"SUZY," Chapter 2

Post your fictional selfbondage/bondage/chastity/CD stories here.
Post Reply
Cardaniel
*
Posts: 5
Joined: 24 Feb 2017, 20:15

"SUZY," Chapter 2

Post by Cardaniel »

SUZY

by Cardaniel

Chapter 2 (See earlier post for chapter 1)

Susan awoke, shivering intensely again. The cold felt almost like a cruel physical assault, instantly hurling her into alertness with a pounding heart and a need to fight back. She started to wriggle violently, her only way of warming her body.

She felt the forces building up again, sending her towards another orgasm, until she realized suddenly: It's getting light!

There were still no colors in the world, only gray, darker gray, and black. But she could see the outlines of things.

She began hearing the chirping of birds. She didn't know whether the world around her apartment building was coming to life as the day began. But the forest certainly was.

Her heart started racing. I've only got a few minutes at the most! she thought. Any longer and it's too late!

Her headache had receded, but her thirst raged more intensely than ever. And the shivering seemed to consume her entire body. Even her toes were doing it.

She needed to pee much more badly than before. Just hold off, she ordered herself sternly. I should be out of this trap in a few minutes. You can hold it that long, Susan!

She twisted to bring the padlock dial into view once more. She grunted as she bent as much as she could, trying to bring the dial as close to her eyes as she could get it -- still several feet away, nevertheless.

The illumination grew with maddening slowness. Come on, she thought, come on! Just a little more light!

She could see the white markings now, around the dial! Some of them, anyway. There were short notches around the edge, every fifth one longer, running farther towards the center. She could see a hint of numbers on either side of each of the longer notches.

She groaned as she realized what a problem her nearsightedness presented now. By now, she thought, I could read the dial, if I had my glasses. But as it is, I'm just seeing blurs. She recalled that rather than having single digits for 0 and for 5, which she could have detected, this dial had them as 00 and 05. Every pair of digits looked the same to her from where she was.

Then she squeezed her eyes tightly shut. No, she thought, no, no, no.

She'd just heard a car go by, out on the street. A few seconds later, another. The rush of morning traffic was beginning.

It's too late already, she wailed within herself. I've missed my chance!

I can either try to get home, and be caught for sure. Or I can call for help and be found. Either way, shame, embarrassment, neverending mortification. Even if I move away to a new town, and live where nobody knows, I'll know there are people who've seen me, all of me, stared at me -- taken pictures of me!! They'll have their phones with them! They'll all get pictures. The pictures will be on the Internet...

Her fears of what would happen hadn't gotten to the point of considering the Internet before. Pictures of me, naked and chained, she thought, will go around the world! There's no place on Earth where I won't be known as the Naked Bondage Girl Who Got Caught!

For the first time, she thought: What if I waited through the whole day?

It seemed too much. It was about 6 a.m. now. The daylight, now in late spring, would last until about 7:30 p.m., maybe a little later. Thirteen or fourteen hours. I'd have to hide out in the woods, she told herself, naked and bound, for fourteen hours!

Yet she felt some measure of relief from the building tension, and the threat of panic began to recede: she now had an alternative to trying to get home in full daylight, which was impossible, or calling for help, which was unthinkable.

But I still have to get free from this tree! she told herself. Even if I stay in the forest all day, I can't do it like this! Everything aches from not being able to move, my jaw is killing me from having the gag in all night, and I WANT A DRINK!

The small patches of sky she could see through the branches of the trees were fully daylight-blue now. If I can't read the padlock dial now, she thought with a shudder, I'll never be able to.

She twisted and raised herself on her elbow once more. All the digits were there, but they still stubbornly refused to resolve themselves.

A wave of fear ran through her, as the evidence grew that she could never unlock the padlock. She felt her bladder starting to let go. She closed her eyes, breathed rapidly, and concentrated on regaining control, conscious of the tide of panic turning one more time, rising to engulf her. I can't give up! she shouted silently at herself. I can't let it come down to calling for help or dying!

She raised herself up, and looked at the dial once more, squinting as hard as she could. She had a lifetime of practice squinting.

