Chapter One - Day One

 

She was being watched. Unseen eyes tracked her every movement. Pale, cynical eyes, full of frustrated lust and menace.

But the face which surrounded such eyes frowned in confusion and curiosity.

What the fuck was she doing?

 

An hour or so earlier she had waved her husband off to his seminar, watching his company BMW reverse out of the short driveway and head off towards the airport.

She had three days. Three days to relish. Three days in which to put her carefully laid plans into action.

Trembling with apprehension and excitement she had forced herself to slow down. Her self-imposed rules stated that everything must be done at an even pace, no matter how much urgency there seemed to be, no matter how much self-control was needed. Her rules must be obeyed, otherwise there was no point. If she allowed herself to change things at will it would ruin everything.

So she controlled her excitement. Repressed her anticipation.

She systematically checked again every piece of equipment. Checked batteries, timers, clockwork motors, electrical actuators, connectors. She snapped and released locks, flicked pulleys to ensure they would spin freely.

She turned to her bag.

Checked lubricants and other fluids, rehearsed for the hundredth time the knots she would need, running the sensuous 50% silk rope through her fingers.

She repacked everything in reverse order, peeled off her day clothes and headed for the bathroom.

Again she was slow and thorough. First she administered to herself the pre packed enema. She inserted the nozzle and held the fluid inside her for as long as she could, only releasing at the last possible moment. She entered the shower and turned on the water, presenting her rear end to the cascade first, before beginning her slow and thorough cleansing routine. Every inch of her body was soaped and scrubbed. Every nook and cranny of delicate skin probed and cleansed and sweet smelling. The desire to continue probing and manipulating had to be fought down. Nothing must be allowed to dull the keen edge of excitement she felt.

With a determined effort she turned off the water and wrapped herself in the warm, soft towel, patting herself dry, enjoying this last taste of luxury before her self-imposed ordeal.

Once dried, she applied two electronic contact pads onto her outer labia, either side of her clitoris, then another directly onto her clitoris itself. Next she took two dildos from her locked medicine cabinet and smoothed lubricating gel over them. The larger of the two she inserted into her vagina, the smaller into her anus, holding everything securely in place with tight fitting latex panties. The connections from them she left sticking up just over the panties' waist band, ready to be connected.

Finally she padded back to her bedroom and began to dress.

The wires from the labia electrodes and the clitoral contact, like the dildos, emerged from her waistband and linked neatly into the circuitry sewn into the jumpsuit. The wires to connect her nipples were fed upwards inside the suit, but not yet clipped to her nipples.

She emerged from the house, placed her carefully packed rucksack in the passenger footwell and drove away.

Outwardly she looked like any upper middle class professional lady, dressed for a hiking weekend.

Loose, outdoor, all weather clothing.

But her appearance told nothing of her real plans.

Many hours had gone into the modifications to her olive drab jumpsuit. Seams had been unpicked and opened strategically, now only held closed by thin strips of Velcro. Some pockets had been converted into access flaps, other pockets had been remodelled to hold equipment. Electrical wiring had been sewn into place, pull cords had been threaded through hems, seams and button holes.

She had cut and sewn, tested and modified, over and over until she was completely satisfied. She had discussed her modifications with other members of the same on-line group, accepting suggestions and ideas for improvement. Complete strangers from around the world who shared her tastes, but whom she would never meet, but who also devised their own cunning techniques. She had tested and tested, time and again until the jumpsuit did exactly what she wanted it to do. Once plugged into her pre-programmed iPad her very special jumpsuit would give her all the thrills and torment she could desire.

She had held this passion, thought about it and practised it for as long as she could remember. She had begun by collecting old straps and belts and bits of rope, playing 'tying up' games with herself, gradually learning and improving her methods. Once she had acquired a certain level of independence she had bought better equipment, taken more risks, pushed herself further.

Now she was about to take a quantum leap in her hidden fetish for self-bondage.

She was about to let go of all safety devices, all retreats and back out devices.

For the first time she was going out into the wilds, alone, to restrain herself naked and helpless, miles from help.

On the throw of a pair of dice she would learn her fate. The dice would decide how long she would be there, and what would be happening to her during her enforced and self-inflicted helplessness. The dice would decide on the intensity settings, the frequency, the level of pain or pleasure she would have to endure. The dice would decide on her exposure. The dice would decide and the iPad would execute the orders.

Once secured, she could only accept.

She squeezed her thighs together, excitement making her squirm in her seat. She knew she was already warm and damp.

 

The pale eyes had watched her as she parked the Dodge Ram in the public car park at the start of the woodland trail.

