The time until Monday morning seemed to drag by, with me in a constant state of nervous anxiety. What would I say to her, how could I explain my behaviour without coming across as a sick pervert? Could I make up a lie? How did you come up with a believable explanation for being handcuffed and chained at the bottom of a hole – a fantom attacker did it? The note, the ice, and the fact that the police weren't crawling over the place all showed that to be a lie. As the time approached I began to feel physically sick.

And then there she was. Dafne is nearly forty, but looks after herself – definitely a bit of a cougar. That day she was dressed in tight jeans and high heels, which showed off her nice legs and tight arse, belted at her slender waist and a tight white T-shirt stretched over her ample breasts – quite over-dressed for our usual Monday coffee (I was in the more usual loose fitting long skirt and blouse, with flat shoes). I also noticed she was wearing more make-up and jewellery than was usual as she swept into the kitchen with a broad smile and talking some inconsequential nonsense about the approaching village fete.

Dafne is Dutch, very assertive and self-confident, and used to work in London before she and her husband moved to the country six months previously. They barged into village life and took over, as people used to a faster pace of life often do. Stefan had been something high up in a major city firm before 'retiring' - despite being a few years younger than his wife - and was now doing well-paid consultancy and held a few lucrative directorships, while she had run some kind of Internet-based business. She had introduced herself to me a few days after they arrived and never gave me the opportunity to refuse her friendship, even if I'd wanted to.

She was looking at me expectantly and I realised I had missed something important as I fretted about the subject were weren't discussing.

"Sorry, what did you say?" She smiled at my discomfort.

"I said I've got something to show you on the Internet, if you're interested." Oh boy, I thought exasperatedly as I brought in my laptop, is it a new jam-making recipe or a village fete website she's just knocked up? She tapped away for a minute and then turned the computer to face me. Suddenly my heart was racing as I saw a picture of me, in my rubber, in the hole, chained and cuffed.

I stared at the picture, my mind a blank, until it eventually started to unfreeze. How had she downloaded this photo - which she had obviously taken on Saturday as I lay there, unable to see her because of the blinkers - onto my computer? I took in the rest of the screen and realised to my even greater horror that this was not an image on my computer, it was a website, with the name www.devonbondagegirl.com.

"That's right," she said as she saw the look on my face, "You're an Internet star! I only set this up yesterday and there are no tags to bring anyone here, but some clever people have discovered you already." She leaned over and scrolled down, and I saw that there were more - lots more - pictures of me. At the bottom of the page there was a counter and it read "000153."

"Please, you've got to take it down!" I said desperately.

"Oh don't worry, nobody can tell it's you. It's wholly anonymous – at the moment." I heard the unspoken threat and looked at her smiling face.

"What do you want from me?" I asked with a mixture of suspicion and fear.

"Well, for starters, I'd like to know more about your little hobby. I'd also like to see your bondage equipment." I couldn't take this in, what was happening?

"Now!" she said as I hesitated and, although she was still smiling, there was a steely look in her eyes. In a daze, I meekly led her up to my bedroom and opened the blanket box where I kept everything.

"Put it on the bed for me, so I can see it better." I did so, laying out padlocks, chains, ropes, handcuffs, belts and gags – I was a little surprised myself at how much I had accumulated over the years.

"Nice – but what about sex toys, I'm sure you have a few of those!" Reluctantly, I opened a drawer and took out the various vibrators, dildos and butt plugs I owned and put those on the bed.

"Wow, impressive!" she said. "What about clothes? I know you're into rubber in a big way, let's see your collection." Feeling sick with embarrassment, I went into another blanket box and started to unload that – as well as the stuff I had been wearing on Saturday, there were several additional pairs of stockings, some crotchless panties, latex opera gloves, a mini-skirt and a sleeveless top. By the time I had put them all out, the bed was covered.

"Hang on, I'll be back in a second," she said and disappeared downstairs. I wanted to cry but realised that, despite everything, just handling the latex had turned me on. Just looking at everything laid out like this was exciting. Dafne was back less than a minute later and she was carrying her digital camera.

"A snap for the website, of you and all your stuff," she said, putting the camera to her face and pointing it at me.

"No!" I squealed, "You can't! I'll be recognised!"

"Hmm, you're right" she mused, as if it hadn't occurred to her. "I'll tell you what. If you put your hood on, you'll be okay. But if you do that, you need to take off your clothes first."

