Author's Note: This is my first ever porn/bondage story/whatever, so please be kind (and I know it's weird. Really. This is actually a toned down version of the weirdest and most vivid dream I've ever had). Please leave a comment letting me know if you liked it (do you do that on this site? I don't know). Anyway... enjoy!

Part 1

I wasn't too sure about staying with my uncle, but it wasn't like I had a choice. Mum and Dad hadn't made a will, so I automatically went to the closest family member - it didn't matter much to social services we'd met only twice, they just wanted me off their hands.

Uncle owned a farm shop, just a little one, with fresh milk and eggs and wheat and meat. He seemed happy enough to see me, and as I'd come to him at the start of the school holidays I just spent my time working in his shop.

I didn't mind, really I didn't. It took my mind off things, and I could even pretend that I was just here for a summer job, and any moment Mum and Dad would walk through the door.

But they didn't.

It wasn't a big shop, you have to understand, and the stock wasn't really concrete - sometimes we'd have more storage than things to sell, and more than once I'd had to tell regulars we didn't have their order today.

"I'd kill for some chicken," one said when I had to turn him away. He was a big man, not really very nice looking, with big hands and kind of bright eyes, like he was getting a joke I didn't.

I grimaced and shrugged "Sorry, we're out."

"Lemme talk to yer uncle," he said, and without any effort whatsoever he pushed me to the side and went behind the counter.

"Hey!" I shouted after him "You're not allowed-"

My uncle popped his head out from his study - a place I wasn't allowed to set foot in - and his face relaxed when he saw the man.

"Don't worry dear," he said to me "It's just Ramsay."

That was something else weird about this place. In over a month, I'd only seen men. There were no women anywhere, and it was beginning to make me feel like I was a second class citizen - I was in the middle of nowhere, and hardly anyone used my name - I had become 'dear', 'sweetheart' and 'darling'. It wasn't like a city was just down the road - it would take three hours, by car, which I didn't have (and couldn't drive if I did anyway).

I just shrugged and went back to organizing the outside of the storefront. The day was boiling, and I was wearing just a thin, loose tank top and a skirt that dwarfed me, increasing my fatigue with the way the cotton caught heat and made my bare skin rub together, sweating.

Without even a radio signal, the time passed quickly and soon I was sweating like a pig under the burning midday sun. Uncle and Ramsay had been inside for quite a while, but I hadn't heard anything for a while. I stepped inside and in relief stood in front of the fan at the entrance of the shop which blew blissfully cool air onto my exhausted body.

I closed my eyes for what felt like a moment, relishing in the feeling, before I heard footsteps behind me and my eyes snapped open.

Spinning round I came face to face with Ramsay, whose hands caught onto mine just in time to stop me falling over.

"Careful, chick," he scolded as a red flush rose in my cheeks.

"Kid!" My uncle called and I extracted myself from Ramsay's grip, muttering my thanks.

"Yeah?" I replied.

"Ramsay here's bought a large bundle of produce so d'you think you can help him take it back to his ranch?"

My stomach sank. I had been hoping to hole myself in my room with a book I'd began that morning, but it appeared that was off the cards.

"Yeah, sure." I smiled at him as convincingly as I could, but even to me it felt fixed.

After helping Ramsay load his truck - no, sorry, after loading Ramsay's truck for him whilst the dick just stood there watching with a smug look on his face, although it would have gone quicker if he'd helped and I was much, much smaller than him - it was a fifteen minute drive to his place. I spent the majority of it trying to get the feeling in my arms back.

Ramsay's ranch was larger than my Uncle's, and he directed me to a huge, empty barn full of boxes, bags and baskets. He did help with the unloading, but not as much as I would have hoped - I stamped down my complaints knowing he was a customer, and Uncle said that the customer was always right (especially one that had bought a bulk load of veggies we'd been struggling to get rid of).

I was directed to the right bags, and slowly, oh so slowly, the sun began to lower itself in the sky. By the time we'd gotten to dusk, there were only a few sacks of potatoes to go and I thought if I was lucky I could still get back to my book in less than an hour.

That thought put me in a good mood, and I swore I finished putting the potatoes down quicker than I had the other things. I'd even managed to block Ramsay out, who was doing something behind me with some baskets and rope left over from where I tied it to the top of the truck.

"Hey, darlin', come over here for a minute," Ramsay called, and I reminded myself I was going home in a minute, so I could bear to be cordial to the huge man, who still hadn't used my name. Perhaps he didn't know it, but I wasn't going to give him the satisfaction of asking if he did.

"What?" I asked, striding over. He was pointing down at a basket, quite a small one compared to the larger ones, and it wouldn't be too good in collecting produce from the fields.

