Author's Note: Part complete fiction, partly fiction based on truth. Please enjoy


"How did I end up like this?" I wondered. But of course I knew the answer. I would have asked the question aloud, but the very large gag in my mouth made speech impossible. My master had forced my mouth open, and then pushed in a ring gag so that the ring fitted behind my teeth forcing my mouth into a wide "O". A wide strap was attached to each side of the ring, and my master had buckled it tightly behind my head. The ring gag itself would have permitted me to speak somewhat, even scream in a limited way, but Master quickly pushed a deflated rubber ball through the ring. A couple of pumps and the ball was fully inflated in my mouth. That silenced me. The taste of the ball and the complete control of my speech delighted me. My master had larger, heavier gags, of course, as well as hoods to encase my entire head and throat. But this gag was perfect-like everything my master did. I was silenced, but could breathe easily through my nose, and I could still make tiny noises in my throat and nose when the occasion required-a whipping or other pain infliction for example or to stifle my cries of pleasure during our long sex sessions.

If you could see me, you would understand immediately how easy it was for Master to gag me so thoroughly. My master likes me to be totally helpless before sex or torture. I had been tightly strapped up with padded but inescapable rubberized straps. My elbows were pulled together behind my back and strapped; then my wrists strapped together. For good measure my thumbs were held together with a tiny strap. Unnecessary but in bondage, appearance and thoroughness count as much as immobilization. My thoughtful master had not blindfolded me so I was able to see myself in the mirrors which covered the walls of our entertainment room. The sight thrilled me. Tight wide straps circle my chest above and below my breasts pinning my arms to my sides. Small straps pinned my knees and ankles. Master had clipped a short chain to my permanent metal collar and had clipped the end to a hook in the floor. I could roll slightly from side to side and even onto my front by twisting but could not rise and certainly not escape. Not that I would ever want to escape from my master's control.

What was next I wondered? A solid whipping? Electrodes on my nipples and in my ass and pussy? A luscious fucking in my pussy and ass? I certainly hoped for all of these. I looked hopefully into my master's eyes. I twisted a little on the floor so he would get a good look first at my ass and then at my pussy. A little manipulative on my part? Yes, but a sex slave does have certain powers and I love seeing my master fill out his black jock strap with a full erection.

But back to my original question. How did I end up like this? First I should introduce myself. My name is Sue. My story is long, but the key events flash through my mind and I would like you to hear them. I have always liked the idea of being bound. As I child I was thrilled by scenes in movies or cartoons showing women tied. Tied in every way. To chairs, to posts, across tables and of course spread-eagled on a bed. To me this was the ultimate expression of femininity. Whenever the neighborhood kids played cowboys and Indians, I always insisted on being roped to the tree to be rescued by the boys. And if my little skirt came up on one side so that my little cotton panties showed, all the better. Puberty came early for me, and as my breasts started to swell and my hips started to curve, I got the attention of older boys. Soon I had the reputation of a girl who could be kissed and fondled. I began to hear the words "tramp," and "slut" from other girls but I could see they were jealous of the attention I got from the guys. By age 14, I would let any decent and respectful guy get to third base, but I had no idea how to find that one guy who would tie me and take me. I was determined not to give up my virginity until I found the guy who could master me completely. I spent years in panting frustration.

Finally when I turned 17, I found him. No one will ever replace my Master in my heart, but I will always remember the great guy who first took me. It was gorgeous with all of the elements of a dream romance. It was a warm night. He had a car. We drove to a quiet part of the lake. We sat on a blanket. I let him undress me. By then I was wearing big girl underwear. He thrilled when he unbuttoned my top to see my black lace bra. I would say that I have great proportions. Fine hips, tight ass, breasts which are full but not sloppy and long fat nipples. I fill out a bra very well. I stripped off my skirt to show my black panties. He pushed me down to the blanket. I pulled off my panties, then kneeled before him. I turned my back and crossed my hands behind me. We did not say a word, but he got the clear signal. He stripped off his belt and bound my hands behind me. A dream come true. He turned me on my side, lifted my leg and pushed into me. I was hot and panting. I pushed into him until my cherry broke and he found his way deep inside me. I went crazy then. When I got too noisy, he stuffed my scarf into my mouth, then held it with his hand while I continued to thrash and moan underneath him. Finally he shot his load. We both laid there recovery our breath while the cool air from the lake dried us off.

