“I was the captive in the old barn and I was very well restrained. I was there for anyone who found me to do with me as they wanted. I moaned into the gag. I struggled and wiggled my arms, switched weight from one bound foot to the other, tugging at the floor chain. I waved my hands at the empty air and twitched my aching shoulders. I used the last of the photos in the camera.
“This went on for quite awhile, but eventually I was getting tired. My feet ached from the ultra high heels and the position was killing my arms and shoulders, not to mention my chained wrists. It was now late afternoon and it was time to get loose. Only I couldn’t. No matter how I twisted my wrists, I could not loosen the chain loop. I twisted the chain one way and then the other. The loops on my wrists eased only a little bit, but did not come free. I then figured that I could improve my position a bit by getting the elbow bondage off. I tried this several times, but the sweat-soaked sleeves of the snugly fitted blouse, which was now around my upper arms and the buttons at the tops of the gloves wouldn’t let me wiggle the triple rope loop band down over the elbows. This meant that the arm band wasn’t coming off my arms and the suspension from the beam, held by my hands, would not allow enough slack. I was screwed.”
Chapter Three
Katy’s Mistakes
“I knew it,” Ellen burst out from the back seat, “too many marginal conditions.”
“Right,” said Katy. “Visions of the worst possible fate ran through my head. I would eventually collapse from the strain and my arms would be pulled from my shoulders in a modern version of the Spanish Inquisition torture of Strappado. I would die hanging there, wrists and arms bound to the beam and feet chained to the floor ring. Even if I didn’t fall, I would never get anyone to come because of the gag. The ladder was pulled up and no one would even think of searching in the barn until it was too late.
“How stupid, I thought,” said Katy to her now rapt audience.
Both Frank and Ellen were silent, perhaps putting themselves in the same situation and trying to decide what they might have done.
“I went for the knife, which I had forgotten in the midst of my fear. Reaching the sharp blade in its sheath on the garter belt at the base of my spine was very difficult. I had to bend over so far that my eyes were staring at my knees; a nice exercise in the gym, but no fun when you are hanging by your wrists and your legs are tied. I flailed my hands, my fingers trying to reach my back, and then bending even more as my hands touched my spine, seeking the hilt of the knife. It didn’t work. The rope from the beam was just too short and there was no way to reach the knife. I was scared and tired and hurting everywhere. The multiple orgasms had tired me out and I was starting to hate everything about what I had done. ‘Stupid, stupid stupid,’ I yelled to myself into the gag.
“Finally, some level of sense crept back into my fuzzy brain and I reached for the bowline knot on the loop holding my chained hands to the beam rope. I had learned to tie knots as a kid and I knew that one of the great benefits of using a bowline to make a loop, or a bight, as it was called, was that, if tied correctly, a loop made with it would not tighten up. The second value of the bowline was that even if pulled tight, the knot could almost always be undone by bending the knot first. This was my last chance, I knew. If this failed, I’d be there until Christmas. Still bent over and raising my arms to put as much slack in the beam rope as possible, I fumbled with gloved fingers for the knot. I found it and it was tight from all the strain. The extra leather in the fingers of the gloves didn’t help, but slowly, I bent the knot this way and that until I could feel that it was opening a bit, then carefully I pulled the short end through the knot and felt the loop open. My chained hands fell to my waist and the strain on my upper arms relaxed. I was free! Well, sort of.
“My next move was to pull the beam rope down and then grab the end and pull the arm band slowly off my elbows. This was hard to do because the sleeves of the blouse were soaked with sweat and the glove tops and buttons inhibited the twisted rope band from sliding down. Again, I went for the knife and this time found it. I used it to slowly saw through the rope loop and released my arms from the twisted band of rope. The chain still held my wrists and no amount of twisting seemed to work, so I concentrated on other things. It was nearly dark now in the loft and it looked and felt like a storm was coming. But now, at least I could stand up straight. I quickly reached down from behind and carefully cut the ropes around my thighs, then the knee ropes and leg ropes and then finally, the ankle ropes. This left me with the chain bound wrists, the chained feet and the gag. It was simply impossible to reach up and unfasten the knots that held the gag in place, so I figured that I would work on freeing my hands first.