There! Those two digits there both look rounded! All the other pairs have something jagged about them except those two. There aren't any 8s on the dial. Those have to be 0s.

Overhead, she saw that a layer of clouds was creeping across the sky. The day was still bright, but it wouldn't be for long.

She turned the dial slowly in a full circle clockwise to line up the tumblers, careful to keep track of where 00 was, and continued turning to put it 00 the top of the dial before lying back to rest. Then she rose up on her elbow again.

The combination was 13 - 33 - 7. It had been on a slip enclosed in the box the lock came in. Susan had not paid attention to the slip. But Suzy did, last night.

Susan turned the dial carefully clockwise, not wanting to lose her place on the dial. 35 at the top... 30... 25...20... 15... just two more notches. There! 13.

She didn't want to stop there, but she had to. Her entire body was cramping from the effort to stay twisted, and propped on her elbow, so as to be able to see the dial. The dial won't go anywhere, she reminded herself. It'll stay at 13.

As soon as she could, she twisted and propped herself up again, carefully turning the dial counter-clockwise, a full turn to 13 again, and past it to 15, 20, 25, 30... 33.

Needing to rest again but ordering herself not to, she turned it clockwise once more. 30... 25... 20... 15... 10... 7.

Her heart pounding, she pulled on the shackle.

Nothing. It was as firmly locked as ever.

She kept pulling on it, disbelieving, her heart thundering against the walls of her chest, conscious again of the panic looming. She pushed it away, lay back to rest, then started to cry again. She stopped herself when she remembered the danger of that. And she wanted a drink so badly! And a warm blanket to wrap herself in.

She twisted once more to bring the dial into view. The number at the top, she reminded herself, should still be 7. She backtracked to where 00 was, and tried the combination again, more deliberately than before, taking extra care to stop as exactly as she could on each number. And pulled on the shackle.

Nothing.

This can't be, she thought, it can't be! I know that was the combination! Suzy got a really clear look at it last night, committed it to memory! Something is wrong! Maybe the lock is defective! Maybe they put the wrong combination slip in the box!

Her breath began coming deeper, faster. And helplessly, shockingly, she felt her bladder beginning to let go again. She tried to recover control, but this time couldn't focus through her terror. She felt the warm stream of urine squirting out from between her legs, through the chain, flowing down her thigh on both the front and back, to puddle underneath her hip.

She felt intense nausea building, partially from her disgust at peeing on herself -- the smell was now reaching her nose -- but mostly from the billowing fear that she was trapped here to die, that no escape was possible. She worked desperately to hold back the contents of her stomach. If I vomit with the gag in, she told herself, I'll choke on it!

Somehow the nausea passed, but the fear did not. I can't get out of this! she wailed in her mind, over and over. Either I die slowly of thirst here, or else scream for help and then live in a world where everyone stares and points, shares jokes about me, and trades nude images of me!

She began crying uncontrollably, opening up a third option of dying immediately by plugging up her only airway with snot.

Wait! she thought suddenly.

I never did try to open this lock before. I assumed without thinking about it that it worked the same way as my locker in high school. What if I'm not supposed to make a full turn past 13 to get to 33? What if I just go directly from 13 to 33?

Her fingers trembling, the ache in her shoulder building to agony from the repeated efforts necessary to get up to see the dial, ravaged with thirst, her mind hardly daring to hope, knowing she could be smashed down into despair again, she looked at the dial once more. As she did, the sunlight dimmed, the approaching cloud cover now crossing in front of the sun. No matter how hard she squinted, she couldn't make out any of the numbers now.

But it should still be 7 at the top, she told herself. I haven't moved it since I finished the last try.

Carefully, she moved what she hoped was 00 to the top, made a full clockwise turn of the dial, and tried the combination one more time, leaving out the full turn past 13.

She almost screamed in relief when the shackle popped open.

She laid back, breathing hard, thinking: Water! Water! Just get me some water!