"D'you think you could fit in that, chick?" He asked and my forehead puckered in confusion.

"Why would I want to?" I asked and he raised his eyebrows, a confrontational look in his face.

"I dare ya," he said and I scoffed.

"You do that," I said, turning round, done with his shit for the day, hoping now he'd gotten his bulk load from us he wouldn't be around for a while.

"Chicken!" That stopped me in my tracks. He laughed when he saw the effect the taunt had on me. "You heard me, chicken! Bwark, bwark!" I turned to see him flapping his hands like they were wings.

"I am not!" I snapped, marching over to him, my hands in fists. I had a short fuse, I always had. That was part of the reason the orphanage wanted to get rid of me as quick as possible, they said I was disrupting the other kids.

"Are too," he drawled, smiling with all his teeth.

"Am not." I growled, knowing full well I sounded like a spoilt child, but unable to stop myself.

"Prove it," he smirked, and with all the heat racing to my cheeks and the thumping in my chest, I stopped wondering why he wanted me to sit in the small basket and just did it.

"Fine," I snarled and pulled my skirt up, about to get into the basket as ladylikely as I could but I overestimated the height of the basket and fell into it with a 'humph'! Even then, I wasn't properly in, the wicker hard and unyielding, and Ramsay saw it too, so he got down on his haunches and helped me wriggle in the final couple of inches until the tops of my thighs and my bottom were wedged in it.

"Hey, you can," he said, standing up.

"A lot of point there was in that," I grumbled, my knees now at about the same height as my head. I must have looked ridiculous I realized, and I went to push myself out of the basket, but after a couple of heaves I found I couldn't actually get free by myself, the top of the basket being thinner than the bottom, which was still a tight fit. On top of that, my back was beginning to hurt due to the complete lack of support and the position I was in - like I was folded over, my arms thankfully out of the basket, but my head and back coming out one side and my calves and feet coming out the other.

All through this, Ramsay had been watching me struggle.

"Hey," I huffed after yet another attempt to wriggle free had failed, trying to swallow down my pride to ask for help "I can't get free."

"I can see," he said, with raised eyebrows. It suddenly occurred to me that whilst standing he was a good foot and a half taller than me, now he was towering above me. I felt some primal instinct tell me to curl up in a ball and hope the huge predator went away, but I told it to shut up.

I flushed, hoping he would have gotten my point without me having to explicitly ask for his assistance in getting free "Can you get me out?"

Ramsay circled me, chewing on a piece of gum. My belly did this weird contraction that I'd never felt it do before.

"Should be able to," he said finally, and with no warning he bent down and picked up the basket - with me still inside - up with one arm like I weighed little more than a small animal, like a rabbit or chicken.

"Hey!" I squawked, hitting his back with my hands in astonishment before my grip tightened at the way he shook the basket from side to side in retaliation. If I hadn't held on, I would have met the ground very hard, and have been unable to catch myself. "Put me down!"

Ramsay just chuckled and walked me out of the shed and towards his ranch "I've gotta go get some scissors, chick. Unless you wanna stay in there any longer?"

Well, I thought to myself, I really wanted out of this. The position was painful, restrictive and effectively trapped me. So I just nodded, but looked around warily.

Catching my movement, Ramsay laughed again. I was really starting to dislike this guy - first he gets me stuck in a basket of all things, and then just won't stop laughing. "There ain't anyone round here, lass. My closest neighbours are twenty two miles away." Relief flooded through me at that - at least nobody except Ramsay would have seen me in such an embarrassing position.

Finally we reached his house, which was considerably warmer than outside now that the sun had set. Ramsay placed me on the kitchen island like I really was just some animal he'd put in a basket, and wandered off, saying he was going to get the scissors.

I couldn't go anywhere, so I looked around. It wasn't a very tidy house, but he was a man in his twenties living alone, so it was better than it could have been, definitely. He had a lot of high tech items I didn't know you could get in a place this empty - a satellite dish, automatic fire and the latest digital camera were just a few things.

"Ramsay?" I called out after a few minutes had passed, but there was no reply. It wasn't like I could go after him, so I had to just sit there and hope he wasn't just going to forget all about me.

It was about fifteen minutes later when he reappeared with arms full of things.

"I thought you'd left me," I smiled nervously, really, really wanting out of the basket at this point. He just smiled and emptied his arms on the island area I wasn't in, behind me, so I couldn't hear what he had gotten, though I did hear a metallic clang which gave me hope there were scissors to cut me out of this mess.

"You going at this from the back?" I asked and he replied a moment later, slower than I would have thought as if his mind was on something else.

