Time passes slowly when you are in captivity.
We all see images on television all the time, yet to be actually confronted with the absence, or even the denial of freedom, brings a startling effect.
I sat alone, cramped, in the wooden cage for what seemed like an eternity, ears straining for the slightest sound from the world around me.
Through the passage of time the mind plays tricks, and sounds, both real and imagined, play on the mind like the echoes of an ambient symphony- elusive, ever beyond the perceptive range of hearing, the silence itself so deafening you could hardly imagine a more all encompassing barrage of sounds…
…of nothing. The absence of sound itself.
Denied of sight, hands tied above my head and legs crossed before me, I began to let my mind wonder and in doing so began to ‘place’ my conscience around my body. I practice yoga, I also meditate, so the concept of placing consciousness around one’s anatomy is not unknown to me.
My wrists…tired from the position they found themselves in, blood draining from my arms and hands to create the numbness in my fingers.
My body…cramped from the position.
My stomach…growling now that the initial rush of excitement, the danger, the abandonment of freedom to the mercy of another had passed. Normal feeling began to return, but still there was the fear.
What would come next? The ordeal would continue, and something told me it would only get worse.
I had no idea how much worse until a car parked in the drive outside and a female voice greeted my captor.
She had invited a close friend.
Laughter echoed through the walls, and my ears strained to catch what was being said. It is inaccurate to say that the other senses of the blind become sharper when sight is denied- it is more accurate to say simply that one affected with sensory deprivation for any length of time learns to use their other senses, if they are willing to stop the voices and sounds of memory in their head and actually listen to those senses.
After a while, the door to the garage opened and a gasp of pleasure came from a new voice.
“Oh, so that’s who you’ve got in here! How wonderful!”. My stomach felt the cold knot of fear again as two pairs of feet lightly tripped down the stairs and the padlock on the front of the cage was opened.
“Can I spank him?” asked the new voice- deeper, sultrier, accented with a tinge of European.
“His punishment is to be tickled, not spanked” chastised my mistress.
“Oh please!” said the newcomer, “I won’t damage him, I promise”.
“Just a little then” said my mistress as the cage door opened and she unlocked my hands from their bounds. “Outside” she ordered me, pulling at my shoulder.
The relief through my aching wrists was short lived as I tried to crawl out on my hands and knees and, for my pains, received a short, sharp blow to my buttocks. I did not cry out, but tried to hurry all the same.
“On your knees!” ordered my mistress, “hands behind your back”. I complied and rough rope tied my crossed wrists again.
“Stand up” she said. Now her voice changed- gentle, more seductive. “How are you? Feeling cold?” she asked.
I nodded, trying not to let my teeth chatter. The garage did not have any heating at all and I could not feel the stone floor much beneath my frozen bare feet.
“Let’s get you warmed up, then” she said, voice still gentle.
They guided me up the stairs and into the house. Through the kitchen to the hall and from there up the stairs. They giggled as they guided me, one arm each to prevent my falling, and I was pulled up the stairs to the first floor.
Laminate wooden floor gave way to cold tiles as I entered what I thought was a bathroom, and the sound of a shower came on.
“Time to warm you up” said my mistress, tugging at the belt on my jeans. “Let’s get these clothes off you”.
“But mistress” I began- nudity was not part of the agreement, or so I thought.
“But nothing!” she corrected, “you’re freezing, and we can’t have that!”. Expertly, they opened my jeans and pulled them down to bunch at my ankles. A second pair of hands pulled my boxer shorts down and the newcomer gave a gasp of surprise.
“What a wonderful bottom! I had no idea he was so developed!”.
Shame came through the cold- to be bound was one thing, but to be stripped naked by two women whilst blindfold was almost more than I could bear. My resolve was beginning to weaken. Treat a man like a prisoner, take away his rights, subject him to indignity, and he will begin to adopt the psychological profile of a browbeaten man.
A pair of hands, now easily identified as my mistress, helped me balance as first one leg was helped out of my trousers and shorts, then the other. A sudden crack echoed through the bathroom as the newcomer laid the flat of her hand across my bare buttocks, drawing an involuntary grunt of pain.
“Don’t be too hard on him…yet” my mistress said, the smile evident on her words. My hands were untied and the newcomer took my arms, pulling them down whilst my mistress unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it from my shoulders, riding the fabric down and off my arms. The newcomer lifted my arms high then whilst my mistress’ cool fingers slipped under my t-shirt and glided it up my chest, over my head, and off to be discarded.