"What?!" I said, just too frightened and confused to understand.

"Simple – stay as you are and I take a picture of schoolteacher Sally with all her kinky gear, or strip and I take a picture of Devon bondage girl ready for another session." Now I understood. I picked up my latex hood.

"Clothes off first, hood second," Dafne said sternly. My hands were shaking as I unfastened the buttons of my blouse and pulled it off, then loosened my skirt and let it slide to the floor. I looked imploringly at Dafne but she motioned for me to continue, and I slowly removed my bra, covering my breasts with an arm, until I realised I needed both to pull down my knickers and, anyway, she'd already photographed my boobs.

As I kicked off my panties, I grabbed the hood and pulled it quickly over my head. As I did so there was a flash and I realised she had taken her first picture – it wasn't the last. I tried to cover my nakedness but she made me kneel down in front of the bed, legs wide, and spread my arms along the edge, fully exposing myself. After snapping a dozen posed shots, Dafne put down the camera and started to examine the bondage items with interest.

"Put this on for me, would you?" she said as she held out my ball gag with head harness, one of my favourites.

"Oh, please don't make me do this!" I begged in total embarrassment at the situation.

"Well, if you're not willing to indulge me, that's fine. A quick email to the chairman of school governors with a link to this site, updated with your name and address, should give him a clue as to what sort of person he has working for him."

"You wouldn't!" I exclaimed, genuinely shocked.

"Try me," she said with an evil smile on her face, holding out the gag. Reluctantly I took it, admitting defeat. I pushed the ball into my mouth and fastened the straps around my face, under my chin and over my head. Dafne came closer and, with a smile, ran her fingers over the ball and my lips.

"That's better. The sooner you learn to obey my commands, the better." She turned her attention to the chains and handcuffs, before selecting a length of white rope and walking around behind me.

"Put your hands behind your back," she ordered calmly, knowing I couldn't refuse. As I did so, she wrapped the rope around them, knotting it tightly and then cinching between my wrists until there was little room for movement and, when I twisted and struggled, it was clear she had done an efficient job – I would never break free. It gave me a curious feeling, one that I had never quite achieved with self-bondage - one of utter helplessness.

I felt her wrap the rope around my elbows and start to pull it tight, forcing my arms closer together. I let out an alarmed cry as she yanked on the rope until my elbows were only inches apart, before tying it and again cinching it. It felt like my shoulders were about to pop out of their sockets.

"We can work on that, so you're supple enough to have your arms fully pinned together." The thought of 'working on it' filled me with dread but I had no time to contemplate that as she wrapped more rope around my body, pinning my arms and squashing my breasts. She then tied rope around my waist and passed it between my legs as a crotch rope, pulling it so tight before tying it off that it pressed painfully against my clitoris as it cut between my pussy lips.

"There, don't you look a picture?" she said, then proved it by taking several of me, making me bend over and spread my legs so she could get a good shot of the crotch rope with my bound hands wriggling uselessly above it. I felt sick with shame that these photos would be displayed to the world, but at the same time, the feel of the ropes digging into me and the humiliation of my position were inexorably turning me on.

I felt afraid and confused as Dafne roughly led me into the bathroom. At her prompting, I awkwardly stepped into the empty bath and sat down on the cold porcelain. At her orders, I struggled to lie down and twist around until I was lying on my stomach with the lower half of my legs bent up behind me. She grabbed my ankles and wrapped rope around them, tying them across each other, which forced my knees apart against the sides of the bath.

I felt her applying more rope and then my head was snapped back as she tied my ankles to the D-ring on the top of my head harness and pulled it shorter until my ankles were only a foot or so from my head. I was struggling to breathe as the stretching of my neck restricted my airway and the fact that my weight was now all pressing down on my stomach and chest. I hardly noticed Dafne wandering around me, taking pictures from every possible angle. I could feel beads of sweat breaking out on my brow under the latex as every muscle in my body was strained by the strict bondage.

"Oh dear," I heard Dafne say with mock concern, "You're getting all hot and bothered. This will soon cool you down." Suddenly there was a jet of ice cold water in my face and I was struggling even more to breathe as the water seeped around the ball gag and started to fill my mouth. Meanwhile I could hear water rushing into the bath as she also turned on the cold water tap at full blast.

