Claire always thought of herself as a giver.

Always willing to lend a hand, always willing to help out when it was needed. Always happy to volunteer for charity drives, or school donation events, and any other manner of initiative that helped people out.

Of course, she was also a firm believer that most people benefitted from close and tight confinement. Preferably delivered by her in the comfort of her own home and dungeon. Claire encountered people throughout her day who, through on stratagem or another, tended to end up writhing in pleasure with no hope of escape. Not until she allowed it anyway.

Her friends helped of course. Alice, bless her, let Claire have a fairly free run within her Club. Limits were in place of course, no keeping anyone beyond a few days, a week at the most. And they had to be returned relatively in shape to head back into the world. No brainwashed drooling pleasure slaves or anything silly like that. Claire didn’t mind, that wasn’t what she wanted out of her playmates anyway.

Her neighbours could attest to that easily enough. Claire wanted to play with people, give them pleasure, give them a place safe to release the inner slave, submissive, or bondage nut that she knew lurked within the men and women that she stole away for her games. It was hardly an odd sight if one were bold enough to peek out a window on Saturday mornings, to find Claire leading one, or two, or occasionally more new playmates back to her place on a leash. More would still be bound in their homes, moaning and squirming in tight ropes, or strict leather, as they waited for their captor to return for them.

Few houses had escaped visits from Claire, by day or night. Some residents spent a fair amount of their free time locked away in her bonds. Amusingly enough, for her at least, was how few of them complained or moved away. Especially given the vociferous complaints she often got in the kidnapping itself.

People were pleasingly odd.

But every now and then, Claire went on vacation. Every now and then she liked to get out into nature, detach herself from the world and hang out.

And every time she did that, regardless of where she went, some poor soul always seemed in need of help. It was really why she tried to be prepared for such events. She couldn't simply leave them in their misery, even if they didn't realize they were miserable!

Like now for instance. Claire was basking in the warm summer heat on her rented boat, rocked by the gentle waves of the calm sea. It was meant to be the start of a nice solo camping trip. Just her and the great outdoors. But of course, fate had intervened. As she had been passing the shoreline, a camper had flagged her down. His canoe had been destroyed in yesterday’s storm, and he’d been hoping for a lift back to shore. Claire had instantly taken a liking to him. He was filled with quiet confidence, yet remained oddly vulnerable. He was eager to explore new things, but shy. He was funny without being overbearing.

She had gotten him onboard, and offered some refreshments from her virtually untouched provisions. Just being helpful. It was hardly her fault that the boy was quite taken with her. Well, perhaps she had egged him on a bit with sly smiles, friendly giggles at his jokes, and some light caressing and touching.

Perhaps she should have just left it there instead of letting him kiss her. Or when she settled herself into his lap to return the favour. Perhaps she might have called a halt to it before she whispered to him that she had some toys they were going to play with. Or when he breathlessly agreed, clearly never having played at anything more than vanilla level games. It was hardly her fault though that the boy was eager to charge ahead when she withdrew some cuffs and a ballgag. He had shuddered so delicately and wonderfully when she had bound his wrists.

That, in the end, was what had sealed his fate. Claire loved to help most of all the closeted subbies. The ones who didn’t even know that they needed her control. Her bondage. Her training. The handcuffs had clicked shut, her boy had shivered in delight, and Claire was all over him.

Claire grinned and helped herself to a generous swig of her drink, enjoying the sweet burn of the alcoholic beverage, and luxuriated in the sweet serenade of moans and desperate struggling from the boy. She hadn’t misled him. They had had wonderful, mind shattering sex while the boy had been cuffed and gagged. Then, while he was recovering, Claire had…well probably gone a little overboard. She giggled and turned her head slowly to take in her prize.

Ordinairly she would have placed a new pet in rubber or leather, preventing them from having any tactile sensation apart from the touch of fetish and kink. Their very breath would drag in the unique smells of their new fetish wardrobe. It was helpful in making them understand their temporary new life. For her Canoe Boy though, she’d needed to get inventive. She hadn’t had any of that gear for her camping trip. So she had used tape.

At first just as an added bit of their sex game. She’d balled up his hands and tapped them first while he was still in his post-orgasm funk. As he was beginning to come out of it, she duct taped from his ankles to his knees. He tried to object, but she simply turned her attention back to his flagging manhood, and rapidly brought him back to full mast.

Another wild episode of carnal relations followed, and then Claire managed to tape him up to his waist. Leaving his cock free of course. She had plans for the organ. Once she had his arms welded to his sides with tape, Claire dropped all pretense of this being just about their sex. He was her prisoner now, and didn’t require anything more until he was properly secure. Which meant of course, not an inch of skin showed, apart from the penis that belonged to her now.

Claire looked down on the duct tape worm she had made of the boy, apart from his head which was covered in a leather hood she had absent-mindedly packed. One never knew when they might need a hood, and Claire never failed to have one in her bag. She idly thought back to what other things she had brought more on instinct or out of habit than any real plans to enslave. But now she was here, and her new boy toy was here, and it would hardly be sporting of her to abandon him after all this effort. Certainly she had no intention of simply releasing him this evening. One night stands were hardly Claire’s style.

Canoe Boy was such a pleasurable, adorable, squirming mess of a boy that…well. Claire might just have to keep him as a camping souvenir…