"Yes. Raise your arms please." I lifted my arms which had been hanging over the side of the basket, presumably in the way of where he wanted to cut, and put them over my head. "No," he said, authoritatively, "Not there. Put each hand on your shoulder."

Without thinking, I did as he said, something in his tone telling me that it wasn't time to argue. No sooner had I placed my hands flat on my shoulders, I felt something cool and sticky winding itself around my left arm and hand.

"Wha-" I said to the sensation, caught offguard. In my confusion, as I turned my head to try and see what had happened, impeded for a moment my the strange position I was in, and taking full advantage of the delay Ramsay went to my other arm and did the same thing before I could pull my hand away.

He'd wrapped duct tape around my hand and arm, depriving me of the use of my hands and leaving my elbows sticking out, strangely reminiscent of a chicken's wings. I flailed, but Ramsay seemed to have expected that, simply stepping out of the way so he was completely out of range of my elbows.

If I'd looked stupid before, I must have looked idiotic now.

"You dick!" I swore at him, hurling any insult I could think of at him "This funny to you? This is all your goddamn fault!"

I spent about five minutes raging, whilst Ramsay just stood out of my range, smirking. Finally, I ran out of energy, my muscles made heavy with fatigue and he stepped closer again, finding it laughably easy to catch hold of one of my doubled over arms and make more headway on wrapping up the limb - soon at least ten cycles had been made and there was no way I was releasing that arm without help.

"I'm going to kill you," I spat at him, and the bastard laughed.

"Are you now?" he chuckled.

I must look so strange now, with brown duct tape around my pale arms, making my hands disappear under layers and layers of tape and my arms become useless appendages. Next, he started on my feet. I tried to kick at him but again I simply couldn't move properly, my movement limited by the basket I was still trapped in.

Instead of sticking my feet together, he pulled them far apart until my left and right feet were almost on completely opposite side of the basket. Once he was satisfied, Ramsay began winding yet another roll of duct tape around the entire basket, carefully making sure my skirt wasn't touched as he did so. My leg muscles ached and I groaned for him to stop now, stop playing, I wouldn't say anything, but he didn't. He just kept on going until my leg muscles screamed and to an outside observes my feet and ankles were little more than bumps in the basket.

"This isn't funny," I told him, my courage failing now as he finally used up the rest of the tape on my feet. There was no way I was getting out of this without help, and his nearest neighbour was over twenty miles away! "Stop now,"

"Shh," he hummed to me in response, patting my head. I saw an advantage, and snapped my teeth at his hand, which was in range of my mouth.

Ramsay pulled it away, swearing. A trickle of blood went down his hand. But he did something weird then, really weird, instead of getting mad or realizing it had stopped being a good practical joke and I was really serious that he'd gone too far - he smiled.

That was the moment when my denial of it just being a game or a joke slipped away and I realized I was well and truly fucked.

"Feisty," he said, and went behind me, and rummaged around in his pile of things.

"What are you-" I began to say when he came around again but then he pulled my mouth open and grabbed the tip of my tongue, digged in his nails, and pulled.

I let out a scream at the pain, and my head span, black spots appearing in front of my eyes.

"You keep your tongue stuck out and still on your own, or I help." He says, and removes his fingers slowly. I keep my tongue out, paralyzed from fear. "Good girl," he says.

I can't see what he's doing, but I can feel something small and cool drifting over the surface of my tongue before going down - I realize he knows about my tongue piercing, but how? I hadn't put anything in it since my parents died. Then, he reaches beneath my tongue and puts a small ball on the other end of the piercing and tells me to put my tongue back in my mouth.

First I try to do it quickly, but fail. The stud isn't a stud at all - it feels like just one long horizontal bar that is bigger than my mouth. But Ramsay helps, gently pulling out the sides of my mouth one at a time until the new accessory snicks into place between my teeth.

"Wams'ee?" I say, before my eyes widen at my distorted speech. I try and manipulate the bar in my mouth, but no matter which way I turn it it's solidly between my teeth and I can't close my jaws to any degree "'Hy arr 'ooing ghis?"

Ramsay's grin became a full blown smirk, stretching all across his face and reminding me of a shark.

"That's better," he purred, "Much less mouthy now."

"I be goo,'" I try and tell him, but my pleas fall on deaf ears "Tay 'eet owt."

There's no point in struggling, but I try anyway. My feet feel like they're in concrete, that's how little they'll move, and my arms are little more than long stumps. "Wams'ee?" I say again, feeling tears rise in my eyes, but he's back behind me and doesn't answer.