I realised that when I'd had a 'cold' shower before, I had never had it really cold as it was now, every drop stinging me like a needle. I could feel the water rising rapidly around me, inching up my prone body until it was lapping at my chin, and still I could hear the water rushing in. As the water started to touch my lower lip, the taps were finally turned off, leaving me straining to keep my mouth above the surface.

As I struggled to look up, I saw Dafne sitting on the edge of the bath, her hand trailing in the water and then cupping it and letting it dribble down my face.

"There, comfortable now?" she asked rhetorically. "After what I saw on Saturday, I'm guessing you're into the 'damsel in distress' scenario, so hopefully you'll enjoy this. I've just got a few things to do, but I'll be back soon to see how you're getting on." I struggled to scream 'No!' at her, but only succeeded in starting waves, splashing the water over my face and making me swallow a mouthful. Dafne disappeared from my view and I heard the bathroom door shut - I was alone. I panicked and tried to break free of my bonds, even though I knew it was hopeless, but I quickly stopped as I realised that, with every movement, I risked drowning myself.

I don't know how long she left me there but it felt like hours rather than the few minutes it probably was. I was freezing cold and couldn't relax for a moment as my muscles were held under such tension by the ropes. I felt myself starting to become a little delirious as I lay there, wondering how something I had enjoyed so much for so long had, in a matter of minutes, turned into such a nightmare.

I snapped back to reality when I heard a noise downstairs and then the bathroom door opened and she was back.

"Still here then?" she joked. "Do you want to get out?" I couldn't say yes or nod my head, I just made some vague noise to convey how desperately I needed release.

She cut the rope between my head and feet, the result of which was that my legs fell backwards and my head fell forwards, into the water. My body was so stiff I could hardly move and I couldn't get my head out of the water, which was now going up my nose and down my throat. I kicked wildly and desperately as everything started to become dark and my lungs were bursting. Just as I was about to pass out I managed to twist my body sufficiently to raise my head and, coughing, spluttering and gasping for breath, I broke the surface. Dafne cut the rope around my ankles and told me to get out, seeming not to notice or care about my distressed state. I hauled myself over the side of the bath and lay on the floor like a landed fish.

She untied my arms and I was finally able to stretch and get some circulation going again. The rope burns on my wrists and arms were quite vivid and, as I rubbed them, I realised that if I wanted to go out today, I would have to wear long sleeves to cover them up.

"I'm busy for the rest of the day, so I'll leave you to sort yourself out," Dafne said, leaning over my prone body, "But here's something to remind you of your new situation." As she said this she grabbed my hands and closed the bracelets of a pair of handcuffs around my wrists in front of me.

"Wha's goi' on? I are oo doi'g dis to ee?" I managed to ask, talking with difficulty around the gag. She looked at me with a broad smile.

"Let me explain," she said in a calm, patient tone, "I am what is called a dominant, which is someone who likes to take control, in a very intimate sense, of another person. In my case, I happen to like controlling submissive young women, like yourself. "

"Submissive?" I asked in confusion, "I don't know what you mean. I'm only putting up with you treating me like this because you're blackmailing me!"

"Oh, blackmail is such an ugly word," she tutted, "I don't want to expose you to your employers, really I don't. I think that, in time, you'll come to love playing games with me, you really will. But, until then, I just need a little leverage, just to keep you focused on what is important. Which, from now on, is obeying me."

I stared at her in disbelief, unable to process what she was saying. Obey her? Come to love being her submissive? It was all nonsense! This couldn't be happening, not to me, not in sleepy Devon!

"Ciao, see you in the morning," she said with a little wave, and then she was gone. I stared at the cuffs and twisted my arms this way and that, as though that was going to make any difference. I heard her leave the house and realised I was on my own with this problem.

My first priority was to remove the gag, which was making my jaw ache, and it was a huge relief when I managed to unbuckle the harness and pop the ball out. I also pulled off the hood, which was making my scalp sweat.

Next was to get out of the handcuffs, but when I went into my bedroom, all my toys, including the other sets of handcuffs and, crucially, all the keys, had gone. I checked drawers, cupboards and boxes, but they were nowhere to be found, and I had to conclude that Dafne had taken them all. I was stuck in the cuffs until she freed me.