All summer we went to this lovely spot as often as we could. When it got colder, we used a friend's cabin. My parents figured that by 17 I should be able to make my own choices. Fortunately I have never gotten pregnant. We became more and more serious about bondage. I bought leather and straps from the local shoemaker and learned how to stitch these into effective restraints which do not leave marks. I am very proud of my craft in making straps, gags, and whips which are totally effective but also safe and minimize marks and bruises. We made trips into the city to porn shops to buy bondage magazines and special items like dildos and butt plugs. This was before porn was available on tape or CD and long before the internet. We got a lot of inspiration from those magazines. We poured over poses by Betty Page, and the wonderful work by Claw and Bishop. We tried to imitate the extreme poses from bondage illustration from masters like Bishop. I loved laying in bed with my guy looking at those wonderful pictures, wondering which we could imitate and which could not be done in reality. We sure tried though. Those were thrilling days. We got engaged and I was looking forward to a lifetime of beautiful bondage.

But all good things end. My wonderful guy had joined ROTC and had volunteered for duty. It was a sad day when we parted and an even sadder day when his parents gave me the news that he had died in a training accident.

At that point I just lost it. I had become emotionally dependent on my guy, loved him deeply, but had also become addicted to bondage. I still need to be bound, beaten, and fucked in bondage on an almost daily basis or I become anxious, antsy and depressed. Even though in mourning, I could not control the drive to have the 3 "B's," bound, beaten and bopped. With maturity, I was able to discern which men would be able to satisfy me. I needed a powerful man with complete self-confidence who could control me completely and use me. But who was not a sociopath and not looking mainly for vanilla sex. This was not easy to find. Most men are insecure and not willing to engage in a bondage lifestyle. They want quick gratification and will toss away a woman whom, like me, they see as cheap and easy because she is a willing participant.

I need to pause my story at this point because my Master is on the move. I can see that it is whipping time. He laces suspension boots onto my ankles, then unties my ankles and knees. He attaches these to a spreader bar and then fixes a cable from a winch to the bar. In a moment I am hanging from my ankles with legs wide apart. He unties my hands from behind my back, but then quickly straps each wrist to hooks on the floor. With another turn of the winch I am stretched tight spread-eagled into an X. Master attaches a cord to the ring on the back of my gag and pulls my head down and slightly back. I can still see myself in the mirror. It is a thrill. I am the very definition of bound, helpless and ready to be used. Master does not disappoint me. He wheels over the cart which supports the generator, like a small battery charger, with 4 cables. Two cables end in tubes about 4 inches long which he lubricates and inserts into my pussy and ass. The other two cable end in disks like those used on EKG machines which fix to my nipples. Master selects a long plastic rod from the whip cabinet and he is ready. I am both turned on and terrified because I know exactly what is coming. The rod strikes me across my shoulders. Even stretched out my body twists in response to the hot line across my back. Then master hits a toggle switch and a sudden electric shock hits my nipples. I scream into my gag but only a small shriek gets through.

I hang there panting, knowing there is much more to come. Master looks annoyed and says, "I think we need to reduce the amount of noise coming from you, it is just too distracting."

He goes to the gag cabinet and takes out a black rubber posture collar which he fits over my neck and chin up to the base of my nose so that my gag is covered and reinforced, then tightens the laces behind my head and neck.

"There," he says with satisfaction. "That will do the trick."

He picks up the rod again and whips it across the back of my legs above my knees. I jerk in my bonds and scream but no noise emerges except small squeaks. He hits the toggle and shock surges up my ass. He flips it again and electricity hits my clit and travels up my pussy.

As I spasm in my bonds, I lose track of time and awareness. Nothing exists except the slash of the rod and the successive flashes of electricity to my nipples, ass, and pussy. I can see myself in the mirror twisting in response, but soon even this wonderful sight fades and nothing is left but a semi-conscious daze. It is though I have been destroyed and broken. This is just the feeling I have longed for throughout my life.