It's worse when he begins cutting my top off of me, because I know I got myself in this position. If only I hadn't gone in the basket, if only I'd told Uncle I didn't want to go, if only Mum and Dad hadn't died, if only, if only-

The white fabric falls away from me to reveal my bra, which soon disappears as well.

"P'wease," I moan, begging now "p'wease sop-"

"Shh, chick." Ramsay hums as he comes round the front of me "Make anymore noise and I'll have to silence you properly."

I shush. I don't know what Ramsay's definition of shutting up properly is, and I don't think I want to.

He cuts the skirt off quickly, ripping it at the end as if he's that impatient to see what lies beneath, and cutting off my knickers so fast I was afraid he'd nick my skin with the scissors in his haste. Then he just stares.

I knew that he'd positioned my legs the way he had for a reason, but its worse actually having it happen. For one giddy moment, when I forget I'm completely helpless, I wonder if he's never seen a girl before. Then I imagine what I must look like to him, and I know I must be beet red. I automatically try and close my legs, but the tight bindings tell me there is no way in hell that's going to happen.

"Good girl," Ramsay breathes, and reaches out as if to touch me. I curl up into a ball inside my head, and try not to feel it - but a touch never comes. I open one eye to see his hand an inch away from my privates, but not going any further. "Pretty girl. Like a flower."

He then seems to shake his head, and picks me up like he had what felt like an eternity ago. This time I have no arms, but now he's being more careful. Then we go outside.

"Wams'ee-" I try to speak but his voice answers back immediately, harsh and distant.

"Silence."

I'm carried so far I can't see the ranch or anything around except Ramsay's fields after a while, as I'm facing where we've just come from and I can't see where Ramsay's taking me. Just a few more hours, I tell myself. Then my Uncle will send out a search party, the police will come and lock Ramsay up and I can go back home and hide for a few weeks in my bed to recover.

I lose height suddenly, as Ramsay has ducked. I don't realize why for a moment as I'm on his shoulder, my head just behind his before something hard scrapes my scalp hard. I let out a little whimper.

"Sorry, chick," Ramsay says soothingly, and to my distressed mind it actually works, at least for a moment. It's warm - very warm - wherever he's taken me, the walls are all wooden and there's straw on the floor. For a moment I think it's a stable, before we round a corner.

It's a hen coop.

There's a few rustles from nesting mothers, with their white wings and red plumes and suddenly I can see why Ramsay seems to think this is the right place for me, in a way. I'm as pale as anything, and my hair has always been my crowning glory, long and blood red. Now, with my wing-like arms and 'nest' in the form of my basket, I suppose this is what he was aiming for the whole time.

Chicken. It felt like he called me that years ago, but now all I feel is disbelief instead of red hot anger like before.

I'm deposited in an empty coop - the rest around me have two levels but mine has just the one floor, the remains of the second level evident by the nails hanging out at the side. The straw is thick but I can feel the few pieces that touch my exposed skin already begin to scratch and irritate me.

My head is still throbbing. I try to tell him, but all that comes out is intelligible gurgles. Mum had always said I'd regret my tongue piercing, and as always, she was right.

"Shhh, shhh, you rest here," he tells me. It's so warm, I can already feel my sweats sluicing under the tape - which doesn't seem to make it any less effective, just more uncomfortable. There's an orange glow everywhere, on the wood, on my skin, on the straw and Ramsay's ugly face.

Then, from one of his coat pockets, he brings out a large bottle? A phallic shape-

No.

It's fashioned like a penis, a fucking colossal penis, with veins and everything, but it's see-through and there's a bag at the bottom and a hole at the top. There's huge straps around the sides, and I can see a padlock there too.

"Now," he says gently, like I'm a dumb animal "You stick your tongue out and take this all gentle like, or it gets harder."

For one mad moment I considered not doing it, making a stand. But then I remember the terrible pain on him yanking on my tongue before, and how much my tongue had bled when I'd first got it done. I meekly poked my tongue out, and had to ignore the humiliation of having to have him take the bar out of my mouth and undo it.

"Good girl," he hummed.

Against my better judgement, I tried to speak, sensing this was the last chance I was going to have for a while "Please, Ramsay, just let me go home, I won't tell anyone-"

The penis gag is rammed into my mouth and I swallow a sob. It tickles the back of my throat and I gag a little. The straps are quickly tied round the back of my head and I hear the snick of the lock closing.

"You're lucky I like you," Ramsay tells me as he backs out of the coop "Most girls wouldn't get away with that, but you're just so... pretty like this."

The last thing I see before the shutters on my coop are closed, leaving me to endless orange light, bare walls, scratchy straw and aching muscles is Ramsay's face through the chicken wire, his eyes still laughing like they'd been that morning.

But this time I got the joke. It was me.