I had to cut off the crotch rope with a kitchen knife and then I faced the problem of getting dressed. I was able to pull on a pair of track pants and trainers quite easily but, of course, I couldn't put a top on with my wrists cuffed. In the end, the only thing I could find to wear which didn't have sleeves or straps was a boob tube, so I looked a little odd, as if the handcuffs weren't bad enough.

I made myself something to eat, as it was now early evening and I hadn't eaten since breakfast, then sat down to try and work out what I was going to do about the situation I found myself in. I needed more information and the only place I thought I might find it was on that website she had shown me earlier.

I called it up and was shocked by what I found. The site had been updated and now opened with a close-up of my face, albeit hidden behind the latex mask, but it was clear and detailed, not just a grainy shot in the distance as before. Underneath this was some text, which I read with increasing dismay:

Hi, I'm Devon bondage girl, welcome to my site. I recently became the plaything of my Mistress and she has created this site so that you can all share in my love of bondage and my journey into submission. Mistress will post updates here whenever she can, so check back frequently. Maybe one day I'll have the courage to tell you my real name and I can stop hiding behind this mask. In the meantime, please enjoy!

The threat of exposure in the message was clear, but the way Dafne had called herself my 'Mistress' and me her 'plaything' was just as disturbing. It reinforced and clarified what she had told me, although it didn't make it any more acceptable. I had to put a stop to this as soon as possible!

Below the message were three links with thumbnail pictures, labelled 'In A Hole', 'My Toy Collection' and 'Soaking In The Bath'. I noticed that the counter had jumped to '014294'. I followed each link to find a matrix of thumbnail pictures behind them, showing me in the various situations. I checked each picture carefully to see if my identity or the identity of my house was revealed, but they were all, thankfully, anonymous.

As I browsed the pictures, I found myself becoming aroused by the views of me in tight bondage, and I remembered how good the ropes had felt, cutting into me and rubbing against my skin as I struggled vainly against them. For the first time, I started to appreciate the difference between tying myself up and being tied up. My hands moved down between my thighs, and then I was fingering myself, bringing myself to a noisy climax as I stared at my frightened eyes peering out through the hood, my lips stretched tight around the ball gag, slick with my saliva.

When I was done I slumped across the computer and sobbed quietly, utterly devoid of ideas of how I was going to escape. I went to bed miserable that night, my head spinning as I tried to work out what to do, but every time I thought about being tied up by Dafne I found my fingers in my pussy, working me to another orgasm. I did not sleep well, and my dreams were all of bondage and imprisonment.

The next morning I felt like shit but I had decided I needed to confront Dafne and stop this once and for all. I waited nervously for her to arrive and then showed her in.

"Ah, I see you've checked out the updates to the website," she said, indicating the laptop on the table, "and you're even more popular now. You have over 100,000 hits from all over the world!"

"Dafne, we have to talk," I started, "I don't like this, you have to unlock these –"

"I don't have to do anything!" she said calmly, a sweet smile on her face. "You still don't get it, do you, Sally? I don't want to hurt you, I want us to have fun together! But remember, it would take me a matter of minutes to add your name and address to this website and email a link to everyone at school, everyone in the village, all your friends, even Devon Life! Now, to show me you understand, get down on your knees and beg my forgiveness!" Stunned, I sank to my knees in front of her and mumbled at the floor.

"I can't hear you!" she chided.

"Please forgive me," I repeated more loudly. She smiled down at me and ruffled my hair like I was a child.

"There, that wasn't so difficult, was it? You're young and all this is new to you, so I'll forgive you – this time," she said patronisingly. "Now you need to get changed, we have a busy day ahead of us." I stood up and she unlocked the handcuffs. I was going upstairs when she called after me.

"Wear that rubber skirt and top of yours, they looked very sexy. And those shoes you wore on Saturday will go very well, I think." I had never worn any of these clothes in public before, but I had no choice and, a few minutes later, I came downstairs, dressed in black latex. Dafne lifted the hem of the skirt and frowned.

"Did I tell you to put on underwear? I don't think I did, did I? Take it off!" I slipped my bra off and pulled down my knickers, trying to yank down the hem of the skirt to cover me a little better.

"There, you look lovely, darling. Let's go shopping!"