At some time I feel my awareness returning. I realize that the electrodes have been pulled out of my ass and pussy and off my nipples. Master puts the rod down and gets ready for the next luscious step. He lowers the spreader bar so that he can get good access to my ass and pussy. Even though my head is still held down by the cord, I can see him perfectly in the mirrors. He takes his jock strap off so I can thrill to the fullness of his erection. He lubes his cock and slowly pushes into my pussy. Slowly opening me up. I strain to push onto his cock but am frustrated by my bonds. He continues with tormenting slowness. He reaches down and grips one breast in each hand. He kneads my breasts hard and uses them as handles so he can get fuller thrusts into my waiting pussy. As he picks up speed, the excitement builds inside me and I strain against the tight straps. I try to cry out into the overpowering gag. "Yes, fuck me, take me, use me," but of course no intelligible sound emerges, just little cries emerge as I orgasm over and over. I try to scream "Butt fuck me now PLEASE." No sound emerges but my perceptive and obliging Master pulls out of my pussy, and cranks the cable just a little higher so that my asshole is exposed to him. I can feel my hole puckering, opening, and closing on its own as it gets ready for what is next.

Memory comes back to me of the first experiences when I was getting my ass ready for sex. Once my fiancé was gone, I had to fall back on my reputation as a slut. Men whom I had let feel and finger me when I was a teen, now expected much more. I had become accomplished at oral sex and was certainly an excellent no strings attached easy fuck. In my grief and depression, I let men use me just for the momentary relief from my loss and pain. After a while I had a regular gangbang arranged. I would show up on Saturday at the home of one of the men who had been my best teen friend. He would offer me wine and use of the washroom, then escort me to a room with a table, bed and access to a toilet. I would strip and lay on the table legs spread, arms back until 3, 4, or 5 of his friends would arrive. They would bring their drinks into the room, and strip. Men would hold each of my legs and pull them open. One or two would hold my arms. They had drawn straws to determine who would get fine firsts, sloppy seconds, drippy thirds, and so on. After the first guy had come, they would switch positions in rotation. Men greatly over-imagine how many times they can ejaculate in succession. It was a contest for them to see who could fuck me the most, but no one ever made it past the third try. After a while, they would go back to their drinks. I would stay for a while to accommodate any late arrivals, then take a quick wash and kiss each of them goodbye.

This was dangerous behavior, and ultimately became very dangerous as I will tell you later, but no one knew about AIDs or really other diseases and fortunately I never came down with anything. I did enjoy the feeling of being pinned down and used by men as a sex utensil. I was working by then at a good job outside the community where my reputation was not a problem. I was sometimes available during the week for "dates" which usually consisted of dinner and sex. After a while, though I became bored. A gangbang was a thrill for a while but after a time we all wanted to explore new ground and new ground meant my ass. I had never had anal sex with anyone, let along a group of guys and did not know where to begin. I took a look at my asshole in the mirror and realized that my rosebud would be ripped open by even Fred's cock and Fred was the least endowed of the group.

I worried for a time, then remembered the chapters in Story of O where O's master uses a series of ever larger butt plugs to widen her to the point where she could accept any cock. By this time, sex stores had begun to open in the City and butt plugs were available in all sizes. I began inserting plugs of increasing sizes before I went to bed each night holding them in with a strap. After three weeks, I felt I was open enough and invited the best of the guys to a "date." I carefully douched my ass over and over until I felt sparkling clean. Usually I quickly accommodated my partner by just flopping onto the bed on my back, legs spread. But this time I stripped slowly one piece of clothing at a time until I slid off my panties. My date was getting crazy with excitement. I flopped onto my back as usual but this time angled my pelvis up. Into my ass he slid. It hurt as I opened up but it was tolerable and I enjoyed the sensation of being used as a slut. I don't think my date even knew which hole he had come in, but I felt I had reached a stage in my life by becoming a three hole fuck.

Master let me hang in front of him for a moment. I was able to stop panting and bring down my pulse rate. I felt cool air blowing on my very wet pussy. I was though still in heat and aching to have my ass filled. I wiggled my ass as best I could in my restraints. Master responded to me beautifully since he still had not yet blown his load. He placed the head of his cock into my asshole and pushed. He did not need to be gentle. It was ecstasy to feel him probing inside me. He slid the length of his cock inside me. He paused so I could feel the wonder of being completely filled up; then began to slide in and out of my ass. He reached down and pinched my clit and started rolling it between him thumb and finger. The sensation was overwhelming. It was too much. I knew I could not stand it, but I knew that, strapped, gagged, suspended and utterly helpless, I had to stand it. I twisted in my restraints but could not escape his insistent fingers or thrusting cock. As I headed for a mind-crushing orgasm, the thoughts cycled through my mind. I am bound tight and cannot escape. I am gagged into silence. I cannot move or cry out. I am helpless to do anything but submit to my powerful master. At that point I came so hard that I blacked out.