“But the real mystery, the question that nagged me all through this struggle, was what had happened to the chain loop to keep it so tight? I had used these chain loops many times before and they had always worked fine. In the dim light of the barn loft, I could not see what was wrong, even by bringing my chained hands around my hip where I could see them, but not the damning link. Futilely, I tried to jimmy the link with the knife, achieving nothing except dulling the blade on the steel links.
“By now, it was late afternoon and the daylight was almost gone. I bent down and then tipped over on my side, grappling for the combination dial on the lock on the chains around my ankles. It sounds easier than it was and it took me some time and more sweat to get the right combo and unlock my feet. I struggled to get up and decided to take off the heels. This made things a lot easier. I went over to the boarded up loft door in the front of the loft and, using the knife, pried a few of the boards off enough to let some more light in and looked out. Amazed to see that my parents car was now back in the driveway up at the house, I thought about trying to get their attention. Aside from the obvious problem of having to explain why their twenty year old daughter was chained up in the barn loft in some odd costume, there was the more specific issue that with the gag I was not going to get anybody’s attention. The gag had to come off. My solution to that problem was to snag the wrapped length of the fabric that was around my head on a hook that was used for a lifting pulley, sticking out from the door frame. With some hard and slow work I got the tight face wrapping loose and it finally fell around my neck, forming a loose, but still complete noose. The knot was not coming undone without my fingers working it. I immediately started pushing the soggy fabric out of my mouth and that took longer than I thought it would, another hard lesson to remember, for sure. As I went to step away from the door frame, I discovered that the gag wrapping, while loose and around my neck, was now stuck on the hook in the frame. I was held there by the neck. Great. ‘Now what?’ I thought.”
“Hey, Katy,” said Frank. “You’ve got to tell us. How the hell did you finally get out of this? I can’t stand the suspense.”
“Well, hold on to your drawers, Frank,” said Katy, laughing. “We’re almost there.”
“The solution to my problem came unexpectedly in the form of Roger Bream, a neighbor boy who I had known all my life. I heard a whistle outside and looked through the hole in the door and there he was. He comes walking up the driveway with his dog and I couldn’t believe it. This was my salvation. It was even better because Roger and I had played bondage games as kids; him tying me up in this same barn and I tying him now and then as well, as we played cops and robbers and cowboys and Indians. It had been fun and I think we both held those times in memory. He once tied my hands over my head to a rafter in the barn and gagged me with his scarf, roped my feet together and then left me there for a couple of hours. I think he took a nap in the hayloft, but I didn’t mind.
“So, anyway, I stuck my head as close to the small opening in the barn door and called him: ‘Hey, Roger.’”
“Completely surprised, he spun around and his dog barked a shocked bark. Neither of them knew where my voice had come from.
“Up here Roger, in the loft. Can you come over and talk?”
“Katy,” he called back, still s
earching the barn for the source of my voice. “Where are you?”
“Up here in the loft. And boy, am I glad to see you. I’ve got a serious problem.”
“Oh, I see you,” he finally said, looking at the barn door but probably not seeing me in the dim light behind it.
“Open the door downstairs and come in,” I said.
“Coming. Come on, Buddy,” he called to his Black Lab. I heard the door being rattled below.
“The door’s locked, Katy. I need a key.”
“Oh shit. Kick it in, Roger. It’s just stuck.”
“Okay.” He kicked and the door flew open, slamming back against the inside wall. He was now on the main floor, downstairs.
“Roger?”
“Katy. What’s wrong?”
“I’m tied up in the loft and I pulled the ladder up after me and can’t get to it. Can you find a way to get up here?”
“Dark down here.”
“Turn on the lights.”
“Okay. Easy for you to say. Gotta find the damned switch.”
Suddenly the lights came on and I felt much better.
“There’s another ladder over here. It should reach the loft. I’m coming up.”