Dafne had brought her open-top sports car and I got in, but then she reached over me and clicked a handcuff bracelet around my right wrist. Grabbing my other wrist she pulled both arms above my head and locked them together through the metal arch of the head restraint behind me. I looked on aghast as she calmly got into the driver's seat and set off slowly through the village. I frantically tried to cover the cuffs with my hands and act casual as we drove past a number of pedestrians but I could do nothing to hide the glistening black latex, against which my nipples were protruding, standing out like bullets. I got a few curious looks before we were, finally, out into the open country.

After a while we joined the motorway and I guessed we were heading for Bristol, the nearest big city, where at least the chances of anyone recognising me were minimal. Every time we passed a truck, Dafne sounded her horn, which made the driver look down on my rubber-clad figure in surprise and delight, drawing a responding hoot of appreciation.

At last, we reached the city and Dafne parked in a multi-storey car park. She released me, putting the handcuffs in her handbag, then led me out into the shopping centre. I blushed bright red as I felt eyes on me from every direction, women barely disguising their disgust while the men ogled me openly, and I heard a couple of wolf whistles, as well as laughs and whispered comments. We stopped outside a hair salon and Dafne turned to me.

"We're going in here and you will leave the talking to me. You're not to say a word in there, not one, understand?" I nodded my head.

"Answer me properly," she said sternly.

"Yes, I understand," I whispered reluctantly. We went inside and waited for the manager to come over.

"Hi" Dafne said, "I have an appointment? My friend here wishes to have a drastic change of image, I hope you can help." I looked at her in astonishment as the manager called over a stylist and they discussed what they would do to my hair.

"I think she needs something totally different, a new look," Dafne said airily. The stylist seemed to accept that I had no say in this, and showed a book of styles to Dafne, from which she selected one, making sure I did not see. Ten minutes later, she was sipping a cappuccino and my beautiful long blonde hair was all over the floor.

I'll admit that their hairdresser did a good job, highlighting and lowlighting what was left of my hair, which had been cropped into a pageboy cut, with my ears exposed and the hair off my neck, but I was devastated, I hadn't had my hair this short since I was eight! I felt even more conspicuous when we went back into the shopping centre, but Dafne showed no concern.

"Cheer up," she said, "You needed a change, that previous hairstyle, so old-fashioned, it didn't suit you at all. Also, added bonus - it will be so much easier to wear your hood with all that hair gone! See how I'm thinking of your comfort!" I tottered along on my heels behind her, thinking dark thoughts, as she strode purposefully on.

I realised I was totally reliant on her at this point, as she had not allowed me to bring any credit cards or money, and I didn't even have my mobile phone. This made me very uncomfortable, reinforcing the power relationship which Dafne was keen to impose on me, with her very much in charge and me having to do as I was told. I felt like a child under adult supervision.

Dafne took me to a very expensive restaurant for lunch, but even that turned out to be a 'power-play' on her part. When the waiter showed us to a table, she took a menu from him but shooed him away before he could give one to me as well. As she read it intently, I sat in silence, wondering what was going on.

"I'll have the Dover sole and a glass of your Chablis, please," she said as the waiter came over, then indicated towards me, "my companion will have a tall glass of iced water and the mackerel salad, but just a child's portion - we need to think of your figure, pet!" She passed the menu back to the young man, giving him a beaming smile.

"What are you doing?!" I hissed, leaning forward, "you're embarrassing me, treating me like a child!"

"No," she said calmly and evenly, "I'm treating you like my submissive. I decide what is best for you, and make arrangements accordingly. Do you have a problem with that?" I looked at her sitting there, perfectly relaxed and confident, waiting for my response, and felt utterly powerless.

"No," I said eventually and reluctantly.

"Very good, pet," she smiled.

"I'm not your pet!" I seethed, "and I'm not going to be your fucking slave! I thought we were friends."

"Oh, we are!" Dafne said in a hurt tone, "I don't want you to be my slave, it's such a pejorative term. I really think you will enjoy our relationship once you relax. Think of it this way: you really like tying yourself up and giving yourself exciting challenges to endure whilst in bondage. But, from your experience in the bath yesterday, I think you already know how much more exciting the bondage and the challenge can be when imposed on you rather than doing it yourself. It brings in that element of doubt or, as I like to call it, erotic jeopardy! " I blushed deeply at this point, knowing that what she said was true.