On the surface things were well in my life back in my late 20's. I had a good job, a comfortable home, good health and plenty of sex. But of course I felt lonely and empty. My love was dead, and sex was good for only temporary distraction. I still longed to be bound again, but knew that my gangbang group would just not understand. They were really good guys but too young to see anything beyond their own pleasures. They lacked the maturity to explore and deal with my needs so I just did not ask. I let them enjoy me as they wished and took from it what pleasure I could.

All that changed when my job required that I move to another part of the country. I was devastated to realize that I would lose all the friends and support I had, and would have to rebuild my life. But I really had no choice and also felt I needed a fresh start anyway. For a year I just pushed sex and romance aside and just focused on my job. With the lower cost of living in my new city, I was able to afford a larger, home in a quiet neighborhood. On lonely nights, and there were a lot of them, I consoled myself by lovingly crafting restraints for myself like a bride-to-be sewing her hope chest. I made beautiful gags of every type-ball gags, pump gags, ring gags, mouth spreaders, cleave gags, discipline hoods-out of every conceivable material-leather, rope, latex, plastic, silk-with every type of fastening I could imagine-buckles, Velcro, laces, snaps, hooks. I learned to make my own straps out of padded leather which would not stretch. I hung hooks and pulleys from the ceiling joists which would easily hold my weight. I learned to upholster benches, chairs, and tables with strong straps so that I could be stringently bound and enjoyed by my imaginary master in every conceivable position.

On Friday, Saturday, and Sunday evenings, I would take a nice bath, towel off, then slowly dress myself in front of a mirror in an appropriate outfit. First a bra to push up my breasts, then a corset or waist cincher to give me that held in feeling. Then panties, nylons, high heels. I would add a wide collar around my neck, and leather straps around wrists, elbows, knees and ankles. I would carefully select a gag and discipline hood with eye openings and strap and lace them on. I had a bondage chair in front of the televisions. The internet was available by then and I subscribed to every bondage and SM site I could locate on my browser. I would click onto the channel, and bring up bondage videos to watch. I settled into the padded chair, then attached my ankles and knees to the clips on the chair. Next I attached my collar to the clips on the headrest. Short chains with clips were attached to the arms of the chair so that I could restrain my arms but still have enough movement so that I could reach my breasts and pussy with my hands and work the computer mouse. I would settle back and just watch the videos as long as I could stand waiting. Then I would begin stroking my breast and pussy lightly to torment myself. Vibrators and dildos were in easy reach. I would imagine that I was the beautiful woman being bound, gagged, beaten, whipped and fucked in the video by powerful master who would not take "No" for an answer. Gradually I would work myself up to an orgasm. Then another more powerful. Then another. Inevitably I would at some time fall asleep in the chair, then wake up in the early morning still strapped with the TV still running. I left just enough play in the chains so that I could with difficulty free myself from the chair, then stumble into bed. I loved waking up on weekend mornings still gagged, collared and hooded, but I could not escape the loneliness that would come over me as I made breakfast and cleaned up.

I went on like this for a year and more and thought that this would be my life. But gradually I started to make friends at work and outside. I started to socialize a little with girlfriends and through them started to meet guys. I was cautious because I did not want to fall back into the same life I had before. But habits die hard. After two years without cock, I felt I just had to have men again. I guess I just radiated some signal because men began showing up with a clearly dominant side. I had actually been sheltered in my previous life because every man I had sex with was a friend and had for the most part grown up with me. I tried to be wise, but I was not a really good judge of character. I fell in with a group of construction guys who took work around the country as a team. They were working on pipelines in my area. They were strong, clean, demanding, and best of all understood how to tie a girl up. For a time I thought it was a good choice. Instead of spending weekends in my chair in front of the TV, I could go out with a fun group of guys to clubs and bars then spend the night tied to a bed while they took turns fucking me. It was not my dream but I could count on bound rough sex two or three times a week.

