Chapter 5 wound up being an absolute beast to write. When I started it, I kind of thought it was going to be on the short side. I sure misjudged that. But like I’ve been saying all along, I’m just opening myself up and whatever hits the pages is what I’m trying to go with. All that being said, this is Part 3, the FINAL part, of Chapter 5. As you recall, the first two parts were the dramatic account of a super fun predicament self-bondage session that I enjoyed (survived…lol) a few months ago. Now, I’m sharing the self-bondage daydream/fantasy that I had back in college that served as the inspiration for it. With that said, everything that follows this paragraph is NOT a 99% real account of Tina’s journey of bondage and submission, but rather, it is a 100% fantasy that only occurred in my little mind (and maybe Marks, too).
Here we go……(PS. Fair warning, this rides a little rough…)
I’d been in Mark’s dungeon for weeks. It’s hard to say how long exactly because I had no access to even a window, much less and information from outside of the long-forgotten sub, sub-basement athletic facility Mark had transformed into a bunker/dungeon/torture chamber. This building was one of the oldest buildings on campus, and this level was apparently the original lockers, showers, offices, and exercise facilities of the original football team, which was founded over a century ago. The entire level had been sealed up when new additions and renovations were made over the years.
Mark discovered an access ramp to this labyrinth of subterranean rooms and immediately saw its potential for the twisted experiments he intended to conduct. Mark was able to patch old electric wiring and water lines into the current building’s utilities stack. I hadn’t had the “opportunity” to visit every room or even every corridor of Mark’s kingdom, but the dozen or so rooms that I have seen have been one nightmare after another.
Mark kept me in a what I believe was a janitor’s closet. There was a kind of trough in one corner. There were two water spigots but only the cold-water spigot works. The drain served as my toilet. A pile of rags, burlap sacks and filthy old practice jerseys was in one corner of the room. I fashioned them into a mat as best as I could. The floor was concrete. The walls were concrete and pained white. But the paint was flaking away and grimy and grey. The only furniture in the room as a simple straight back wooden chair. It sat in the far corner away from my “bed,” so that I could not reach it unless Mark released my chain from the pipes it was locked around.
Yes, I’ve been in chains since the first night that Mark shocked me into helplessness and captivity. He taunted me cruelly when he inserted the metal pins locking the steel ring around my neck. “You should have fought so much harder, Tina. Not that you could have escaped from the training table. I used enough stretch bands and bandages to hold down a linebacker. But you BARELY fought back at all. And that was the last tiny chance you had. This collar will never come off your neck, Tina. Do you understand? NEVER!”
Mark went about torturing me with methodical precision. I was never passionate about it. But he also put me through cruel psychological tortures. He truly wanted to study all manner of human limits. Not only a person’s ability to absorb pain but also mental anguish. Unlike his cold demeanor when doling out physical torments, he lit up with spite when he attacked me mentally and emotionally.
But as I was saying, it had been weeks. I was laying on my pile of rags. Mark had not come to me in a day, or maybe more. The emptiness of my stomach was not even registering compared to the relief of not being subjected to Mark’s attempts to break me. And, by the way, I was resolved to NOT be broken by this pathetic weirdo. Rather, I was vigilant and patient. Mark was careful. I give him full credit for that. So far, I had no opportunities to fight back. I was kept naked, chained (or restrained more extensively) and in a weakened condition. But everyone makes mistakes. Everyone relaxes. Except for me. I don’t relax. My guard is always up. And I was going to outlast that son of a bitch.
As dim as the naked light bulb was that hung from the ceiling of my room, it was still blinding for a moment when it came on and chased away the near pitch darkness I was growing accustomed to. Mark stepped through the threshold and stopped in front of a line on the floor he had marked with a single strip of athletic tape. The line marked how far I could reach while chained to the pipe. Mark was careful….
“Put these on, Tina. No tricks.” Mark tossed a set of standard hand cuffs toward me. I picked them up and reached behind me back to apply them. “No Tina, wear them in front today.” That was interesting. I quickly did as Mark instructed, hopeful that this was the mistake I’d been waiting for. Click, click, click. The sound of ratcheting cuffs had become more familiar that I’d have ever thought it would be. Click, click, click. Hands now cuffed, I turned my eyes up to Mark. “Now what?” I cursed myself for how horse my voice was. Mark smirked. “You’ll see Tina.”