Despite the extreme discomfort and real fear I had felt when she had left me bound and gagged in the cold water, I had to admit that it had been intensely thrilling, at least once I was safely back on dry land. Now I could look back on it and remember the tightness, the inescapability, the danger, the helplessness, and enjoy it. I knew it was wrong, sick and perverted, but then I'd learned that about myself a long time ago!

"In a Dom-sub relationship," she went on, "the idea is that we should both have fun. As the Dom, it is my responsibility to give you pleasure, the more intense the better. How am I doing so far?"

"Um, not bad," I said slowly, a little reluctantly, not really wanting to admit to myself, let alone her, that I had enjoyed at least some of the treatment she had handed out, "but it has been quite scary."

"I find that the 'thrill of fear' can be quite erotic, don't you," Dafne replied, "fear of being caught? Of your release going wrong? I bet you got a thrill when you thought about being stuck in that hole for days, and then the humiliation you would suffer when discovered - I bet that had you going as well! What I can do is add the thrill of uncertainty as well - is she coming back? Is she leaving me here for someone else to find me? Don't you find that exciting?"

"I… I suppose so," I admitted.

"So, I help you play out your fantasies, you help me with mine," she said, leaning forward, "you perform certain… 'services' for me…" Services? I wondered what she meant.

"But not all the time!" she smiled, "as you say, we still want to be friends in the normal way. Let's forget about our 'special relationship' for a while!"

The meal and the rest of the afternoon proceeded almost normally, with the two of us hitting the shops like old friends. I still felt a little self-conscious to be dressed in latex in broad daylight in the middle of the city, and it was weird not to have money or a credit card, but it was okay. Until our last stop, that is.

Dafne led me away from the main shopping precinct until we reached a rather strange place with whited-out windows and with 'PRIVATE SHOP' above the door. I didn't know what it was until we went inside, and then it was very obvious that it was a sex shop. There were racks of magazines and DVDs, plus lots of toys and other paraphernalia, as well as some clothing racks.

"I just need to buy a few things," Dafne said, "you go and amuse yourself. Why don't you pick out a DVD for us to watch?" She steered me towards the section marked 'BDSM' and went over to the counter at the far end of the shop. I looked around nervously, but the place was deserted - it looked like even perverts don't frequent such places in the afternoon.

I picked up one of the DVD boxes, its title screaming at me 'PRISON TORTURE HELL', the photo on the front showing a woman in chains, her clothes ripped to expose plenty of flesh glistening with sweat, being whipped by a guard. I turned it over and read the brief, salacious synopsis:

A group of hot, young co-ed students on holiday in Central America find themselves imprisoned on trumped up charges, in the clutches of sadistic guards, under the control of an evil governor!

I quickly put the DVD back on the shelf and selected another. This one was called 'ALIEN EXPERIMENTS', and was illustrated by the image of an asian woman, naked except for a small white cap with a red cross on it, being held by slimy green tentacles wrapped around her arms and legs, while other tentacles explored all her orifices, extremely intimately. The blurb on the back read:

A bevy of beautiful Japanese nurses abducted by alien monsters and subjected to hideous and painful tortures, experiments and rape!

Again, I pulled a face and returned the box. As I looked along the row, everything seemed to be about the rape and torture of women, which was not something I wanted to watch, let alone experience!

"How about this?" I heard Dafne say, and turned to see her standing beside me with another DVD. This one was titled 'SCHOOL FOR SCANDAL', and displayed a young woman in glasses, rope, and not much else, with an older woman standing behind her in mortar board and gown, holding a cane.

"'A young, naive teacher learns that, at the School for Scandal, corporal punishment is for staff as well as students!' Sounds good, fancy it?" Dafne asked with a wicked grin.

"No!" I protested, blushing deeply. She put her head on one side, looking at me curiously before responding.

"No, I guess you're right," she said, "why waste time watching others, when we could be acting it out ourselves?! Let's get back home." I followed as she left the shop, noticing nervously that the bag she was carrying seemed to have quite a lot of things in it. I wondered if, at some point, that was going to be bad news for me…

I was very relieved when we went back to the car, finding that the car park was rapidly emptying as the afternoon came to an end.

"Okay, I think now would be a good time for one of your little 'adventures'," Dafne smiled as we stood behind the car with the boot open, "Take off those clothes."

