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captives

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The march of the captive, male and female

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If you do everything right, you'll get some bottles of wine tonight and no spanking.
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...Emma knew this forest pretty well and had gone on walks in it lots of times. Most people never strayed too far from the visitors' centre in the south, but she enjoyed exploring the deeper parts, criss-crossed with fire roads, footpaths and trails, where it was pretty easy to not run into anybody for hours or turn somewhere to avoid an encounter.

She knew it was the perfect opportunity to live out her fantasy. She did lots of dry runs, making sure she could avoid meeting anyone on the trails or even getting seen for that matter. For the real deal, she could make no mistakes. After all, a runaway slave can't make a mistake, otherwise it'll be back to the plantation for them. That's right. For this adventure, Emma was going to be an escaped slave, just like those girls in the pictures created by a person called Tibool that she saw a long time ago.

Emma's backpack was hidden at one end of the forest, with most of her stuff in it. She was just wearing a simple summer dress and a pair of flip-flops. More importantly, in a tiny cloth bag she took with her there was something very interesting: a pair of authentic leg irons and handcuffs. She got them from Etsy and couldn't wait for a chance to use them in a real environment.

As she walked, part of her was looking for any excuse to bail out of this adventure. Cyclists on the trail? People walking their dogs? Workers doing maintenance? But she didn't see anyone for the entire half an hour it took her to get to the starting point.

Emma was getting excited and a bit scared now. She was really about to do this. She emptied the bag, the shackles falling on the ground with a loud thud, together with a pair of scissors. Yes, she wasn't going to make it easy on herself. Emma stepped out of her flip flops, feeling the soft grass under her feet. She picked up the scissors and put the blades around the straps, easily snipping through them. The realization was exhilarating: her shoes were now useless. She'd have to remain barefoot for her adventure, just like a real slave.

The girl dropped her flip-flops, the scissors and the bag into a nearby dog mess bin. Now for the second part. She wrapped the shackles around her ankles. She had done it before but at home and with the key handy. But now... The key was a few miles away. Emma looked around once again. Nobody. She hadn't seen anyone since she dropped off her backpack. She must have walked around in this area half a dozen times before, always managing to avoid people. But what if...?

No. No backing out. Emma took a few deep breaths and squeezed the cuffs. Click. Click. Click. Each click made her feel weaker in her knees. There was that familiar feeling at the bottom of her stomach. The knowledge that there is definitely no way back now. And she wasn't done yet. She picked up the handcuffs and put them on, the cool metal kissing her wrists, preparing to close them.

Wait. No. Just one more thing. Emma wandered over to the bin, the jangle of her chains, she could swear, echoing all across the forest. She took out the scissors and lifted her dress. With a couple more snips, her - already slightly moist! - panties were off, making her feel even more vulnerable, her most intimate parts now exposed to the cool forest air. It took her quite an amount of willpower to not start rubbing herself there and then but... that would ruin all the fun, wouldn't it? The panties and the scissors went back into the bin. Hopefully nobody will look inside.

Yes. The handcuffs. On they went and with a few more clicks, that was it. Emma's hands were cuffed behind her back. Barefoot, shackled and exposed, she really had become an escaped slave. Nervously looking around, she crossed the road and made her first step towards freedom...
 
no-right-to-shoes said:
View attachment 1348671

...Emma knew this forest pretty well and had gone on walks in it lots of times. Most people never strayed too far from the visitors' centre in the south, but she enjoyed exploring the deeper parts, criss-crossed with fire roads, footpaths and trails, where it was pretty easy to not run into anybody for hours or turn somewhere to avoid an encounter.

She knew it was the perfect opportunity to live out her fantasy. She did lots of dry runs, making sure she could avoid meeting anyone on the trails or even getting seen for that matter. For the real deal, she could make no mistakes. After all, a runaway slave can't make a mistake, otherwise it'll be back to the plantation for them. That's right. For this adventure, Emma was going to be an escaped slave, just like those girls in the pictures created by a person called Tibool that she saw a long time ago.

Emma's backpack was hidden at one end of the forest, with most of her stuff in it. She was just wearing a simple summer dress and a pair of flip-flops. More importantly, in a tiny cloth bag she took with her there was something very interesting: a pair of authentic leg irons and handcuffs. She got them from Etsy and couldn't wait for a chance to use them in a real environment.

As she walked, part of her was looking for any excuse to bail out of this adventure. Cyclists on the trail? People walking their dogs? Workers doing maintenance? But she didn't see anyone for the entire half an hour it took her to get to the starting point.

Emma was getting excited and a bit scared now. She was really about to do this. She emptied the bag, the shackles falling on the ground with a loud thud, together with a pair of scissors. Yes, she wasn't going to make it easy on herself. Emma stepped out of her flip flops, feeling the soft grass under her feet. She picked up the scissors and put the blades around the straps, easily snipping through them. The realization was exhilarating: her shoes were now useless. She'd have to remain barefoot for her adventure, just like a real slave.

The girl dropped her flip-flops, the scissors and the bag into a nearby dog mess bin. Now for the second part. She wrapped the shackles around her ankles. She had done it before but at home and with the key handy. But now... The key was a few miles away. Emma looked around once again. Nobody. She hadn't seen anyone since she dropped off her backpack. She must have walked around in this area half a dozen times before, always managing to avoid people. But what if...?

No. No backing out. Emma took a few deep breaths and squeezed the cuffs. Click. Click. Click. Each click made her feel weaker in her knees. There was that familiar feeling at the bottom of her stomach. The knowledge that there is definitely no way back now. And she wasn't done yet. She picked up the handcuffs and put them on, the cool metal kissing her wrists, preparing to close them.

Wait. No. Just one more thing. Emma wandered over to the bin, the jangle of her chains, she could swear, echoing all across the forest. She took out the scissors and lifted her dress. With a couple more snips, her - already slightly moist! - panties were off, making her feel even more vulnerable, her most intimate parts now exposed to the cool forest air. It took her quite an amount of willpower to not start rubbing herself there and then but... that would ruin all the fun, wouldn't it? The panties and the scissors went back into the bin. Hopefully nobody will look inside.

Yes. The handcuffs. On they went and with a few more clicks, that was it. Emma's hands were cuffed behind her back. Barefoot, shackled and exposed, she really had become an escaped slave. Nervously looking around, she crossed the road and made her first step towards freedom...
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What an intriguing story! Even if you don't write more that was a great read!!!
 
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