Now naked but still blindfold, my hands were re-handcuffed behind me and I was guided into the shower to stand under the warm water that was, for now, my only relief.
Fingers probed my ribs there, drawing a laugh from my mouth as the newcomer dug into my torso and almost made me fall over as I doubled up to avoid the assault. I tried not to laugh but failed and ended up on my knees with the water cascading down over my head.
“Leave him be” said my mistress, and I became aware of sounds. The clack of slippers on the floor, the sounds of a belt unbuckled, fabric rustling and bare feet stepping onto tile. More fabric, and the crumple of a garment discarded.
“What are you doing?” asked the newcomer.
“Well, someone’s got to wash him down” explained my mistress as I felt her step into the shower behind me. My bare feet touched her toes and my hands glanced backwards to make contact with her bare legs.
“Now then, you stop that, or I’ll let Kay have her way with you” she said as ice cold shower gel was rubbed all over my body.
Once clean, she guided me out and stepped out herself. I was knelt on the floor by Kay the newcomer as my mistress towel dried herself and I heard the slither of clothing re-donned.
“Right then” she said at last, after dressing herself and towel drying me. “Time for more tickling”.
Two pairs of hands attacked my ribs then, making me howl with laughter as I doubled up naked on the bathroom floor. One pair, Kay’s, shifted to my bottom and began to tickle me on my compact muscular rear. As much as I tried to shuffle or roll out of reach, their laughter, and fingers, followed me around the room. Under my neck, across my ribs, my stomach- all were target for the next few minutes until they both tired and stood over my panting prostrate form.
“Time to go downstairs” said my mistress. “Kay- he’s all yours”.
Fear re-entered my heart and before I could realise what was about to happen, an almighty crack resounded across my buttocks.
“Move faster!” ordered Kay as a second blow followed the first. I rolled to my knees, not fast enough to avoid the third, and fell out onto the landing as they followed me, Kay’s hands taking every opportunity to land a blow that stung with the flat of her hand. I reached the stairs under the sound of their mocking laughter, punctuated with the blows that cracked and resolved that the only thing I could do to avoid such punishment was to go down the stairs on my rear end, hiding it from further attack.
“Oh? That’s not fair!” protested Kay and I allowed myself the satisfaction of a small victory.
“Don’t worry- he’ll be more docile in a minute” said my mistress as they followed me down the stairs.
Once at the bottom I remained sat down and sensed them stand over me.
“If spanking won’t work, just tickle him” said my mistress, and they attacked me again. Neck, back, ribs, stomach, fingers scrabbling and probing into my weak areas until I had no choice in my convulsions to roll over and finally climb to my feet.
At which point the spanking began again.
I was herded, for that is the only term that would do, naked, handcuffed and blindfold, into the lounge area where I had spent time in the stocks. Their laughter and spanking- for even, I believed, my mistress joined in, heralded every step of the way until I was allowed to stand un-molested for a moment.
“Now then, whose been a naughty boy?” scolded my mistress in a playful tone.
“I’m sorry, mistress” I replied.
“There’s only one thing we do with naughty boys around here” she continued.
“Apart from spanking?” asked Kay.
“Apart from spanking” confirmed my mistress.
Whilst my mistress stood behind me, her bare foot touched my let and pushed me onto my knees. My ankle was raised and a loop slipped over and tightened, then over the other one, and I became aware that I could not adduct or abduct my legs by the hindrance of a bar that extended between them.
“Bend your head forward” my mistress said, gently but firmly and I felt myself pushed into a head pillory that had been set up waiting. The wood closed around my neck and a padlock inserted. “That’s it” she smiled, gently, “now we’ve got you where we want you”.
As I knelt there, Kay gave a laugh of surprise.
“What a collection!” she exclaimed, and I wondered what she was looking at.
“Of course” said my mistress. “Feathers, boas, brushes, a spanking paddle for you my love, and..this” she said, as an electric motor started up and something small buzzed off to one side.
At that moment, my heart leapt into my mouth as I knelt, naked, hands cuffed in the small of my back, bare soles spread by a bar between my legs, and head locked in a pillory…to await what they had in store.
The evening had only just begun.