Fumbling, she removed the now-open padlock, nearly screamed again at the pain of straightening out her legs, untangled her wrists from the hogtie chain. She squirmed back away from the tree, inchworming, lifting her butt with her fingers, walking back on her fingers and letting her legs follow.

She felt the resistance of the shoelace tied above, tugging on the one securing her ball gag. She jerked her head and the knot untied itself. It took an effort to open her mouth wide enough to push the gag out with her tongue, but she managed at last, and then had to bite back still another scream at the pain of closing her jaws after they'd been held open so long.

There HAS to be water around here, she thought.

She backed herself against a tree and, grunting and squeezing her eyes shut with effort, laboriously and clumsily worked herself to a standing position. Her anxiety level shot still higher -- she knew she was potentially making herself more visible by standing, if there was anyone around to see -- but she badly needed to be able to see farther than she could from ground level. If there was water in the area, she needed to find it fast.

She groaned as her eyes completed a sweep of the area. She hadn't seen water in any direction.

It's not just going to come to me, she told herself. I have to go looking for it.

She remembered approximately the direction of the street from here. She didn't want to get any closer to it -- she would have to eventually, but that was a worry for later -- but she didn't want to get too much farther from it either. She decided to compromise by going to the side, parallel to the street. She started to lie back on the ground, but realized she could cover ground much more quickly by hopping than squirming.

As she began hopping, she felt a wordless discomfort. As nearly as she could read it, it seemed to be trying to stop her from getting away from the area where she had spent the night. She couldn't really see any sense in it. She was leaving the combo padlock, gag, and one chain behind, but she had no reason to retrieve them. She intended never to use them again. Maybe, she thought, it was just a sentimental attachment to the place where I had the two most intense orgasms of my life. That, she told herself, doesn't really make much sense either, considering the amount of fear and outright terror I also experienced in that same place. Anyway, the important place to return to is home. Tonight that same glow I saw last night will be coming from there. I'll be able to find it.

Her desperate need of water cut off any further speculation on the cause of the mental discomfort, or even awareness of it. The only thing important in her world was water.

She had to hop carefully: it hurt when her feet landed on too many of those little pebbles, so she had to keep picking out a landing place that was relatively clear of them, requiring her to keep her eyes focused on the ground directly below her, rather than at a distance. It occurred to her that such picking and choosing of her exact route was taking her off the line she'd wanted to follow, but that didn't seem sufficiently important to worry about.

Her breasts bounced as she hopped, making her, once more, intensely conscious of being naked. A flush of horror washed through her suddenly, as she momentarily felt positive she was being watched. She paused to listen, but couldn't hear any sound of human life but her own pounding heart, and automobile traffic faintly in the distance.

After about ten minutes, as her desperation grew, she finally located, by its soft bubbling sound, a tiny stream of runoff from the recent rain. She flopped down lengthwise in the stream on her stomach, letting the precious water run into her mouth.

The undergrowth consisted largely of small bushes, growing to within about two feet from the smaller trees, four feet from the larger ones. After drinking her fill, and feeling much better -- her headache was gone now, the temperature had begun warming quickly after daybreak, and best of all she wasn't being driven crazy by thirst anymore -- she wormed her way within the nearest cluster of bushes and curled up on her side among them, out of sight of anyone more than a few feet away. Completely exhausted by a night of tension, exertion, and little sleep, protected from the sun by overhead boughs, feeling safe from detection, feeling the warm air around her like a blanket, she drifted off in minutes.

* * * * *

When she awoke, it was much darker than it had been. That can't be! she thought. There's no way I slept that long.

The day had turned out very warm, almost hot, despite the clouds, and it was humid, much more so than earlier, to the point that the air smelled wet.

And then she heard the first distant rumble.

She shook her head vigorously, trying, by denial, to change the course of what she knew was about to happen.

Over the next few minutes, the light grew still more dim, and the temperature seemed to drop by about ten degrees. There was another rumble, louder, and the first raindrops fell on her as she lay curled up in her shelter of bushes.

The rain quickly grew harder, and Susan's whole body jerked at the sudden flash of light, followed shortly after by a rattling boom of thunder.