The terrible problem came when their work on the pipeline ended. They had work lined up in another part of the country. When I found out, I was tearful, but told them I would stay in touch and could see them from time to time. I should have seen signs of trouble. They asked me to come with them. They offered to move my stuff, find me a place and set me up as their fulltime fuck. I actually considered for a moment but then said I could not leave my work or lead that kind of life. I could see they were not happy but did not realize how far they would go. We arranged for one final goodbye. The party was great. Champagne, great food, music. Before they gagged me I kissed each one good bye and let them take me to a bedroom for the usual night. I felt unusually sleepy and suddenly realized I had been drugged.

Unknown to me, they had closed down my house, given notice at my work, packed up my clothes, changed my mailing address. Very clever the way they did it. My next memory after being tied to the bed was waking up naked, heavily gagged, and tightly strapped down in a discipline hood and collar to the cargo bed of a large SUV with a tarp stretched over me. They had discovered the bondage gear I had made so I found myself kidnapped and bound in my own inescapable bondage gear. I was terrified and had the terrible realization that this was no sex game but was very real indeed. Since I knew them all by names and faces, I immediately realized that we had passed the point where they could play with me for a while, then release me, no hard feelings. This had to be permanent. I had to struggle not to vomit into my gag in terror.

We stopped a few times for gas. Each time, I was ungagged and given water. Once I was lifted out and allowed to urinate with my hands tied while still hooded and gagged in a secluded area off the road. I was strapped down again and we drove for more hours. Finally I was lifted out of the SUV. A chain was padlocked to my collar and I was led into a room. I was unstrapped and the gag and hood removed. The chain was long enough to reach a toilet and sink. After a while my muscles unlocked enough so that I could crawl to the toilet and then to the sink next to a shower. A sandwich had been left for me on a table but I was too terrified to eat. I kept trying to organize my thoughts to deal with my situation. But soon enough, the head guy, Robert unlocked the door and came in.

I started to pour out questions and protests, but he cut me off. "Don't talk unless I ask you," he said. I could see he was ready to hit me across the face, so I stopped. "I figure you will like this, being what you are and what we know about you," he said. "We did not take you seriously when you said you wanted to stay. We found your playroom and your playthings. We figure that things speak louder than words. We have done this before and we know that some women just crave to be taken and kept." You will find that this is just fine for you, but if not, well then just too bad. We need to travel and just don't want to spend the time finding another woman..You will do just fine. Any stupid questions?"

I knew better than to protest. My only hope was to go along, pretend that this was what I really wanted down deep, and wait for my chance to get free. "Can I ask where those other girls are now?" I said humbly.

"They're just fine," he answered. "After a time we want some fresh flesh, so they promise to keep their mouths shut and we let 'em go." I could hear the lie in his voice but I knew I had to act like I believed him. I knew those girls were dead, buried and forgotten. "How long will you want to keep me?" I asked. "I am in no hurry to be kicked out." He seemed pleased.

"Well great then," he said. We have a deal and you will get plenty of what you want."

"Turn around," he said as he reached for the gag. "Likely no one can hear you here, even if you scream your head off, but no sense taking chances, is there? You will wear the gag all the time unless you are eating or giving us suck jobs. You will wear the chain for the same reason. Your hands are free so you can feed and clean yourself, but if we catch you taking the gag off without permission, monkeying with the chain, disobeying orders or trying to escape, you will be tied up real tight and made to feel real sorry. Be back tonight.You will get food and water then."

I struggled to deal with this nightmare. One thing I clearly knew. I would have only one chance to get free and stay alive and I had better not miss it. I was hungry and thirsty again, but also exhausted. I moved over to the bed and lay down. I awoke when I head voices and the door lock open.

"Party time," Robert said. He had bags of take out, beer, and household stuff. I realized it was Friday and that I was going to be the weekend entertainment. He took off the gag but left the chain. "Wonderful," I said. "Just like old times. Where do we start?"

"Have a beer and some food, first," he said. "You will need your energy. I ate a sandwich, drank half a beer, then brushed my teeth at the sink.

"Ready," I said. "Can't wait to get started."

"Lay down of your back on the table," I was instructed. "Let your head hang over the edge, let your arms hang down, and spread those nice long legs of yours."

My arms were tied to the table legs to hold me down. With my head hanging, my mouth naturally fell open so I was ready to suck cock. My ass came to the other edge of the table so that my asshole and pussy were fully accessible. My ankles were tied to my thighs with straps so that my legs flopped to either side. I was totally helpless and totally accessible. A week ago I would have been thrilled to be in this position, ready for my weekly gangbang. But right then I felt nothing but terror, resignation, and the need to pretend that I was enjoying the situation.