We all see images on television all the time, yet to be actually confronted with the absence, or even the denial of freedom, brings a startling effect.
I sat alone, cramped, in the wooden cage for what seemed like an eternity, ears straining for the slightest sound from the world around me.
Through the passage of time the mind plays tricks, and sounds, both real and imagined, play on the mind like the echoes of an ambient symphony- elusive, ever beyond the perceptive range of hearing, the silence itself so deafening you could hardly imagine a more all encompassing barrage of sounds…
…of nothing. The absence of sound itself.
Denied of sight, hands tied above my head and legs crossed before me, I began to let my mind wonder and in doing so began to ‘place’ my conscience around my body. I practice yoga, I also meditate, so the concept of placing consciousness around one’s anatomy is not unknown to me.
My wrists…tired from the position they found themselves in, blood draining from my arms and hands to create the numbness in my fingers.
My body…cramped from the position.
My stomach…growling now that the initial rush of excitement, the danger, the abandonment of freedom to the mercy of another had passed. Normal feeling began to return, but still there was the fear.
What would come next? The ordeal would continue, and something told me it would only get worse.
I had no idea how much worse until a car parked in the drive outside and a female voice greeted my captor.
She had invited a close friend.
Laughter echoed through the walls, and my ears strained to catch what was being said. It is inaccurate to say that the other senses of the blind become sharper when sight is denied- it is more accurate to say simply that one affected with sensory deprivation for any length of time learns to use their other senses, if they are willing to stop the voices and sounds of memory in their head and actually listen to those senses.
After a while, the door to the garage opened and a gasp of pleasure came from a new voice.
“Oh, so that’s who you’ve got in here! How wonderful!”. My stomach felt the cold knot of fear again as two pairs of feet lightly tripped down the stairs and the padlock on the front of the cage was opened.
“Can I spank him?” asked the new voice- deeper, sultrier, accented with a tinge of European.
“His punishment is to be tickled, not spanked” chastised my mistress.
“Oh please!” said the newcomer, “I won’t damage him, I promise”.
“Just a little then” said my mistress as the cage door opened and she unlocked my hands from their bounds. “Outside” she ordered me, pulling at my shoulder.
The relief through my aching wrists was short lived as I tried to crawl out on my hands and knees and, for my pains, received a short, sharp blow to my buttocks. I did not cry out, but tried to hurry all the same.
“On your knees!” ordered my mistress, “hands behind your back”. I complied and rough rope tied my crossed wrists again.
“Stand up” she said. Now her voice changed- gentle, more seductive. “How are you? Feeling cold?” she asked.
I nodded, trying not to let my teeth chatter. The garage did not have any heating at all and I could not feel the stone floor much beneath my frozen bare feet.
“Let’s get you warmed up, then” she said, voice still gentle.
They guided me up the stairs and into the house. Through the kitchen to the hall and from there up the stairs. They giggled as they guided me, one arm each to prevent my falling, and I was pulled up the stairs to the first floor.
Laminate wooden floor gave way to cold tiles as I entered what I thought was a bathroom, and the sound of a shower came on.
“Time to warm you up” said my mistress, tugging at the belt on my jeans. “Let’s get these clothes off you”.
“But mistress” I began- nudity was not part of the agreement, or so I thought.
“But nothing!” she corrected, “you’re freezing, and we can’t have that!”. Expertly, they opened my jeans and pulled them down to bunch at my ankles. A second pair of hands pulled my boxer shorts down and the newcomer gave a gasp of surprise.
“What a wonderful bottom! I had no idea he was so developed!”.
Shame came through the cold- to be bound was one thing, but to be stripped naked by two women whilst blindfold was almost more than I could bear. My resolve was beginning to weaken. Treat a man like a prisoner, take away his rights, subject him to indignity, and he will begin to adopt the psychological profile of a browbeaten man.
A pair of hands, now easily identified as my mistress, helped me balance as first one leg was helped out of my trousers and shorts, then the other. A sudden crack echoed through the bathroom as the newcomer laid the flat of her hand across my bare buttocks, drawing an involuntary grunt of pain.
“Don’t be too hard on him…yet” my mistress said, the smile evident on her words. My hands were untied and the newcomer took my arms, pulling them down whilst my mistress unbuttoned my shirt and slipped it from my shoulders, riding the fabric down and off my arms. The newcomer lifted my arms high then whilst my mistress’ cool fingers slipped under my t-shirt and glided it up my chest, over my head, and off to be discarded.