Her first instinct told her to get under a tree for protection, but her memory reminded her that would be the worst thing to do. The trees are the targets!

Rain was running into her ear. Susan turned onto her stomach and brought her knees up underneath her, resting her chest on her thighs so that her face was out of the water now covering the ground, her cuffed hands resting inevitably in the small of her back, somehow feeling that the kneeling fetal position would present the smallest target while preventing her being drowned. The rain pounded down on her back, flowing in torrents between her arms to her neck and down its sides, with another river of it running down between her buttocks. She screamed when a sudden blinding flash was followed almost instantly by an ear-pounding explosion -- thunder heard from so close sounds nothing like the drawn-out rumbling echo of more distant thunder, but more like a single blast of a sledge hammer striking a bucket with your head inside it.

Susan was shivering again, feeling both cold and terrified, whimpering "Make it stop make it stop make it stop!"

The most intense part of the cloudburst abated after perhaps ten minutes, and it seemed the lightning strikes were getting more distant. A steady but less threatening rain continued for some time after that. The sky, while still gray, was significantly brighter now.

Susan finally turned back onto her side in what had now become a bed of mud. She was exhausted from what seemed an endless series of adrenaline rushes, and still shivering. She looked around herself, and gasped when she saw that a tree, perhaps thirty feet away, was now a blackened cinder, still smoking, though any fire there might have been had been doused by the downpour. If I'd tried to hide under a tree, she told herself, it might have been that one!

She couldn't stand the shivering anymore. She remembered, then, that she had found one way to deal with it.

She closed her eyes and occupied her mind with the fact of being in bondage. She concentrated on the restraint. Hands trapped behind her. Ankles cuffed together, unable to walk.

Her hips began twitching, almost on their own, without her intention. Gently, she began pulling up on the chain through her sore vaginal cleft, feeling the tingling that radiated outward from there. She began grunting, softly at first, and gradually with greater urgency as her whole body entered the game, writhing, wriggling, convulsing. She could feel the climax drawing closer, and she invited it, encouraged it, opened her soul to it.

Uninvited, the thought of how hard it was going to be to get herself home entered her mind again, like a pesky fly. She swatted it away.

And then the orgasm hit, and she clamped down on a scream, every part of her in rippling motion, heat shooting outward from between her legs to her outermost extremities. There!! Now!! There!!

She blinked and shook herself. She seemed to have actually fainted this time. The glow of her excitement remained with her. She wasn't shivering anymore.

She wasn't surprised to feel sleep coming over her again. The aftereffects of intense sexual excitement and release, following debilitating terror, seemed to lead to that.

* * * * *

Susan shook herself awake after a time. She wasn't feeling any real urgency. There was nothing she could do to get herself home until nightfall. She couldn't even try to get closer to the street in preparation -- from here, she had no idea in what direction it was, and there was no nighttime glow of lights to help. The heat of the day had returned following the storm, so she was comfortable. She did feel a little thirsty, and a lot hungry. It was... well, it had to be afternoon by now, and she hadn't eaten since last night.

She managed to get up onto her knees and then tried throwing her weight backward. It worked -- she was able to get to a standing position without a tree to lean against.

The continued cloud cover made it impossible to estimate the time of day, but the light that there was didn't have the hue that suggested approaching twilight. Susan supposed it was about three o'clock, within an hour either way, but that was really just a guess.

She hopped back to the stream, now swollen and flowing faster with runoff from the storm, and took another long drink, lying on her stomach along the flow of the water again.

Since the time was now getting closer, she began doing what she had been steadfastly avoiding: thinking in more detail about what she would have to do, beginning with crossing the road. She had been shutting down all consideration of it until now, but she knew she needed to figure some things out in advance.

For a moment she was aware of a spike in the level of the background sexual arousal, a greater consciousness of her body. She almost invited it, gave in to it, but in the end pushed it away. I have to think about tonight! she told herself sternly.