“Hurry, Roger, I’m really freaked out.” He came quickly up the creaking wooden ladder and was there, suddenly, standing backlit by the light coming up from the entry hole in the floor of the loft. His look was one of amused fascination as he saw the mirror and the camera. He bent over and picked up a couple of the photos and whistled. Below, his Lab barked.
“Katy, what have you done? You look lovely, by the way.”
“Yeah, well, save the compliments and see if you can get me unstuck from this hook on the wall and then we need to work on my hands.
He grabbed the wrapping material that was stuck to the hook and pulled it off, then put his hands on my shoulders and turned me around so that he could see my chained wrists.
“Nice job, Katy. This is your personal work, right?”
“Yeah. I really fucked up.”
“You weren’t getting out of this one without help. What were you thinking?”
“Don’t ask, Roger. It’s a long story and I’m embarrassed enough. Can you tell what’s wrong with the link?”
“Well, the problem is pretty simple. This master link is open just enough for one of the chain links to slip inside and stay there because you have tension on the chain. It probably got lodged there when you twisted the loop. I doubt you’d have ever gotten it off without a bolt cutter. All I have to do is open the link up a bit more and slip the chain link back out.”
“And that’s what he did. My hands came free and for the first time in hours, I could bring them forward. I turned and hugged him for a long time and then I kissed him. He kissed me back and put his hand on my wet, half-cupped breast and, well, there’s a bit more to this story, but its personal, so that’s the end of the tale.”
“Pretty good,” Ellen said quietly. “And I’d call that kind of personal as well, wouldn’t you, Frank?”
“Oh yeah. Been there. Done that,” said Frank, a bit too casually.
“Did the storm come?” Ellen asked.
“Oh yeah, it rained like the devil, but somehow neither of us noticed,” Katy said quietly. “But Frank, you mean you’ve screwed up self bondage too?”
“You bet I have.”
“So you have no problem with fleshing out my fantasy when we get to camp?” she asked, somewhat wary now.
“Not at all, as long as you respect our privacy as well, we can have a great time. One rule though…” added Ellen.
“Let me guess,” interrupted Katy.
“Okay, but actually there are two.”
“Fine. If I guess them right you guys are going to have to put me up for the night, literally, because I have been dying to do a suspension and I just can’t do it safely at my apartment; blindfold, gag, the whole enchilada.”
“Sounds like blackmail,” laughed Frank. “But if you guess both rules correctly, you’ll get suspension, but for openers, probably on the basement wall. If you only get one, we get to pick the setup and if you don’t guess any, we just throw you in a cage for the night and go have our own fun.”
“Boooooo,” said Katy.
“Boo yourself,” added Ellen. “If you lose, I get to play with you for the night.”
“Oh,” said the girl carefully. “I’m not sure I’m ready for girl on girl stuff, Ellen. No offense, but I haven’t had a female partner since college, and then it was my roommate who was about as kinky as I am.”
“Well, let’s see if you know the rules. Go ahead.”
“Okay. Rule number one: do no harm. Hurt is ok, but no harm. No permanent damage; bruises maybe, marks okay, but no permanent scars. Right?”
“Good,” said Frank, sounding impressed. “Next.”
“Always agree on safe words, safe sounds, alarms, etc. And that’s even more important than the first. In fact,” added Katy. “That’s prime.”
“Agreed,” said both Frank and Ellen together. Everyone was silent while they digested that wisdom.
“But hey,” Katy suddenly piped up. “This is really acting out a classic fantasy of mine, so can you improve on my situation, Ellen? I mean, a gag would really be nice and maybe you can tie my legs…and a blindfold, maybe? And then you can just dump me in the back with the rest of the cargo for the remainder of the trip and enjoy your time together since I just won my choice of suspension for the night.”
“Damn,” said Frank. “This accountant drives a hard bargain.”
“I think we’d better make a potty stop first. We’re about two hours away, maybe longer if this snow keeps up,” said Ellen. “And, while we’re stopped, I’ll get you to sign our standard kidnap release.” Everyone laughed.
