Nature Walk · Part 2

Nature Walk · Part 2 (2/2)
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a welcome distraction to hubby’s deliberately bringing me to arousal. He seemed to be trying to speed me up, which was impossible. Any faster and I’d trip up when my ankles got entangled in the leg chains. All he’d accomplish is me flat on my face in the dirt.

He came to a sudden stop. “This isn’t working. You’re being lazy. I know you can walk faster than this.”

“I can’t…”

“Quiet!” he all but shouted, “Uncooperative and insolent, I’ve had enough. Open up.”

Oh great, I’ve done it now. I thought fast but saw no way out. Dutifully I opened my mouth wide. The all too familiar foam covered wedge went in, with the leather panel attached to the filler covering the entire mouth opening of the hood. The straps went around and over my head. There was no possible way for me to dislodge it. Any hope of offering an explanation was gone now.

Could I have gone faster? He thought so, and that’s what mattered. Hubby was a very kind and gentle man, except during bondage sessions when I misbehaved. Then he came unglued at the slightest provocation. Not only had I failed him, but I added insult to injury by speaking out of turn. I couldn’t fault him; I earned the gag.

“I’m still mad.” I heard him circling me. “Feet apart, pull that chain taut,” he snapped.

I didn’t hesitate. I was certainly in no position to defy him. He became unpredictable when he was upset. I certainly didn’t want to make matters worse.

“I have to cool off before I do something drastic. Don’t move. You stay right where you are. I’ll be back for you once I’ve calmed down.” With those chilling words I listened to his receding footsteps.

All Alone There I was, all alone in the middle of an endless barren desert. It’s eerie how quiet it can be, far beyond civilization. All those small sounds we normally tune out, cars passing, the air conditioning switching on and off, an airplane overhead, all gone. I strained to catch some faint sound from hubby, but no luck. Wherever he’d gone, it wasn’t nearby.

I was well and truly trapped; the nightmare of any bondage session. Unless hubby came back I was in a hopeless situation. If I could find some way to see I could get to the car, though what I’d do after that was another question. Maybe if I found a sharp rock I could work a slit in the hood. All I needed to do was look around for that rock…

What’s that called, a catch-22? I wouldn’t need the rock if I could see to find it; so much for that idea. Which left me with no other choice than to trust hubby would come back for me. He wouldn’t leave me out here, by myself. Even if he did, someone else would eventually show up…a year or two from now.

He’ll be back; I’m sure of it. I have to be patient. And I have to make sure I keep those leg chains up off the ground. He’d been explicit on what I had to do; if I were disobedient again he might very well drive off and leave me here all night and the next day.

He might not leave me out here forever, but the prospect of going an entire day in my present condition was a depressing thought. The worst part was being so alone. Bondage has that effect on me. To describe me as vulnerable and helpless is an understatement. I needed that hand on my arm to reassure me he was still there.

Intellectually I knew he had to be out there, watching me. Emotionally it was a far different story. My anxiety level climbs by the minute when I’m left on my own. The gag only makes a bad situation worse. I can’t even call out to hubby, to beg him to come back and not leave me all alone. We communicate so well; that’s a large part of what makes hubby so attractive. Maybe that’s why I hate the gag for how it cuts me off from the one person I trust implicitly, without reservation. I have no secrets from him, including my love of bondage.

How long did I stand there, forced to wait for hubby to return? It seemed like hours though that was likely an exaggeration. Fifteen minutes? Or half an hour? Time passes so slowly when tightly bound. It must be the boredom brought on by enforced idleness.

All kinds of disasters run through my head when I’m left alone. Hubby has a heart attack; hubby is attacked by a pack of wolves; hubby falls down a mineshaft. They ran the gamut from the unlikely to the ridiculous. For one thing, there weren’t any animals larger than a mouse out on the desert floor. In reality I knew I was safe, but I liked to pretend. It’s like riding a rollercoaster; it looks risky but no one ever gets hurt.

It Gets Better Then I felt the tug behind my head. After loosening the straps hubby pulled out that awful gag. I was so relieved I almost forgot I was still trussed up. Once again I’d learned my lesson about following bondage rules. There must be some perverse aspect of my personality that drove me to defy hubby, just to see if he’d react. Of course he reminds me he’s in charge, either with that gag or something equally unpleasant.

