Bound Ch. 1

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A journey into his darker fantasies.
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Have you ever envisioned what it would be like to be completely at the mercy of someone else, not knowing what that person will do to you next? Did you ever wonder how your mind and your body would possibly react if taken to their limits, exposed to pain and humiliation? If you're interested in finding out, I suggest that you accompany me on this journey.

I want you to conjure up the picture of a man in his early twenties. He measures a little bit over 6'1 and weighs approximately 162 pounds. He is slim of stature, evil tongues might even say bony, but sinewy probably is closest to the mark, because upon closer inspection you could see, or rather feel, that his muscles, although not bulkier than average, are well-defined in the important areas due to more or less regular workout.

Furthermore, I want you to imagine that man to be completely naked and in a standing position. He is, however, not standing of his own accord, because his body is attached to a metal frame in five places: On each of his ankles and wrists there are four identical leather clamps, broad and reinforced with metal on the outside, straddling his legs and his arms so that he is forming a big X. Finally, there is some sort of close-fitting metal girdle around his waist, with a thin strap of metal running underneath his crotch from front to back, and chains connecting the waistband to the frame, holding his pelvis in place.

Two spotlights are illuminating the area of the frame and the limp body hanging yet lifeless in its shackles, head lolling forwards, feet touching on a floor of dark lino. Beyond the two circles of light, the rest of the room is shrouded in complete darkness, nothing is moving, no noises or sounds can be heard, the only exception being the gentle hum of electricity coursing through the illumination machinery.

Suddenly, the creaking of a door breaks the silence. Then the sound of feet, of something or some things being put down by somebody just outside the cone of light. Without warning, a solid mass of water shoots forth toward the man, no doubt from a bucket swung at and emptied over his body. My body.

*****

I groaned awake. A feeling of wetness and icy cold pervaded my skin, tickling my consciousness into coming back to me. My head spun horribly, but I slowly started to take in my surroundings, wondering why I had come to in what was obviously not my usual resting position, soon realizing with disbelief that I was naked, dripping wet, cold and - on top of it all - unable to move. After a quick checkout, I quickly dismissed the possibility that I was dreaming, for the feeling of the real world is decidedly different from that of a dream, and accepting that I was somehow held in place, I tried to concentrate my confused brain in order to determine why I was stretched out the way I was, unable to move properly.

Still in a daze, I forced my head to look up to my right wrist. ‘Oh shit!’, I went, seeing the manacle holding my right wrist and, swiveling my head, also the one on my left. A quick glance to my feet confirmed my suspicions as I could also see my ankles enchained in the same manner. Giving my metal underwear a brief look, I stated dryly, ‘Hey, at least I'm not naked. Yeah!’. I closed my eyes and let my head drop forward, not willing to believe what my eyes had just told me, especially since I had seen Pulp Fiction at least twice and knew what happened to stupid people waking up bound and in places they had never been before. Was there a Zed lurking around somewhere?

Sighing, and with my mind the speed of treacle, I tried to reconstruct how I had ended up here. I remembered a voice, a female voice from the phone I had picked up, and... A violent shiver of cold going through my body interrupted my thought process. I shuddered. The last time I had felt so cold I was in the army while I was doing my compulsory military service. We had been spending the night outside, sleeping in tents designed for two persons, and in the early morning we had stepped outside, our chests only covered by an undershirt. It was November, below zero and I had been shuddering continuously. We went jogging and when we came back, frost that had not been there before was adorning our tent. That was the kind of cold I was feeling right then, a cold that doesn't make you shiver once, but causes your muscles to contract spasmodically for minutes on end. My teeth chattered.

‘Ah, it seems out guest is finally recovering. Did you rest well?’, a female voice from behind me enquired teasingly, mockingly, relishing in my discomfort. I could feel a shiver going down my spine, but this time not because of the cold. How long had she been watching me? I twisted my head so that I could see her, but I didn't achieve a thing, except perhaps show her how well I was held in place. An amused chuckle escaped her lips. Then I could hear her advance, not so much because of her footsteps but because of the creaking and scraping sound of her costume or catsuit or whatever it was she was wearing for this occasion. I instantly knew that this could only mean leather or latex, in all likelihood black of colour, and I thought it was rather charming that, incidentally, she was dressed up like this because of me!

