“Good night, slave.” My captor said as he locked me in my cage for the night, just as he had every night for the past three months. But hopefully this would be the last night…

A little more then three months ago, I’d gone on a trip with several of my friends to this part of the world. We’d heard about the fighting and the violence, the crime and human trafficking but we thought that was just in the remote areas. We’d assumed, foolishly, that as foreign tourists, we’d be perfectly safe where we were.

But about three days into our trip, the tour bus we were traveling on was suddenly stopped and armed men swarmed aboard. At first, we hoped they were simply planning to steal our luggage, but then they ordered all of the young women off the bus. What could we do with guns thrust in our faces? We had no choice but to step off the bus, our hands raised.

More men waited outside. They tied out hands behind our backs, tied wooden bits between our teeth to silence our protests and pleas and herded us into the back of a military-style truck. With the canvas top closed tight, no one could see us inside nor could we see where we were being taken, until they stopped and let us out. It was a warehouse, or was originally, but it had been converted into a market, for the selling oh human beings. Stages were set up on which young women, naked and bound, were exposed to the crowds of buyers.

I was split up from my friends, herded in line for one of the stages with some other captive women. Before my turn on stage came, one of the slavers involved in this horrid scheme approached me with a pair of metal shears. With my hands tied, I could do nothing to stop him as he cut away my clothes. Trembling, I was dragged on stage.

The auction was brief, I was too bewildered by what was happening to process much of what was happening. The auctioneer shouted to the crowd, the crowd shouted back. I was turned this way and that, so they could see my naked body from every side. Then, just as abruptly as I had been dragged on stage, I was dragged off, now sold, and brought before the man who had bought me. He was old enough to be my father, but he had money. The car he drove us home in was an expensive foreign sports car...though I could appreciate little of it tied up in the trunk.

Once we got to his home, he took me first to his bedroom, where I was thrown on the bed and raped by him, the first of many I was forced to ensure, almost daily. Then he told me he was my master, I was his slave and I would have to obey. When he wasn’t using my body for his own pleasures, I was put to work around the house, cooking and cleaning. Whenever I disobeyed, resisted or messed up, or often simply because he felt like it, I would be severely punished, usually by being whipped with a reed cane on my ass, my breasts or my thighs.

My captivity was enforced with locks and chains. At all times, I wore a heavy metal collar around my neck and metal shackles on my wrists and ankles, all locked with old, heavy padlocks. Usually when working my hands would be chained in front of me, to give me some slight freedom, just enough to manage the domestic chores that filled most of my hours. At night, and when he raped me, my hands would be chained behind him, to ensure my helplessness.

For weeks, I looked desperately for any chance, any hope of escape or rescue, but my bondage was unyielding and I thought I’d never get the opportunity. Then out of the blue, the opportunity came. My captor had some men come to work on the house. I was kept locked in the basement the entire time, so they would not know I was there, a heavy duty gag keeping me muffled. But when I was let out, to clean up the house after them, I happened upon a small, broken piece of metal, discarded on the floor where the men had dropped it. I don’t know what it was originally from, but it was thin and strong and would suit my purposes.

I won’t tell you how I managed to hide the piece of metal and smuggle it down to my cage, but I did. At the back of the cage, there was a gap between it and the wall, which I could just reach with one hand slipped through the bars and that was where I hid the metal rod during the day when I was working. Then, at night, I recovered the piece and began to work on the locks securing the shackles and collar. It was quite difficult at first. With my hands cuffed behind my back I was forced to work solely by touch, but eventually I was able to spring the padlock on one cuff and free myself for the first time in weeks. Fortunately, the padlocks for all the shackles and collar, even the cage itself, were of the same type, so once I had one undone getting the rest were easy enough.

I didn’t dare make my escape then, though. This could be my only chance and if I were found out it would be disastrous. The basement door was locked, and with a different sort. Night after night, I would wait for my captor to lock me up and retire to his own comfortable bed, then I would free myself and go to work on the basement lock, until I figured it out as well.

I settled on tonight to make my escape, the moon was almost completely dark and I had been extra diligent serving my captor the wine at dinner. From my cleaning of the house, I had a good idea of the layout, finding my way through it in the dark would be no problem. I’d identified a blanket that would make do in the place of clothes and set aside some food in the kitchen for my escape.

The only doubtful thing was what I would do once out of the house. Though I knew the house well enough, I’d never been allowed outside the grounds and I had no idea what lay beyond those. I’d been locked in the trunk during my arrival, but from the length of the trip, the house could be miles away. Still, I had no choice but to risk it. I was desperate to finally be rid of my captor and escape this place.

I waited as he slowly climbed the rickety wooden stairs up out of the basement, everything going dark as he turned off the lights. Above I could hear floorboards creak as he headed to his room. I wanted as much head start as I could, but I didn’t dare start until I was sure he was asleep, lest I make some noise and have him come down and discover me in the middle of my escape.

When I finally dared it, things went smoothly. I got out the metal rod and with practiced motions slipped it into the lock of one of the shackles, manipulating it until it ‘clicked’ and the lock snapped open. I slipped it out, careful not to let the chains rattle as I brought my hands in front of me and repeated the process with the second lock. The ankle fetters and collar followed rapidly. I got the cage open and hurried to the basement door.

Out into the house proper. I crept cautiously around, my heart pounding, knowing if I was discovered now my punishment would be severe...though not as bad as the knowledge that I would have lost my once chance of escape and would be doomed to captivity here forever. I found the blanket and the food, then slipped out the back door. I crossed the lawn surrounding the house. Then I ran into an obstacle I hadn’t considered.

Around the house was a hall brick wall, topped with metal spikes to deter anyone from climbing it. There was a main gate out front and, around the back past the garden, a side gate. I’d hoped to go out this one, but as I reached it, I saw there was another lock on the gate, keeping it shut. Worse, it was a shiny, new lock, of a different kind from the ones I’d spent so long practicing. Still, I had no choice. I gritted my teeth, slipped the rod in and began to work on it.

As if to give me more incentive, behind me a light went on in the house. Fortunately, I was in shadows, so there was no chance of me being spotted, but I knew what it meant. My captor had gotten up from his bed and from previous experience when that happened it usually ended with him coming down to the basement to force himself upon me once again. Only this time, I wasn’t in my cage. I had only minutes to pick the lock before he discovered my escape.

“Just a little more...” I thought, the last tumbler remaining tricky to get into place. A shout from the house said I was running out of time. “Just a little longer...”