Mark had led me blindfolded through several rooms and down three hallways. I couldn’t see but keeping with my habit of counting steps and turns, I knew we were somewhere near the middle of the level, which is also near the elevator. Hands still cuffed in front, I was hyper alert for any opportunity. For now, Mark had me under control. Before leaving my room, Mark held out one end of a 6-foot long metal rod and had me lock it to one of the rings on my collar. Only after that did he toss me the key to unlock the chain from my collar. Mark wasn’t exactly an athlete but his size advantage was more than enough to discourage me from attempting a frontal attack, especially where he had me locked on the end of a stick.
“You can take off the blindfold, Tina.” I reached up with cuffed hands and took the sack off of my head to learn that I was correct. We were actually standing in the storage room where the service elevator was. Mark had taken me up to the elevator on other occasions because he wanted to use the extreme ice baths or other modern training equipment to “test” me. I expected that was what was in store, and I braced myself for whatever Mark had planned.
“Kneel down there.” I carefully lowered myself down one knee at a time. As I did so, I noticed the extended chain set of cuffs on the floor. Instead of a standard inch or two, this set had about 18 inches of chain between the cuffs. The chain was fed through a metal ring that appears to have very recently been anchored through the tiles and into the concrete beneath. PING. Mark tossed the handcuff key toward me. It bounced off the floor, off my bent legs and landed near my hands. “If you try anything, I’ll use this rod and drive your face into the floor, Tina. You’re going to take off the hand cuffs, and then cuff yourself to the ground with those ones. Do it now.”
I didn’t hesitate. Hesitation was pointless. I carefully examined the ring and the chain as I snapped one cuff around my wrist. No weak spots. I snapped the other cuff on next and waited. I was violently yanked by my collar hard to my right and onto my side. The concrete floor stunned me and I coughed and fought to get my breath back. Mark dropped the pole and snatched up the standard set of handcuffs from where I had just been and where I was trying to hide them under my legs when I was applying the new set. “Damn it you bitch. Don’t treat me like I’m stupid Tina. How am I going to forget about the other cuffs. What were you going to do, try to stab me with them??” He kicked me in the ribs and I crumbled and groaned. “Ye Yeah. Yeah Mark. I was. I was going to. I was going to stab you in the eye with the pointy end.
Mark dropped his full weight only my back, slamming me into the floor, and again knocking the breath out of me. Hands still chained and pinned under Mark’s body, I didn’t have a chance to fight back. Mark grabbed both my ankles and crossed them. He started looping a length of rope around them tightening with each turn. He tied if off and then began wrapping it between my ankles to sinch the loops tightly. He dropped my feet which thudded on the ground and turned and detatched the rod from my collar. Suddenly, Mark was forcing a ball gag between my teeth. I was bound to tightly to fight back. I let him attach and tighten the buckles of the harness gag. I could smell Marks sweat. He was panting. “Mark is a weakling.” I kept telling myself that. “I’m going to outlast him.”
Mark wrapped his arm tightly around my throat like a choke hold and I thought for a moment he was going to strangle me. “Get up,” Mark ordered as he lifted my upper body off the floor. He was kneeling on the small of my back so I had to arch. “Hold yourself up with your arms.” I did just that. My cuffed hands on either side of the ring anchoring the chain to the floor. My arms were locked as if doing a pushup. I gasped as Mark looped a rope around my throat over the collar. I could tell the rope was the cinch rope for my ankles because as he pulled it tightly around my throat I could feel my feet being pulled up high behind me. Mark used his arms to squeeze me into a tight arch from my ankles and my neck. He kept pulling those to ends closer and closer forcing me to push my upper body up as far as possible with my arms. Still holding my arched position with one arm, Mark tied a slip knot at the base of my neck and then he completely released me causing me to take on the full strain of the arch. My eyes bulged as I felt the noose like rope tighten and inch. It was still loose around my throat, but there didn’t seem to be much slack left.