"How about a ring gag to help a girl keep her mouth wide open?" I asked.

"I thought girls always had their mouths wide open!" one of them joked. But they obliged by strapping a 3 inch ring into my mouth. I acted as though I were delighted.

"It's time for a fuck sandwich," I was able to say with difficulty. "Who's first?"

Robert stepped up to the table between my legs and shoved his cock into my pussy. James, the second in command, took my head in his hands and pushed his cock down my throat. They started pumping and I started that gurgling that comes from deep-throating cock. Fortunately I had the foresight to lubricate my pussy heavily before we got started. In porn stories, women are described as just automatically getting wet during sex no matter what danger they are in. Believe me, it is not true. There is no way I am going to be able to wet my pussy naturally when I feel I am in danger.

They took their time but eventually they both came at about the same time. I was able to swallow their cum shots without difficulty, thanks to long practice. Two other guys stepped up to take their places. This went on for some hours, but I lost track of time. Eventually I realized that I was being untied from the table but the chain to my collar remained attached. Plainly they intended to keep me permanently chained no matter how compliant I was. I was able to puke up a lot of the cum I had swallowed, then get some water and eventually some food. They continued drinking and talking but. I went to the bed and fell asleep. In the morning, James gave me more water and breakfast, let me brush my teeth, and then replaced the ball gag. I did not protest, but acted as though I wanted the gag. "It gives me a nice secure feeling, "I said.

James laughed. "You are definitely secure. No one can get into this place and know one knows you're here. The gag is just an extra precaution." Still he was pleased with my submission, as I wanted him to be.

Saturday night was a repeat of Friday. So was every weekend for the next four weeks. I was kept fed and could wash and care for myself, but I was becoming more and more depressed and fearful that I would not find a way of escape before I was to be killed.

Then in the fifth week I got a break. Only five of the guys showed up on Friday. "What happed to Ron," I asked pretending I was concerned.

"Bad news," James said. "Ron fell off a platform, broke a hip, got a concussion, and my have fractured his spine."

"That's terrible," I said. Please tell him I miss him and hope he gets better.

"Not likely, James said. "And now we are a man short on our crew." We will need a replacement right away. So that means some fresh dick for you, Baby."

"Great," I said, "but nothin' wrong with the dick I am getting.

" He looked pleased. "Ok, we will bring your new fuck-buddy around tomorrow night so he can see one of the fringe benefits of being with our crew."

"I'm looking forward to that," I managed to say before the gag went back in.

Saturday night at the usual time the door was unlocked and the crew came in but with a fifth guy. "Meet our girl friend, Sue," they said as they pulled me up off the bed by my neck chain. She is our permanent party girl and another benefit that comes from working with this great crew. And now, Sue, meet your new boyfriend, Mike. You are going to get to know him real well." They all laughed. Mike looked quizzical and not completely pleased with this introduction. I liked Mike's looks and manner. He was a well-built man, more carefully dressed than the others even in work clothes, clean shaven, nice hair cut and a graceful but powerful way about him.

James unbuckled my gag. "Tell Mike how pleased you are to see him, Sue."

I worked my jaw a little, then said," Welcome Mike. I am sure you will get to know me personally very quickly." Everyone laughed. "Let's get the party going."

I drank some beer, ate some food and waited for the next move. "I am tired of the table; let's hang her from her heels," somebody said. Everyone thought that was a great idea, but Mike looked very uncomfortable. I thought that I might have an opportunity. Obviously the crew had been kidnapping and raping women for such a long time that they saw nothing wrong with it, and assumed that newcomers would see it the same way. That might not be true I thought.

My hands were strapped behind my back, my elbows were strapped together and straps buckled onto each ankle. The ring gag went back on to assure easy access. Two of these guys were easily able to lift me off my feet, turn me upside down and attach each ankle strap to chains hanging from pulleys. My legs were spread wide. The chains could be raised or lowered for preferred access to my mouth, ass or pussy.

They drew straws for the privilege of going first. First guy gets to choose his preferred hole. They pretend to grumble as James won first fuck, but they cheered as he vigorously fucked me in the mouth and shot off with a rebel yell. Next guy took my pussy, next guy my ass, and continued until it was Mike's turn. By then they were all getting wild and very drunk. Mike stepped up for his turn. He acted like he was going to butt fuck me, but to my surprise, he let his cock slide over my asshole down over my pussy lips but did not insert himself. He started a mock butt fucking and I started to moan through the ring gag. "Yes, give it to me, harder, harder" and started to pretend orgasms.

