her knees and ankles were also tied around over the white skirt. Salome observed these proceedings with more than a little interest

Throughout this woodland adventure, it had become increasingly clear that Salome was less interested in her charge than in Pete while, likewise, Pete's main interest lay in Salome except while he was busy doing his thing with the ropes. "Where the hell is Penny?" asked Salome. "She should have been here with the script and preparing Miss... er... whatsername... for the shoot."

"Never mind the script," was Pete's answer. "I brought the tripod as asked but there's no camera, no cameraman and no lights. Hell of an outfit this. I'll go see what I can find out."

"I'll come too," said Salome. "I need... "

"Whoa. What about her?"

"Oh! But you'll be all right darling, won't you? We'll not be long."

"Don't worry about me. As a matter of fact I get on well with bears."

"Great sense of humour. I like that."

"Yeah. That and ropes," but Annalise kept the thought to herself. But all that had been God alone knew how long ago. She had to assume now that she had been forgotten. From the little she had experienced of this lot it seemed a most probable outcome. She would have bet her entire paycheck that Salome was no longer wearing that T-shirt - probably not the skirt either - and had shed them in favour of a length of rope under one of the many bushes growing around this place. But winning the bet mattered not against her growing thirst, the complaints rising steadily from her stomach and...

She froze. Something was moving behind her. There were not bears in these woods she knew only too well but, with her hands tied helplessly behind her back as well as bound at the knees and ankles, she was not in a receptive mood for any kind of animal.

"Well now, what have we here?"

The voice was unmistakably male, quiet with a touch of humour, cultured - if that counted for anything - but clearly not rushing to her rescue. She twisted to her right in an effort to bring her visitor into view but found nothing. "Sorry. I'm over here. But I've no objection to playing ring o'roses and peek-a-boo."

He must have come around from her left. She saw a slim waist circled by a broad leather belt that held up a pair of tightish disreputable jeans. Either the legs were too long or the jeans were too short. Above that was a somewhat torn T-shirt that stretched dangerously across a chest that sent light brown hairs skirmishing through the open neck. There was a little smile exposing strong white teeth and, above that, a pair of blue eyes that were openly and unashamedly taking in her exhibition.

"Were you a gentleman," she began coolly, "instead of standing there ogling you would take steps to release me."

"Well, that must depend to some extent on why exactly you are tied there?"

"If it's any concern of yours I'm tied here because a couple of idiots have forgotten they left me here."

"Then you aren't left for safe keeping say… by the police?"

"Do I look as though I'm escaping?" Sharp? She was close to exploding.

"To be honest... you look... delectable." He came up close and took her face between his hands. Looking steadily into her eyes he said, in a far-away voice: "If only I weren't such a gentleman. I could kiss those eyes until..."

She couldn't suppress the giggle. It erupted into steady laughter. "There's damn little I can do to stop you."

"Could you be so unkind if you were not so suitably confined?"

"No comment." And so he kissed her - right in the exact centre of her forehead.

"I take it that you have connections with that strange film unit that's been hanging around here?"

"Strange is about the right word if you put it in foot-high capitals. They seem to have forgotten me. Unfortunately I don't recall any clause in my contract that deals with such a situation."

"Then rescue is indeed appropriate. And who better equipped for the job than a perpetual incurable dreamer."

"Ugh?"

"I've walked these woods since I was a boy. I know every tree, every path and each supports a specific fantasy of mine. I've always dreamed of finding a beautiful maiden cruelly abandoned to the perils of the deep forest, helpless and alone. I know exactly what to do."

"Like untie me?"

"My thoughts were more on stealing you."

"Steal...? You mean...? Oh, come now. I've been standing here since nigh eleven o'clock and my sense of humour is waning. Just untie me... eh?"

"I would prefer to transfer you." He leaned forward and ran his hand up the back of the post. "Very smooth. Good."

"What exactly do you mean... transfer me?"

"Demonstration." He placed both hands around her waist and, with surprising strength, lifted her straight up. Up and up she went until she felt her hands pop over the top of her stake. Then down and down until she was hanging over his shoulder.

"Hey." She squirmed around trying to dislodge the arm clamped across her thighs. He loosened his grip and she realised the mistake; unless she kept still it was likely she would dive on to her head.

He set off with a long raking stride. "White-robed maiden left bound in the woods. Abandoned cruelly to the evil dragon. Won't do. Must move her to a safe place."

"You're crackers," she said. "Do you realise that you're committing a felony. This is kidnap, false imprisonment. You can go to prison or be committed for psychiatric assessment."

"But I'm NOT an evil dragon. I'm the cavalry. Of course, I don't have a bugle and couldn't blow it if I did but I'm very good at rescuing damsels in distress."

"Oh, you've had experience at this kind of thing?"

"No. You see, living alone in these woods I don't meet many maidens let alone ones in distress. I have to practice the art of de-distressing in my imagination and I've lots of experience in that. In fact I've long had what you desperately need at this moment."

"A sharp knife maybe?"

"Out of native courtesy I'll assume that your need arises from cutting your bonds rather than my throat."

"Don't put ideas into my mind."