She would wait, of course, until traffic had nearly completely ceased before hopping into the street. That would be around midnight, perhaps. She should do it, she decided, as near as possible to her goal on the other side, which should be the right-hand end of her apartment building, which offered what she thought of as the rear entrance. The building faced the street in its long direction, with the two short sides on left and right. The entrance on the left went into a small lobby with Nellie's office, the mailboxes, and a common room with some vending machines, with the corridor to the apartments beyond that. Tenants might find a reason to be there at almost any time of the day or night. The entrance on the right side, in contrast, opened directly into the corridor. The parking lot was behind the building, and people coming from there or going to it might use either entrance, but more likely the one on the left, Susan judged. She would feel much safer using the door on the right. She would need to unlock the door and open it just a crack, to make sure there were no...

Susan's eyes flew wide open suddenly, and she gasped in horror. Unlock! Of course she had to unlock it! That door was always locked. Her apartment key opened it. Where was the key??

A soft whimper started at the back of Susan's throat. What had Suzy done with the key?

Susan thought back to Suzy's inebriated journey to this place, concentrating. Suzy did have the key with her, thought Susan. I remember that. What did Suzy do with it? Leave it with my clothes? No, I remember Suzy keeping it, attaching importance to it. Did she still have it when she reached the tree?

Susan thought the answer was yes to that, but this part was more hazy.

It suddenly came back to Susan. She thought she understood why it had slipped her mind. By the time Suzy had gotten to the tree, she was so excited, her sexual fluids almost squirting from between her legs, so eager to get started, and of course so drunk, that she had found it very hard to focus any attention on the key, but now Susan remembered Suzy bending down, just before she opened the trash bag and emptied its contents of chains, cuffs, and locks onto the ground, and dropping the key at the base of a tree. Not the same tree Suzy had locked Susan around afterward. An adjacent one. Suzy had intended for it to be easy to find.

Relief flooded through Susan. I just have to go back and...

She whimpered yet again. Where was it from here??

THAT was what that subconscious alarm had been about, Susan thought, the one telling me not to leave the tree where I'd spent the night. That was Suzy trying to remind me! But Susan had been nearly insane with thirst at the time, and the alarm couldn't get through.

And now, in this entire forest, Susan had to find that one particular tree. She knew it must be within... probably fifty yards of where she was now, and she knew the direction -- approximately. At least she knew from which direction she'd made her final approach to the stream. But she hadn't been able to maintain anything like a straight line of travel. She could start out in that direction, but it seemed impossible that she could follow the exact same jagged path she had used to get here.

The idea that she must have left tracks occurred to her. She looked along the nearby ground and groaned. She did see the impressions left in the mud by her hopping feet going from her bed in the bushes back to the stream, but that had been after the rain. If there had been any tracks she'd left before that, they had been on harder, dryer ground and the downpour seemed to have washed out any trace of them.

She would just have to search blindly, hoping against all odds...

She looked back at the stream. I can try more than once, she told herself. The stream itself should be pretty easy to come back to -- it's a long line of flowing water, not just a point. I can start out from here and try to find the tree, and if it seems like I've gone too far, I can come back to the start and try in a little different direction.

She looked at the sky again. Still doesn't have the color of late afternoon, she told herself. I think I have a few hours of daylight still.

She shuddered at the thought that the time might not be sufficient. If she didn't find the tree in daylight, there was certainly no possible way she could find it at night. She'd have to spend another entire long, cold night here, with no guarantee she'd be able to find the tree after sunrise. And if she did find it, then she'd have to wait for nightfall again to get home!

Susan worked her way, as she had before, to a standing position. She quailed again at the idea of anyone seeing her. At least the entire front of her body, her breasts, stomach, mound, thighs, were all coated in mud, cutting down on her visibility. Though only from the front. She knew her backside was clean from the rain.

Her stomach was continually growling with hunger now. She tried to put it out of her mind.

She turned in the direction she had come from, and began hopping.

It was that same, slow, careful hopping that had brought her here, picking her way ahead through patches of ground that threatened the least pain to her feet. She paused after every four or five hops to look around her for anything familiar.