‘Not bad, Dude,’ I began to congratulate myself ironically, but that feeling was kind of dampened as I glimpsed how something - a blindfold, I realized - was slipped over my eyes and tied behind the back of my head.

‘Hey!’ I cried out in protest. My captivatress ignored me and creaked a few paces away where she bent down and began to rummage in some sort of container.

‘Hey, um... Miss!’ I called her again, trying to gain her attention. She raised her torso and approached me.

‘Do you want to be released?’ I heard her whisper in my ear.

Not what I was expecting. ‘Yes?’ I said a little bit unsure, partly answering, partly questioning myself. Where was this leading? Why go to all the trouble of chaining me up, only to set me free afterwards? But I decided that this was not my problem, so I hastily asserted, ‘Yes, I want to be released,’ smiling proudly at how easily I appeared to get away from all this.

‘As you wish,’ she replied with a wicked undertone in her voice and I could practically feel her malevolent grin on the back of my head.

‘Uh-oh, wrong turn taken,’ I apprehended. I knew that something was coming, and my suspicions were confirmed as I could feel a rustle on my back. The rustle of plastic, of plastic slowly creeping upwards.

‘Aha?’ I scratched my head mentally. Was this supposed to hurt? ‘What are you doing?’ I questioned her, but horrible realization dawned in the split second the plastic bag was drawn over my head and pulled tight around my neck!

‘NOOOOO!!’ I bellowed, as the material slid down over my nose and mouth, stark terror wallowing up and seeping through me almost instantly. I twisted and shook and banged my head frantically, trying to get the bag off, knowing I could suffocate in less than a minute if I didn't succeed. But my captress was holding the bag together at the nape of my neck and adjusted to my movements so that the bag would neither slide of or, as I'd hoped, rip as a possible alternative.

Fuelled by my panic and my steadily increasing lack of air, my heart increased its pace to make up for the deficiency of oxygen in my blood, soon making me think that it would burst under the strain of keeping my body supplied, and the idiot that I am, I had of course made the mistake of screaming when the plastic was cupped over my head instead of doing the opposite, thus easily costing myself 20 seconds of air, and now I felt like I could not last much longer than 10, perhaps 15 seconds. In a final and desperate effort, knowing I did not have much air or time left, I flexed every muscle in my body as hard as I could and tried to somehow break free against all hopes, my head still tossing wildly.

It was to no avail. The manacles wouldn't budge, and the plastic was still cutting off my air supplies. My heart was pounding madly at a rate of probably over 200 beats per minute, my lungs heaving almost uselessly because despite their best efforts, they were absorbing way too little oxygen from the air.

Then, very much to my own surprise, I gave up the thrashing. Why fight when all you can do is lose. As my view began to blur and my consciousness to slip, I - faintly and as if from a distance - suddenly felt every, and by that I mean every, muscle in my body go completely and utterly limp, and a feeling of absolute relaxation and mental peace descended upon my body, mind, and soul. I was in heaven! I don't know how else to explain that experience otherwise, it probably came from the strong opiates the body emits when it is hurt severely.

But the plastic was whipped from my head before I could lose consciousness. Fresh, cool air whirled around my face and, with a gigantic intake of breath, I greedily gulped in one of the essences of life with my burning lungs. With that breath, I felt like my perception was being jolted from ultra slow-motion back to normal and reality set in again abruptly.

‘Do you want to be released?’ I heard her repeat after a while between my panting, but I couldn't answer because I was too busy breathing.

‘Do you want to be released?’ Again that question, only in a more insistent voice this time.

‘No,’ I panted like I dog, definitely not wanting to go through the same torment again that was surely awaiting me had I answered with ‘yes’.

‘I can't hear you. What was it you said?’ Now her voice was not insisting, it was threatening.

‘No!’ I replied, louder this time, my breathing slower but my heart still racing.

‘What?’ she snapped, already starting to pull the hood down again over my face.

‘NOOOO!’ I wailed as loud as I could with what power and air I had left, feeling my face go red as I squeezed out my lungs to show her my fear and desperation at the prospect of receiving the same treatment again, and, trailing off utterly spent, I fell into dark and merciful oblivion.

To Be Continued...

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