They crew cheered him on until we both pretended to cum loudly. Satisfied that Mike was on-board and one of the guys, they continued to drink and tell jokes as I hung there ready for anyone sober enough to be able to fuck me.

Mike came over for a second round. He lifted my head with his hands as though seeking a better angle, and whispered "Are you OK with this or do you want out?

I said loudly "Shove it in, big boy," but then whispered "Please get me out of here. Please."

I then lifted my head and got his cock into my mouth. I began to rock my head, and run my tongue over his cock head. After a few minutes he came for real, and I let the cum drip over my lips in case anyone doubted the authenticity.

I stuck out my tongue and began licking his cock clean. Even with the ring gag I was able to whisper "They are going to kill me."

He got the message. He said loudly. "Well we are just going to have to give this lady more of what she wants. Come one guys. Who's up for a third round?"

No one answered.

"Well then, I vote that we get out of here for awhile, get to that western bar up the road a mile past the quarry, and have some more fun there. I know the way. So follow me. Who's coming with me?"

Everyone thought that was a good idea. They had one king cab, but Mike had driven his pickup separately. "What do we do with her?" one guy asked. James walked over to me, wadded a cloth and stuffed it behind the ring gag. "That will keep her quiet until we get back."

I hung there hoping desperately that Mike would do something to help me escape. But I knew that even if he did, I would have to run fast and far because no one would believe my story, given my history as a known gang bang slut, and they would hunt me down.

I was so exhausted from worry and from the gang rape that I actually fell asleep even while hanging upside down. I woke up as I heard the door being forced open. Mike stepped in. I had never been so glad to see someone. He grinned at me. "I did not have the key so I used the tire jack."

He walked over, lowered me to the ground. He unbuckled my gag, and took the straps off. I lay on the floor in a heap unable to move. He brought a cup of water over and held my head so I could drink. Finally I could speak. "We have to get out of here," I whispered hoarsely. "They will kill us as soon as they find us."

Mike looked perfectly calm. "Oh you don't have to worry about any of them coming back. They got real drunk at that western bar. The whole place saw them drinking and whooping it up. They all piled into the king cab truck and headed back here"

I was terrified. "Where are they," I said looking around wildly.

"Oh they are in their smashed truck at the bottom of the quarry. I left ahead of them and switched the road sign and removed the barricade from across the quarry road. I waited until they crashed over the side of the quarry. It's about 40 feet deep. I put the barricade back, switched the road sign back and came here. I doubt anyone will find them for at least a couple of days. We will be long gone by then, so soon as you can move, we need to get your stuff, clean this place up and remove any evidence there was woman here. No one else knows you are here, right?"

I was overjoyed and stunned that my nightmare had ended so quickly. We cleaned up, packed up and drove away. We waited a few days at a nice hotel until we got definite news that the whole crew had died in "an alcohol related accident." Then we were free.

Once I had recovered, Mike and I found that we connected at the deepest level, and not just based on that terrible experience and escape.

We came back to my house with all the bondage gear I had made so painstakingly over the lonely years. I took him to my special room and he helped put my beautiful whips and restraints back into their proper places.

I had been afraid that Mike would be revolted by my life as a bondage slut who was stupid enough to be kidnapped and used as a bondage slave. I wondered if he could fulfill my needs live a life in bondage.

I did not need to worry. Mike was a self-confident man, and like many men who are clear and confident in their life, realize that many women need to submit and be bound. He had not surprisingly become a bondage master in his twenties. I submitted joyfully and he bound me with skill and passion.

So now you have heard my story. Despite terrible risk, my life has in the end turned out far better than I could have imagined. I have the guy of my dreams, powerful, graceful, clear in thought and action, who loves me deeply.

Now back to the present. To remind you, I had just had the mother of all ass fuckings and had momentarily blacked out from an overwhelming orgasm. Now as I am returning to the here and now, I am utterly satisfied. My master has lowered me to the ground and has removed my bonds. He helps my up and carries my limp body to our bed. He snaps light chains onto my collar and wrists, puts a light gag on me, kisses me and in a moment I am deliciously asleep.

I hope, dear and patient reader, that your life goes as well.