"What?!" I exclaimed, looking around to see if anyone was watching. There were people - men, women, couples, families - emerging from the lift and making their way to their cars, though not too close to us. "Please don't make me do this!"

"Don't you question my orders, pet," she chided. I reluctantly took off the top and skirt, feeling even more vulnerable as I stood naked, holding out my only clothes. She took them from me and threw them into the boot, then reached into the shopping bag and passed me a silvery chain.

"What's this?" I asked in confusion.

"It's a pair of nipple clamps, silly!" Dafne replied, squeezing one of the clamps to show me it's jaws opening and closing. With a strange mixture of fear at the pain these would inflict and excitement at this new  bondage experience, I tentatively applied them to my sensitive buds which, I noticed, had become distinctly perky in the cool air of the concrete multi-storey. I was pleasantly surprised to find that, while slightly uncomfortable, they didn't pinch too hard.

"Hmm, those look a little loose," Dafne said, "here, let me adjust them." She reached out and began twiddling a small wheel at the base of one of the clamps. Instantly, I felt it squeeze much tighter, until I let out a small squeal. She adjusted the other one similarly, and now I was very aware of the pain they could inflict.

Dafne reached into her bag again, and this time produced something I did recognise - a panel gag. I took it and lifted it to my face, but it was only at that point that I noticed the fat rubber phallus on the inside. I had to open my mouth and take it in, before fastening the strap behind my head and putting the chinstrap in place. Not quite satisfied with my effort, Dafne reached over and tightened the buckles one more notch until it was uncomfortably snug.

Finally, she handed me the handcuffs and, once I had locked my wrists together behind my back, helped me into the boot, swinging my legs up into the confined space. She rolled me onto my stomach and then produced another set of cuffs, these with a length of chain between them. She locked them around my ankles, but making sure that she threaded the chain around the handcuffs, leaving me in a steel hogtie.

"One last thing," she smiled as she pulled a box out of her bag and ripped it open to reveal a frighteningly long, fat dildo. Turning me onto my side and spreading my knees, she slowly but inexorably forced the huge silicon penis into me, ignoring my muffled cries of protest and discomfort.

"There, I think you're all set," Dafne said as she looked down at me, "do enjoy the ride home, won't you? It could be the ride of your life!" She reached down and flicked the switch on the dildo and closed the boot, ignoring my desperate screams into the gag. A few moments later, the car engine roared into life and we moved off.

The thing inside me was not only vibrating, it felt like it was gyrating, even expanding and contracting, making the most amazingly intense sensations run through my body. What had started as cries for help very quickly became shouts, screams and moans of forced delight. I enjoyed, and to some extent endured, orgasm after orgasm, unable to resist the constant, impersonal demands of the mechanical monster whirring away in my sopping wet cunt.

As the stimulation went on and on, I struggled with my bondage, and with my situation. In the total darkness, the air in that small, claustrophobic space soon became hot and stale, and I was bathed in sweat as I squirmed and wriggled against the interminable prodding and poking of the vibrator. The nylon carpet scratched at my skin, and every move I made caused the cuffs on my wrists and ankles to cut into me painfully. I was so uncomfortable, yet I saw this as an incredible bondage experience, and I loved every minute of it.

Eventually the car stopped and, when Dafne opened the boot, I saw that we were outside my house. Dafne freed my legs and helped me struggle out of the car. It was dark and there was a distinct chill in the air as I stood there naked.

"I hope you enjoyed your day as much as I did," she said, "I'll see you tomorrow, pet." And with that, she drove off, leaving me still handcuffed and gagged with the dildo, its batteries now thankfully expired, inside me! I watched her go in disbelief, but realised I'd better get inside before someone saw me. I needed to eat something, but I couldn't with the gag in my mouth. My throat was dry but how could I get a drink? In the end I stuck my head under a running tap and let the water run down my face and seep under the panel, allowing me to suck it from the rubber penis filling my mouth.

I went to bed that night, still in my bondage, although I managed to pull the vibrator out of my pussy, which was a great relief. Although I found the experiences which Dafne was forcing upon me extremely exciting and sexually stimulating, I couldn't really reconcile myself to this strange relationship which she had created. Was I really submissive? Would I put up with anything if it meant she would satisfy my bondage cravings so spectacularly well?

I finally fell asleep, these questions unresolved, wondering what the morning would bring…