They were silent for a few minutes and then Frank said that rest areas were up ahead and he would stop. “Anyone need a break?” he asked.
Everyone said “Yes” at once and a minute later, they pulled into a large truck stop and rest area. Ellen removed Katy’s cuffs and they got out. The snow was accumulating on the freezing ground and truckers were pulling in to stay for the night.
When they returned to the car, Ellen asked Katy if she’d rather be in the back seat and the girl said yes, so she climbed in, took off her jacket, gloves and scarf, then presented Ellen with her wrists held behind her. Ellen glanced at Frank, who rolled his eyes and grinned crazily and Ellen put the cuffs back on Katy. The girl slid over to the right side of the seat and put her booted feet up on the seat next to Ellen. After a moment’s consideration, Ellen closed the rear door, went to the back of the SUV, popped the lid and rummaged in the pile of groceries, luggage and packages. She picked up something, closed the lid and hopped back into the shotgun seat. Frank put the truck in four wheel drive and they were back on the interstate highway while Ellen leaned over and tied Katy’s feet with a length of nylon rope, finishing it off with a cinch between the boots.
“How’s that?” she asked her willing captive. “Too tight?”
“No, its fine. I am just wondering what kind of crazy person you think I am,” Katy said pensively. “No sane girl jumps in a car with friends or clients and says, ‘tie me up.’”
“Not to worry, Katy. We think the world of you and are very pleased that you are into the same things we are,” said Frank. “However, your overtly vile and candid behavior thus far will probably merit an intro to our discipline program for young girls who are too forward.”
“Such as?” Katy posed.
“You are going to get your little ass warmed up and I will do it personally,” said Frank, trying to look stern, but grinning evilly.
“Well,” said Katy, “that will be fun. If you’ve ever tried to paddle yourself, you know that it is singularly unrewarding, so you have my permission to lay on, old man.”
“Old Man?” Ellen and Frank said together.
“I was using that in the British sense, which has nothing to do with age
, you two,” Katy fired back.
“Damn,” said Ellen. “That deserves a gag.” And she turned around in her seat and stuffed a brightly colored dinner napkin into Katy’s ready mouth.
“Mummph, uuunh woolng,” sputtered the girl, as Ellen slapped on a piece of clear packaging tape and then another until Katy’s mouth and chin were covered in tape.
Long before the trio arrived at the camp, Katy was happily trussed up in the back seat, humming merrily to herself through a gag. Her scarf was serving as a solid blindfold and her elbows had been tied behind her with more of the nylon cord. Duct tape from the console between the front seats had been added at Frank’s suggestion. While Frank drove along the now dark highway, Ellen busied herself in the back seat, following Patty’s instructions and obviously enjoying herself while she tied the girl’s legs at the knee and put a thin, sequined dog collar around her neck. A matching leash went from the collar to the overhead clothes hanger fitting on the side of the truck’s cabin and served to keep the girl from getting away, they all agreed. The final touch, while they were still miles from their destination, was a short length of rope from Katy’s feet to the inside rear door handle, stretching her out nicely in the leather seat. Before the gag went in, Katy had looked Ellen straight in the eye and said: “Since you’re into women, once you get me tied up, you can do anything you want with me, right?” and then she winked and added “this work shirt is really tight and hot. Maybe you can take care of that, huh?” Ellen put the gag in and that was Katy’s last word for the next few hours.
Sitting back in her seat, Ellen wondered exactly what the girl in the back seat had in mind with her last remark.
“Think I should molest her a bit, Frank?” she asked. A loud affirmative hum came from behind them.
“Oh hell, why not?” said Frank. “Might as well see what’s under all that business attire.”
“Yeah, I suppose so. Think she’ll turn out to be flabby, flat and fat?” Ellen said with a smirk, knowing full well that Katy’s figure was a nine or a ten and that they both had seen enough of her during and after work to know that the little blond accountant had nothing to be ashamed of in terms of looks.
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