Rebecca’s shopping trip yesterday to Pacific Fair with Me was not her first one. She had already been there once before although not in the way she imagined she would be going *wicked grin*. Here is HER version of events in regard to that very first trip:
Rebecca had no idea what was happening, bound, gagged and blindfolded as she was. The woman was fashioning a hobble rope around Rebecca’s ankles while she gasped for breath as best she could on the chair. Rebecca’s wrists were pinioned together behind her, secure in locked leather cuff – enough to give her the uneasy feeling that she would be wearing them for a long time.
She had already endured what seemed like an hour of being bound on the floor of the dungeon, victim of the woman’s malicious whims. She had been gagged for a long time, the hard rubber ball jammed in her mouth, the straps tight at the back of her neck, either side of her nose leading over the top of her head, and the extra one that ran around her jaw from temple to temple. When the nipple clips had been put in place Rebecca could only whine and mumble in pain as the jaws bit into her tender nubs. Behind the blindfold she could not see what the next torture was destined to be. The woman was playing some sort of bizarre dice game with her, throwing a bulky dice to determine how each limb would be bound and how long the victim would have to endure the stringent position.
Rebecca had wound up with her ankles parted by a spreader bar, and each leg taped shin to thigh in the bent position. It made it difficult to even squirm about on her back, and she daren’t roll on to her stomach because of the pain her clamped nipples would have to endure. She had tried to undo the heavy leather ankle cuffs, but after managing to reach them with her fingers she found they were locked in place. She despaired, pleading through the gag for relief whenever her tormentor came into the room – in vain. She did not know what her fate was to be. She heard snatches of a phone conversation – some sort of delivery plan. It scared her.
There was the pain and there was the unrequited pleasure. First the butt plug was jammed in her arse, locked in place by a stainless steel crotch strap. In contrast to the filling sensation in her rear, she had been unable to deny the throbbing in her loins, but could neither reach this nor turn over to grind her crotch into the thick carpet, as she suddenly so wished to do. She was sure the woman had secured her specifically with this frustration element in mind.
When her legs were finally released, Rebecca was allowed to sit on a chair, panting hard through the gag at the exertion of being forced to get to her feet. As the woman finished tying the hobble rope around her ankles, there came the sound of the doorbell.
“Hnnnh?” Rebecca whined. What was going on?
“Stay there, girl,” the woman’s voice said. It was firm and husky, in control of the situation and confident that the bound prisoner could do nothing to avoid her fate.
Rebecca heard the door close as the woman left the dungeon, followed by muted voices. Her breathing was laboured, constricted by the corset laced tightly around her waist over the top of the snug maroon lycra skirt and top. The high heeled boots were also tight – her whole body seemed to be encased, from the harness on her head to the five inch heels.
The woman came back, unzipped Rebecca’s top and released the clamps from her nipples without ceremony. Rebecca screamed into the ball jammed in her mouth as the searing pain flooded her body and left her snorting and whimpering.
“Get up, girl!” ordered the woman. Reluctantly Rebecca did as she was told, fearful of what was to come. She was prodded across the room in the blackness, tottering in her booted heels on the thick carpet. The woman then seemed to tire of her charge’s hesitancy as they reached a step, and pulled the leather blindfold off. Rebecca blinked in the light.
The woman grinned mischievously at her. She wore a woollen skirt and a red top that showed an enviable figure, topped by lustrous blonde hair stopping at her
shoulders. Red knee-length boots completed the outfit, matching her top and bright lipstick.
“Come on,” she ordered. Rebecca looked down and saw the step, managing to get up it in the hobble rope. The woman pushed her towards the door.
“Huurrh?” said Rebecca. Was she going outside, bound and gagged and looking like a slut in short skirt, corset and killer boots?
The woman prodded her out the door. Rebecca saw a car was waiting in the driveway just outside the gate, with its boot already open. Dear God, what were they going to do to her? The woman wasted no time, towing her through the gate and pushing her without ceremony, backwards into
the boot. She barely had time to curl her hobbled legs inside before the boot shut with a thump.
She was in the boot of a car, corseted, bound, gagged, plugged and hobbled, being taken to who knew where? Surely this only happened in bondage novels, not for real? She chewed on the gag but could barely make much more than a mumbled whine. Distantly she could hear snatches of voices inside the car – faint and indecipherable.
The car backed down the drive. Rebecca lay on her side facing the rear, her nyloned knees braced against the back, her head against one side behind the rear wheel arch. The boot was not the dark claustrophobic black pit she might have expected. Illumination seemed to come about where the sun shone through the brake and indicator lights, which were accessible from inside. She looked about. There were a couple of small holes in the rear parcel shelf that suggested she would not suffocate.
Rebecca could still not believe that she was bound and gagged in the boot of a car being driven around Surfers Paradise! What would people think if they knew? What if there was an accident, even a minor nose-to-tail? The thought sent a chill mixture of fear and thrill through her blood.
She had no concept of how far they drove. Maybe it was fifteen minutes. The light suddenly dimmed and they went over a bump that suggested an underground parking lot. They slowed right down and there came the sound of other people nearby as they came to a halt. What would those people think if they knew a bound, kidnapped young girl lay helpless only metres from them?
There came the sound of car doors opening and closing, then the boot opened briefly. Rebecca saw past the sly smile looking down at her – enough to realise her thoughts were correct, and they were in a shopping centre car park.
“I’m off shopping,” the woman said peremptorily, then slammed the boot closed again. God! How could this be? She was helpless, unable to get free, though with just enough movement to be spared the cramps that might have come from poorly placed ropes. What was going to happen to her? How long was she to be left in this prison? She chewed on her gag again. Was the air becoming stuffy, or was that just her imagination? She shifted uneasily, wondering if she could get closer to that small hole. She had heard of people dying from exhaust fumes, but so far there had been no hint of such. Time seemed to slow down and she was surprised when there came the sound of clicking boot heels and the boot suddenly opened again.
“Ah, still alive, I see,” said the woman as though kidnapping a young innocent was all in a day’s work.
Then they were on the move again, sliding about in the boot as the car rounded corners. Again Rebecca had no idea of time. She tugged on her wrist cuffs and tried to ignore the presence of the big plug locked in her arse. Her nipples were still sore from the clamps, but fortunately she had not been forced to endure those on top of everything else during the trip.
They were back at the dungeon after another indefinite period. Rebecca’s ankles were released and she was hauled from the boot and hustled in through the front door again, out of sight of the general public once more, into the fantasy world of Mistress Adira’s dungeon . . .