“How can I get through to you? We’ve discussed this many times, yet you persist in these tantrums. I thought the gag would set you straight, but no, you still disobey me.” He let go of my arm, which left me standing in one place. “You force my hand; I have to escalate the punishment.”

I didn’t like the sound of that at all. If not for the cuffs around my hands and feet I’d… I’d what? It was my idea to be here in the first place. I was bound in steel chains precisely to ensure I couldn’t do anything. Our session rules were explicit and unambiguous. I obey hubby, no matter what he wants. If I don’t comply he is to enforce the issue by any means necessary.

I heard him walk off, leaving me alone again. Now what? In the distance I heard the car trunk open and close. He must have anticipated I’d act up and came prepared. Now I really was worried, since I had no idea what he intended. I could object, which would only make matters worse. I had to accept I deserved whatever he planned for me.

When he returned the first thing he did was pick me up and spin me around several times. By the time he set me down I’d lost any sense of direction. “Hold still,” he ordered. Here it comes, though I was both dizzy and confused why he’d mixed me up first. When I heard the car trunk I zeroed in on that sound, to my right. Not anymore; for all I knew to my right would lead me out to the desert.

I felt the cuff snap shut around my right ankle, above the leg irons. It was a good fit, snug but not tight. It was hard to tell through the boot but my guess it was larger than the police style leg irons I already wore. “In case you’re curious, it’s a replica of one of those old style Darby leg shackles. There’s a chain attached to it.”

Okay, but what was the point? I could barely walk as is, so one more wasn’t going to make much difference. I was about to find out when he took hold of my arm. “We’re going straight ahead. Lift up your left foot, take a step, then the same with your right.”

This was becoming bizarre. I knew from long practice how to walk with the chains on. But, I did as he instructed. I slid my left foot forward, up to not quite the limit of the connecting chain. Then I followed up with my right foot.

Or rather I tried. Something grabbed hold of my ankle and brought me up short. Off balance and staggering I was headed down to the ground when hubby caught me. “Try it again slowly. You have on a ball and chain. With a little effort you should be able to drag it along.”

A ball and chain? I’d seen pictures but never imagined I’d be on a chain gang carrying one of those things around. Knowing what to expect I tried again. First the left foot, and then I slowly managed to move that ball with my right leg. I stopped when I was even with my left foot. This was going to be tricky. A few more practice steps and I had a working procedure; forward progress with the left leg, and then catch up with the right. It slowed me down by quite a bit but I was making progress. That snail pace with the regular leg irons? Well, with the ball I’d definitely lose the race to a snail now.

Hubby didn’t comment, so I assumed he was satisfied with what I’d worked out. I actually felt proud of myself for overcoming what I’d describe as a considerable handicap. Then my left foot landed on pavement. I’d found the road! I hoped that meant we were headed back to the car and my freedom.

I managed three more awkward paces before hubby stopped me. “I’m sure you’re aware you’re standing in the middle of the access road. All you need to do now is walk back to the car. At that point I’ll release you. There’s a catch though. You can turn to the right, or left, and follow the road. That’s something you’ve managed before. You will have to bring along the ball and chain though. Or you can choose to stand there, but you’ll have to wait at least an hour. And you’ll have to wait with the gag in place. What will it be, stay or go?”

I had a pretty good idea the car was to my right, so I had a better than fifty percent chance I’d get it right. I definitely didn’t want to stand there with that gag for an hour, which would seem like an eternity. The “at least” bothered me too; he could make me wait quite a while longer.

“I’ll go, even if I do have to drag this thing behind me.” The car couldn’t be that far away.

“Okay then, first of all…” I felt the ball and chain shackle slip off my ankle. Then he picked me up and once more quickly spun me around what must have been ten times. I was so dizzy I could barely stand when he stopped. The shackle went round my left ankle this time. I had no idea which direction to head to find the car.

“You’ll have to find your own way back to the car. It’s easy; turn the right way, keep straight, stay on the road and you’ll be fine.”

It might be easy for him but it was a bit more complicated for me. The right way, was that a clue? I wanted to clench my hands in irritation but even that small pleasure was denied to me. It all came down to those handcuffs. If I could get them off, then slip my hands out of the covers, unbuckle that infuriating posture collar, then I could finally pull off the hood that kept me literally in the dark. It was a great plan but for one tiny detail; how was I going to unlock the handcuffs without a key, and no hands?