Now naked but still blindfold, my hands were re-handcuffed behind me and I was guided into the shower to stand under the warm water that was, for now, my only relief.
Fingers probed my ribs there, drawing a laugh from my mouth as the newcomer dug into my torso and almost made me fall over as I doubled up to avoid the assault. I tried not to laugh but failed and ended up on my knees with the water cascading down over my head.
“Leave him be” said my mistress, and I became aware of sounds. The clack of slippers on the floor, the sounds of a belt unbuckled, fabric rustling and bare feet stepping onto tile. More fabric, and the crumple of a garment discarded.
“What are you doing?” asked the newcomer.
“Well, someone’s got to wash him down” explained my mistress as I felt her step into the shower behind me. My bare feet touched her toes and my hands glanced backwards to make contact with her bare legs.
“Now then, you stop that, or I’ll let Kay have her way with you” she said as ice cold shower gel was rubbed all over my body.
Once clean, she guided me out and stepped out herself. I was knelt on the floor by Kay the newcomer as my mistress towel dried herself and I heard the slither of clothing re-donned.
“Right then” she said at last, after dressing herself and towel drying me. “Time for more tickling”.
Two pairs of hands attacked my ribs then, making me howl with laughter as I doubled up naked on the bathroom floor. One pair, Kay’s, shifted to my bottom and began to tickle me on my compact muscular rear. As much as I tried to shuffle or roll out of reach, their laughter, and fingers, followed me around the room. Under my neck, across my ribs, my stomach- all were target for the next few minutes until they both tired and stood over my panting prostrate form.
“Time to go downstairs” said my mistress. “Kay- he’s all yours”.
Fear re-entered my heart and before I could realise what was about to happen, an almighty crack resounded across my buttocks.
“Move faster!” ordered Kay as a second blow followed the first. I rolled to my knees, not fast enough to avoid the third, and fell out onto the landing as they followed me, Kay’s hands taking every opportunity to land a blow that stung with the flat of her hand. I reached the stairs under the sound of their mocking laughter, punctuated with the blows that cracked and resolved that the only thing I could do to avoid such punishment was to go down the stairs on my rear end, hiding it from further attack.
“Oh? That’s not fair!” protested Kay and I allowed myself the satisfaction of a small victory.
“Don’t worry- he’ll be more docile in a minute” said my mistress as they followed me down the stairs.
Once at the bottom I remained sat down and sensed them stand over me.
“If spanking won’t work, just tickle him” said my mistress, and they attacked me again. Neck, back, ribs, stomach, fingers scrabbling and probing into my weak areas until I had no choice in my convulsions to roll over and finally climb to my feet.
At which point the spanking began again.
I was herded, for that is the only term that would do, naked, handcuffed and blindfold, into the lounge area where I had spent time in the stocks. Their laughter and spanking- for even, I believed, my mistress joined in, heralded every step of the way until I was allowed to stand un-molested for a moment.
“Now then, whose been a naughty boy?” scolded my mistress in a playful tone.
“I’m sorry, mistress” I replied.
“There’s only one thing we do with naughty boys around here” she continued.
“Apart from spanking?” asked Kay.
“Apart from spanking” confirmed my mistress.
Whilst my mistress stood behind me, her bare foot touched my let and pushed me onto my knees. My ankle was raised and a loop slipped over and tightened, then over the other one, and I became aware that I could not adduct or abduct my legs by the hindrance of a bar that extended between them.
“Bend your head forward” my mistress said, gently but firmly and I felt myself pushed into a head pillory that had been set up waiting. The wood closed around my neck and a padlock inserted. “That’s it” she smiled, gently, “now we’ve got you where we want you”.
As I knelt there, Kay gave a laugh of surprise.
“What a collection!” she exclaimed, and I wondered what she was looking at.
“Of course” said my mistress. “Feathers, boas, brushes, a spanking paddle for you my love, and..this” she said, as an electric motor started up and something small buzzed off to one side.
At that moment, my heart leapt into my mouth as I knelt, naked, hands cuffed in the small of my back, bare soles spread by a bar between my legs, and head locked in a pillory…to await what they had in store.
The evening had only just begun.