Mark stood up and walked in front of me. He wheeled an office chair over in front of me. “Tina, I have good news for you.” Mark spun the chair around revealing the plastic bag he used the night he took me. The bag still held my clothes, my purse and my backpack. Seeing my possession reminded me of my “normal” life and all of the things and people that had been stolen from me and it overwhelmed me, and I burst into tears. “NO. God damn you, Tina. You’re stronger. Fucking stop you bitch,” I screamed at myself inside my head.
Mark didn’t hide his amusement at my anguish. “I see you remember these items of yours. Well, good news. You can have them. I’m going to go home for the night. No one is going to be watching you. And this is the key to the handcuffs.” Mark squatted down and held a shiny silver key in front of my face. I blinked away stinging tears and tried to look around Mark at the chair and its precious cargo. I momentarily forgot about the noose and relaxed just a bit and allowed the slip knot to tighten a bit more. “Careful, careful Tina. You can’t leave if you choke yourself to death.” I bit down on my gag and focused and pushed myself back up, releasing a little pressure on my neck. “I’m going to take the elevator up and go home now. I’m leaving the key right here for you.” Mark taped the key to the ball of my gag. My eyes went cross eyed as I strained to see it. Satisfied that the key was secure, Mark turned and headed to the elevator. “It’s all over if you can just get to the key Tina. You can put on your own clothes. You can walk out the front door. Campus Police is right across the street. Let yourself out. If you can.” And he was gone behind the silent elevator doors.
“Oh my god. Oh my god.” I was the full length of my arms away from the key. I picked one hand up, carefully, and brought it up toward my gag. I tilted my eyes downward to see how close it was, but I could only make it halfway. My other arm was giving out and I had to put both hands down again. I steadied myself. I wanted badly to try again, but I knew I couldn’t reach the key that way. “This is going to hurt,” I thought. And I lowered my upper body gently. An inch. The noose tightened. Another inch. Bending my arms to lower myself was causing my triceps to fatigue more quickly. Another inch. The tether to my ankles was running out of slack. I strained to lift my feet higher and closer to my head, but all of my flexibility was already being used. Another inch. My arms were burning. I noticed the roughness of the of the ropes as they tightened more. I couldn’t see it but my face was getting flushed. Another inch. I felt a pulse in my temple pumping hard. The noose was too tight. Blood flow was being restricted. My vision was slightly blurred. I was burning oxygen hard holding myself up with my bent arms. Another inch. I gasped. My eyes were watering. I’d have to make a move soon. Another inch. If I could lower myself a bit more, I could pull my left hand all the way up against the anchor ring and use the full 18 inches of slack to reach with my right hand. I wouldn’t be able to support my weight hardly at all like that. I’d lose consciousness from lack of air or lack of blood flow in seconds. That’s all the time I’d have to unlock the cuffs and then try to get the noose off. Another inch. I was seeing stars. I shook my head to clear the cobwebs, but they weren’t clearing. I had to make my move. I had to get free. I had to get back to my life. I looked down. My hands looked closer now. So much closer. “You can reach Tina. You can reach now. Do it! Do it you bitch! Do it now!” I reared up slightly preparing to plunge myself down on the noose and strain up with my strong arm to grab for the key. This was it. “3….2….1……”
I didn’t do it. I held that semi-arch with bent arms. Bubble of snot were forming in my nose. Lines of drool were pouring from the corners of my mouth around the gag. I wasn’t going to make it. I knew. I knew I’d die if I tried. I’d still be 5 or 6 inches away. And Mark was surely watching me somewhere. Mark would watch me choking, flailing, impotently straining to reach the impossible to reach key. And I’d collapse on my side unable to push up and relieve the pressure from the noose. And I’d choke out and I’d lose. I’d lose to Mark. I straightened out my screaming arms. I’m stronger than he is. I pushed myself all the way up again. I flexed the muscles of my neck. The noose actually opened up, maybe a ½ inch. Not much be enough. The pounding pulse in my temple returned to a normal blood flow. I inhaled heavily but was rewarded with full lungs.“I’m going to get out. I’m going to beat that bastard Mark. But I have to wait. I have to be smart.”
I forgot about the chair with my possession. They didn’t matter. They weren’t going to save me. I looked down at my chained hands and focused on simply holding myself up. Resolved to still be there whenever Mark returned. “I’m going to win.” I repeated my mantra into the night…