When no miracle suddenly materialized to free me I turned to the right and began my slow hike to what I hoped was the car. By the fourth step the ball and chain replaced the gag as the most hated entry on my bondage equipment list. The short leg irons were bad enough but the weight of that ball being dragged behind me was far worse. I didn’t have much choice though so I did the best I could. Step, drag, step, drag, ever so slowly I was making progress.

I don’t know how long I kept at it. During the last of my frequent rest stops I started thinking. This was taking too long, even at the crawl I was able to manage. Should I turn around or keep going?

Hubby answered that question for me. “You picked the wrong direction. I was curious to see how long it would take you to figure it out.” A moment later I felt the cuff linking me to that ball spring open. “I don’t want you getting a muscle cramp. You can go back to the car now. We’re just about done for the night.”

It was so much easier walking without that deadweight I almost forgot my ankles were still connected. Even though I was limited to that slow shuffle it felt like I was zipping along. As I learned later, even though I had been going the wrong way I was so slow I hadn’t added all that much to my journey back to the car.

Finished Overall it had been a good evening. As usual hubby had locked me up far beyond any hope of escape, just the way I like. I got to parade around, outside, without a stitch of clothes on. Best of all I got to try out something new. With some more practice I’m sure I can do better with the ball and chain. I bet I might even be able to handle more weight once I get used to it.

Per standard procedure I was standing with my back to the side of the car. Hubby had a set way of removing my accessories. It started with the leg irons, all four sets, one at a time. He didn’t hurry, packing them away carefully in the trunk. Of all the restraints I wore, those leg chains were the least intrusive, in the sense that I could wear them all day over my boots. I know; hubby let me try it one weekend.

Next he removed that leather belt and cuffs pinning my arms above the elbows. That was an immense relief to my shoulders. Hubby even took a moment to massage them, although he did find bare arms and especially shoulders attractive. His good intentions were entirely selfish, but it doesn’t bother me.

He undid the straps to the posture collar and pulled it off my neck. Finally I could turn my head again. I’m ambivalent about the collar. Aside from the mental effect I do enjoy the restriction, especially the way it forces me to keep my head up and tilted slightly back, but at the end of the night it also leaves me sore from the abnormal position.

What’s most important though is that it means the dreadful rubber hood comes off next. Being blindfolded is by far the most effective restraint hubby imposes on me. I stare into the thin cover blocking me from the outside world and I feel so helpless. It’s only two small patches over my eyes, but the effects are profound. Like the fear level in a roller coaster ride I know I’m safe with hubby watching over me. But, and there’s always that tiny horror lurking in the back of my mind, if something were to happen to him I’d be lost, panic-stricken, trapped in a solitary prison with no hope of being found.

We were close to the end. After the handcuffs the last thing to come off was the chastity belt. This was always the moment of truth. If hubby wasn’t satisfied that I had been a good girl then I failed to earn my freedom from its sturdy embrace. If he wasn’t pleased it meant I had to keep it on for some period of time, except I wasn’t informed about how long the penalty time would last.

I was still running through the session tonight when he suddenly unlocked the belt. That caught me by surprise, since hubby was nothing if not consistent in his set ways. Off came the belt, to my relief. However something wasn’t quite right. I knew how much he enjoyed negotiating with me as to when, or if, he was going to use that belt key. Why had he skipped one of his favorite moments?

He picked me up by the waist and carried me over to the picnic table. I was deposited on the edge, legs dangling down. Hubby put a finger to his lips. “You’ll have to remain silent a while longer. If you choose to argue about it I have the gag in my pocket.” His reminder won my immediate cooperation. Hubby had become unpredictable. I normally counted on him being reliable, yet I found his new attitude arousing.

He roughly pushed my knees apart and came in very close. “Your walk tonight has stirred the beast within me.” He grabbed my hair and pulled back my head. Our eyes locked; I could not turn away. “It’s so convenient when your hands are otherwise occupied. I’m going to have my way with you, and there’s nothing you can do to stop me.”

Nature Walk · Part 2 (2/2)
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