He hefted her across his shoulder and stooped to unlatch a gate. As he navigated a semicircle to re-close it she saw that they had entered a neat garden with a path that led up to a quaint-looking timber-built house. "Here we are," he said cheerfully. "Chez moi, as the Indians always said. Now you see, yonder open window is my kitchen and right here, where I can keep a friendly eye on the proceedings, is your new abode."

He set her on her feet but immediately lifted her again by the waist and once more raised her on high. As she descended, she felt a post rising between her bound arms and her spine. Now she understood his use of the word "transfer". She was still to be helplessly bound but simply to a different stake in a different place.

"Very funny. Now what?"

"Well, if you will remain here and provide the proverbial sight for my sore eyes... I propose to go prepare repast." For once in her life, she was speechless. By the time a retort had come to her lips, he was inside the house. Again she struggled with that damned rope but still if refused point blank to give even a millimeter.

"Hey!"

He came hurrying, a glass in his hand: "Thought you might need a drink. You're going to need all the energy you can muster if you're to slip that rope. Can't stay too long - the goodies will burn."

"Surprising the more minute things that escape the miniscule minds of men."

"Alliteration. I have always loved it. But to what, exactly, do you refer?"

"Well. To adopt your charitable nature I assume that you intend to relieve my day-long fast and rapidly rising thirst as well as your own. But how the hell am I supposed to eat and drink when I'm tied up like this? Apart from that, there is also the small matter of my clothes, which I left in what they called a dressing room. And then again there is the small matter of the protests arising from my bladder."

"Ah! Yes, indeed. Most remiss of me. In fairy stories and fantasies and romances of all sorts nobody ever needs a loo. Women are so practical. Madam, your wishes are my command."

He lifted her again but this time he carried her with a hand beneath her knees and she was held with suspicious tightness. However, he exuded a very interesting smell and she suffered the inclination neither to object nor to struggle. He carried her through the door into what was clearly the kitchen and set her down on her feet. Her eyes widened when she saw what lay on the table.

"You're NOT going to..."

"Hush. You said, with much truth, that you couldn't eat with your hands tied behind your back and I maintain that you cannot attend to necessary ablutions either. So... we have at least one thing in common. Agreement is always a pleasant arrangement. Hence I make arrangements for your release from the cruel bondage of your morning."

"You can't..." But he already was! She felt the cuffs being locked around her wrists; as they had both been heard to say - she was powerless to stop him. He removed the ropes first from around her knees and then her ankles and lastly from her wrists. "Through that door there. Meanwhile - I cook. Step through the chain."

She looked at and then tugged the steel bands on her wrists. She stretched her arms apart and tugged on the chain that joined them. She pressed her knees together at the sudden feeling that sprang in her crotch as a slow smile began to part her lips until, blushing, she fled.

She removed the long white gown and, wearing only the handcuffs, stepped into the shower. She returned to the kitchen where a most appetising smell filled the air. "Do you have a comb I might borrow?"

"I can do better than that." He was soon back bearing a complete set of hairbrushes, comb and oval hand-mirror. "I'm sure that my very dear departed Mother would not disapprove especially while you're wearing that gown."

"Did you keep her also in chains?"

"Probably the other way around - but I don't remember."

"Then my thanks go to her. I shall have to consider my attitude to her bullying son."

"While I eat it might be a good idea for you to try out my fantasy... er... number-six I think it is." So saying, he picked up one of her ropes, tied it to the centre of her chain, threw it over a fat pipe, which ran along the wall and hauled her up on to her toes. "Although I could be accused of repeating myself - you look... most delectable."

"How long do you usually keep this up?"

"In truth I never found a maiden in the woods before and so you are top of the league ... as it were. As the household favourite I regret I shall have to keep you for ever and ever without end."

"I scream with great intensity."

"But consider how difficult it is to eat with a gag in your mouth."

"Well. On condition that I get to eat... I consent to be your prisoner. For the time being, at any rate."

"Does that mean you intend to jump ship as soon as you've filled your belly with my good and expensive cooking?"

"That's just about it. And... er... while we are on the subject... I still can't eat while I'm tied up."

"Now that's the most reasonable thing you've said in the last three minutes."

It was getting dark when he finally returned. "Still my captive," he smiled and handed her a large plastic bag.

Inside she found her clothes and, on the very top, a cheque for twice the amount specified in the contract. "It would seem that you combine bullying and kidnapping with wizardry?"

"Not true. Not true at all. I merely identified myself and then pointed out that this afternoon I came across an extremely distressed young lady tied to a post, near hysterics and on the point of collapse after being abandoned in woodland for more than three hours. Such an assault on her person would surely bring retribution in the form of legions of lawyers, piles of policemen, mountains of manacles and cataracts of costs that must inevitably lead to boundless bankruptcy. I must say that the very odd... most extremely odd... man seemed extremely anxious to get rid of me."

"For that, at least, you deserve a kiss." Later, as they came up for air, she essayed: "How many kisses will it take to unlock these my cuffs?"

"Impossible," he said shaking his head sadly. Then, with a long deep and heartfelt sigh: "Absolutely and quite impossible to set a price on that. After all I found you and, as so often 'tis said, finder's keepers?"