Another rich young married woman playing at the outdoor life. He sneered to himself as she climbed out and hefted her rucksack. It seemed heavy. Too heavy for a pack of sandwiches and a can of coke.

His curiosity dragged his eyed from the Ram, which had been his initial target, and he focussed once more on the woman.

Tall, athletic, well-groomed and shapely. Despite the baggy jumpsuit, she was very attractive. Late twenties, thirty maybe.

Very nice.

He watched as she retrieved a rucksack from the passenger side and extracted a military style webbing belt, hung with pouches, and clipped it around her waist, plugging in a broad, flat cable which emerged from the waistband of the suit.

'Maybe she's a fucking suicide bomber!' he joked to himself.

It was quiet, the thin drizzle keeping the day trippers away. The Ram was the only car in the parking area.

There were no cameras, he had already checked.

But now she seemed to be checking too! She was gazing carefully around. Definitely checking for cameras. His curiosity rose even further. What the fuck? This was something different.

She fumbled in a pocket and extracted something, then rolled a pair of dice across the nearby picnic table. She looked at the score, then consulted a small notebook. She took a deep breath, had a last look around, then to the watcher's amazement she peeled down the breast pockets of her suit, revealing well filled pink breasts. She pulled them fully through the square patches where the pockets had been, then tightened thin pull cords around them, trapping them and constricting them. She would be unable to hide them again in a hurry.

She was effectively topless for all to see, the tight cords already causing the naked tits to swell and ride more proudly on her chest.

The watcher stared, again mouthing silently "What the Fuck?"

She put away her dice and her precious little book, then shouldered her rucksack.

He shrank deeper into the bushes as she turned towards him, and with her hands firmly clasped behind her back, she strode purposefully forward, her proud breasts now sticking straight out in front of her, swaying and trembling with every step.

So lost in her purpose was she that he could have touched her as she passed him. He could even smell her perfume. Her breasts were now swollen round globes, tipped with puckered pink nipples, already damp with the rain.

He held his breath as she passed, letting her get a good hundred yards ahead before he began to creep after her.

Had she been ten minutes later, she would have picked up the extra bulletin on the car radio, and perhaps have turned back.

But she didn't.

Counting her paces carefully, she turned off the public path at the planned point and began to penetrate the thick forest undergrowth. She continued to stride forward, hands behind her, making no attempt to protect her breasts from the twigs and branches.

Sam Dawes, serial sex offender, convicted rapist and sadistic murderer, freshly escaped from prison that morning, sent his thanks to all the God's he could think of, and like the hungry predator that he was, followed his prey in silence.

The rain increased, creating a welcome background noise. He kept his distance, off to one side and a hundred yards behind.

They walked for at least an hour. Their clothes were now soaked, but neither hunter nor prey relaxed the pace. The forest was silent but for the sound of the rain.

Suddenly she stopped.

He froze.

She turned, and for a moment he thought he was discovered, but she was only checking her bearings. She turned slightly to her left and strode on again.

Another hundred yards and she stopped again, then stepped forward and seemed to disappear.

Sam frowned, staring through the wet trees, until gradually he made out an outline. He had always heard that there were no straight lines in nature, but there was a straight line! He stared at it until he could make out the corner of a wall.

Completely overgrown, almost invisible, but it was a wall nevertheless.

Silently he glided forward. He could hear her humming. Closer still and he could make out the rest of the wall. The remains of a hut of some sort. No visible roof, just a section of wall, green with moss and ivy, deep in the shadow of the trees.

He reached the wall and saw the slightly crushed undergrowth where she had walked around behind it.

She was still humming, and he could hear tiny movements. She was unpacking her bag.

From the moment the dice had forced her to expose her breasts in the car park her arousal had climbed. The thrill of the cold rain landing at random on her tender skin, the knowledge that she was out in public, exposed with no chance of covering up in time, had made her want to massage her tits and masturbate. But the dice hadn't given permission. The score line in her little book had simply said "Expose breasts, secure and bind with twine. Do not protect. Continue."

So she had obeyed her own handwritten orders, chosen for her by the dice.

Another throw might have made her strip naked, or masturbate in public, or any one of dozens of variations.

But sticking rigidly to the rules, she did exactly what she was told.

She strode forward without flinching, hands behind her back and breasts bouncing. She felt them swelling because of the tightly drawn twine, felt her nipples puckering and tingling from the cold rain and the engorgement.

Twigs brushed them, some scratched, some whipped softly across them. All of the sensations continued to excite her. She was grateful she had been allowed the panties. They were holding the dildo's in place despite the warm slippery wetness which was now flooding her.

Finally she reached her destination.

 

With infinite caution he moved aside a few ivy leaves and found a crack between two stones. He peered in to watch her.