Exactly as she feared, after she'd covered a distance she felt sure was about twice as far as she'd come from the tree, she failed to see any configuration of trees that suggested she had been there before. As an added worry, she didn't feel completely sure she would recognize the right place if she did see it. She might be looking right at it now. At least if she got close enough she'd spot the padlock and chain she'd left there. But from any significant distance, with all the other trees that interfered with a clear view, they would be easy to miss.

With another in a long series of internal groans, Susan turned and hopped back towards the stream, moving with fewer pauses but still keeping close watch for the tree she wanted.

She found the stream, downstream from the place she'd left it but near enough that she could see her starting point. She hopped back to it, arriving there with an odd mixture of relief and dejection: She'd succeeded in returning, which was important, but she had spent perhaps an hour of her limited remaining time without accomplishing anything.

She wasn't sure she wanted to spare the time for a drink, but the day was hot enough, and steamy after the rain, that she'd been sweating freely over the last hour, and she was feeling thirsty again, a sensation she had quickly come to hate. She dropped to the ground and wriggled back into the stream.

As she drank, she looked closely enough at one of the ever-present pebbles nearby to realize it was actually some type of nut. I could eat those! she thought in relief.

Caution held her back. She had no idea what the things were, and in particular whether they might be poisonous or, nearly as bad, allergenic.

I'd better wait, she thought, until I'm hungry enough that I don't even care anymore. I could go for days without food if I have to. Please, please, PLEASE don't make that necessary.

She got back upright and started hopping once more.

* * * * *

She was nearly ready to give in to complete despair during her third try. Every muscle in her legs trembled and ached, all the way from her buttocks to her feet, from all the hopping. Her breasts hurt from all the bouncing. And everything always had the same, unfamiliar look.

And, worst of all, the light was definitely failing now. It wasn't another approaching storm. The cloud cover had that orangey look of oncoming sunset. I'm going to be here another full day, she moaned within herself. At least. Ten hours of darkness, of shivering in the cold, of not knowing whether I can find the key tomorrow. And then fourteen hours of daylight waiting for another nightfall, if I do find the key. And starving, and trying to decide whether I can risk eating the nuts.

For the hundredth time, the thought of crying out for help came into her mind, and was rejected as firmly as ever. Susan pushed it away with her entire being. If I die out here, she told herself forcefully, that's still better than if anyone sees me. That wouldn't be just a momentary embarrassment. It would follow me all of my life.

She sucked in a sudden breath. That fallen tree! Susan thought it looked like the one she had detoured around just after she'd started out from last night's area.

She hopped closer. Yes! There's that small branch sticking out that I almost missed seeing and tripped over.

She hopped around the remembered obstacle, and looked beyond it. From here it should be...

She saw a glint at ground level. The padlock! Next to it was the chain, with the ball gag a few feet away.

As she hopped excitedly towards it, she realized how much harder it was to see now. She might have ten minutes of light left. At the most.

She dropped to her knees, seeing signs of her overnight stay at the base of the familiar tree that even the rain hadn't obliterated. She looked around. Which one...?

The rain had left a smooth layer of mud at the bases of most of the trees. Susan moaned as she realized it had probably covered up the key.

She looked at the tree immediately to her left. Suzy left it by this one, I think, Susan told herself.

She sat with her back against the chosen tree and scraped carefully through the mud with her fingers, several times back and forth. She wriggled sideways partway around the tree and tried again. And then back the other direction.

She shook her head. It wouldn't be on the back side of it, she told herself. It must be a different tree.

The light was gone now. That same glow she had seen last night, from the lights of the street and the windows of her building, lit the prospect in one direction very dimly. In the direction she wanted to see, in the direction from where she sat that she believed the key had been deposited, everything was pitch black.

She wriggled on the ground to her right. She was sure there was another tree that way, but she couldn't seem to find it. She backed up a few more inches and bumped into it. She patted and raked the ground behind her, and felt something longer and thinner than a rock. She scraped it into her hand, felt its shape.

YES!!!!! She curled her hand tightly around the key to her apartment.

(Concluded in chapter 3 -- another post)
Post Reply