The hut had partially collapsed but most of two walls still stood, making a sheltered corner. The roof had partially fallen in, making it invisible from outside, but still covering a good area inside. It made a reasonably dry area, just high enough to walk around in.

She was systematically laying out lengths of rope, pieces of chain, leather straps. She was attaching small electronic boxes, clockwork devices of different sorts, an iPad with an interface cable. There was an area of ground free of rocks to which all the ropes and chains seemed to lead. The other ends were tied or looped around heavy rocks or stretched out to tree trunks.

She seemed to have finished that part of her plan, and now began the next phase.

She reached into the bag and his eyes narrowed as she clipped croc clips to her nipples. She hissed air inwards as they bit, but allowed herself no pause as the sharp pain shot through her now purple swollen breasts. Had Sam been able to read her plans he would have seen that no flinching from pain was allowed. She must unhesitatingly do whatever the dice had chosen for her.

She connected the breast wires to the croc clips.

Sam could not believe his eyes, or his luck.

He had been out of prison for only a few hours, and this gift had fallen straight into his hands. Rich, beautiful, kinky. Defenceless and alone, and seemingly preparing herself for exactly the sort of treatment he might have given her anyway, before he killed her.

They would never be able to pin this one on him.

He settled more comfortably to watch the show, his padded khaki State Trooper's jacket warm and comfortable, with only a little blood on it. The Trooper would live, Sam had merely broken his nose with a rock.

The woman was now attaching herself to all the various ropes and chains, and plugging the cable ends into a controlling electronic box of some kind.

Some of the ropes were fastened to her wrists and ankles, others were hooked to her clothing.

Holding her iPad, she lay down and spread her legs wide. She pulled her ankle ropes taught. She pressed a few keys and motors whirred. Ropes tightened as powerful little actuators pulled. The wires attached to her clothing began to pull at zips and flaps and Velcro.

Satisfied at last that all was ready, she stopped the motors before anything was exposed. She had to be helpless when that happened. She gagged herself and fitted a blindfold, flicking just one side up so that she could see to perform her last task.

Inside she was fizzing with excitement. Would it all work? Would it give her the experience she longed for, or would she lie there bored and cold until the iPad finally released her. Would the shocks to her tits and clit be too much, or not enough? Her mouth was dry. She listened carefully. Not a sound. Even the rain had stopped and the day was getting warmer. All she could hear was the dripping of leaves. Taking a deep breath she pressed the 'GO' button, tossed the iPad out of reach and flipped the final eyepiece down.

No going back now. There was nothing she could do but accept whatever the program decided to do to her.

The ropes holding her wrists tightened as expected, pulling her arms outward and above her head. Now there was nothing she could do. Spreadeagled, she was on her way. With a thrill she felt a tug on one of her trouser legs. Her clothing was being pulled in all directions by little tugs here and there at random. She felt the first tremor of her anal vibrator, then a twinge of electricity fizz sharply across her already hyper sensitized nipples.

It was working. She relaxed and let herself submit to her fate, and the warm arousal it brought.

As each device was told by the iPad to do its work more skin was revealed, fizzing electrical pulses grew in strength, dildos pulsed and vibrated.

Beth knew her first orgasm couldn't be far away, but she was hoping for much more than that. At home, while her husband was on the golf course, she had enjoyed many a sweaty, throbbing, automated climax. Taking advice or challenges from on line friends, she had experimented with all sorts of bondage techniques, combined with widely varying arousal techniques. At first it had been just a scarf tied to the headboard, or a leg spreader made from a broom handle. Then she had graduated to other rooms in the large house. The most fertile room was the basement, where all the tools and hardware were stored. There she had first made herself endure clothes pegs clipped to her nipples and labia for a set time. There she had realised that deciding for herself how long she should endure was not enough. She wanted some way of giving over control. Then she thought about the dice. She would allocate a set time for each score of the dice, and force herself to stick to it. Gradually she assigned more and more decision making to the dice, and gradually surrendered herself to chance.

At work Beth had daydreamed about different ways to stimulate or torment herself, using the dice to decide every aspect of her fate. As an IT specialist she had access to electronic hardware and software which could be adapted to her peculiar needs. She developed a control program which could control a number of devices at once. Actuators for pulling at clothing, motors for tightening bonds, digital signals for turning electrical pulses up or down, faster or slower. She could easily turn vibrators on and off, or torment herself by setting the iPad to 'random', then never knowing when it would strike, take her to the brink of satisfaction before switching off again.

And so, using the dice to decide the settings she must apply to herself, the situation she must be in, her state of dress or undress, she developed for herself a never ending variance of sexual excitement to keep her amused as her husband improved his handicap.