Travelling in Bondage

Travelling in Bondage

by D

March 2011.

“Travelling in Bondage” was written by me possibly in 1998 and was one of first items of mine that was ‘published’ on the Net. It was originally written as a partial explanation of my private lifestyle at that time and designed to be read only by a specific friend of TB and myself. As he also ran a web site specialising in D/s writings, he asked for permission to publish it, which was why it first saw light of day on the Leviticus site.

For some reason, it was removed from that site later and, after many years of gathering dust, is now published here at the Confining Clothing Group as it has certain elements that relate to the group’s main interests.

As I said in the original Preface, it is a factual record of my life back many years ago and not a work of fiction. As such it brings back a lot of memories for me when I read it again a few days ago – the first time I had done so for over a decade. I hope you enjoy it.

“D”


The most important element about this article is that it is NOT a work of fiction, but is an accurate and truthful account of aspects of my life, past and present. I am a submissive who has been in a 24/7 D/s relationship with her Master for five years. I count myself as very blessed to have such a wonderful Master who understands me so completely, and whom I strive to please to the very best of my ability all the time. This article is written with his permission and encouragement.


TRAVELLING IN BONDAGE.

My name is ‘D’, I am in my twenties, and I am the chattel of my Master, The Bear. Ours may not be the most typical D/s relationship, as I have a career that he permits me to pursue but, when I am at home, I must forget that I am Dxxxxxx. She may be the person who puts the key in the door lock, but it is ‘D’ who steps into the house.

One aspect of our relationship which has been very important from the start has been my Master’s decision that within the house – and, as I will relate shortly, outside it too at times – I must be kept under some form of restraint all the time. This can vary from simple enough methods, such as wearing hobbles or short-chained handcuffs, through to full restraints that do not allow me to move a muscle. More usually it takes the form of my being made to wear often uncomfortable and confining clothing. As I type this article, I am dressed in such a way so that the simple act of using the keyboard is made difficult by thick gloves and by having my arms tethered to my sides just above my elbows. In addition I am wearing very heavy clothing, corsets and a floor length cape which only opens up to waist level. That I am gagged as I type is perfectly usual, as my Master does not wish to be disturbed by my chatter.

It was probably a few months after my Master and I decided to share our lives that we first ventured outside the house with me under restraint. Of course, that was not my decision but one of The Bear’s ideas. A week or so earlier he had brought me a calf-length cape which was normal enough to wear in public. However it did not take long for the arm-slits to be sewn up, rings for padlocks to be sewn on at collar, waist and hem levels, and for an innocuous cape to become a restraint item. Naturally, as soon as I had finished modifying the cape to my Master’s specification, he took me out for a walk wearing it. But he harnessed my hands and arms behind my back before he caped me, so that I was in bondage even before I stepped out into the street.

It soon became quite usual for us to go out with me harnessed and caped. We went to the cinema, to the theatre and for long walks with me made helpless under my cape. Occasionally we got strange looks………. Why was that girl still wearing her cape all buttoned from throat to hem in a perfectly well heated cinema or theatre? Once a young woman of my own age came up to me and commented that I must be very hot dressed like that. (The cape was made of wool and was fully lined, so she was right in thinking I was hot, wearing it in the cinema.). I just smiled and said I was okay. She looked very puzzled as she moved away.

Also a man came up to my Master and said, laughing, “I wish I could keep my wife like that!” The Bear just smiled back and moved me away before the man could take any further interest in us. I think he must have realised what was going on, but my Master’s silence showed him that it was not a good idea to pursue the matter further.

Soon after this, I started to make various garments for myself as my Master’s instructions, including the prototype of the indoor ‘uniform’ which I am now wearing. Luckily making clothes has always been a hobby of mine. I get ‘difficult’ items – corsets, stockings, gloves, boots etc. – from ordinary or specialised suppliers, but all other ‘normal’ clothing I make myself. So it was no surprising that my Master instructed me to make myself a proper full length cloak with a hood and the usual ‘extras’. Also he ordered me to make it of the heaviest material I could find and to line it throughout – “Just in case we have a BAD winter!”.

From then on, when I was not working, and if the weather did not make wearing a long cloak look too extraordinary, I had to wear my cloak when I left the house in my Master’s company. Because it was full length, not only could I have my arms harnessed or kept immobile in a single sleeve or straitjacket, but I could also be hobbled as well – just to make walking that bit more difficult. Also its extremely deep hood was very useful, and not just for keeping my head and face warm when it was cold outside. For, when the weather justified it, my Master would wind a scarf around my lower face, as though protecting me from the chill. In fact the scarf was there to hide the fact that I was gagged.

So it was that I started being taken out under duress and in bondage. At first he would only take me out at night but later we went out in daylight as well. Then one day, when we were about a mile from our house, he hailed a cab.

Before he got into it, he said, “Time for you to look after yourself. See you at home, and DON’T loiter!”

With a final wave, he got into the cab and drove off, leaving me standing on the pavement, cloaked and hooded, hobbled and harnessed, and completely helpless. Although I was not gagged that evening, I could not call a cab or get on a bus as I had no money. Even if I had, I would not have been able to use it, as my arms were locked into a tightly laced-up single-sleeve behind my back under the cloaks dense drapery. So I set off to walk home, half terrified, half weak with excitement. Even when I did eventually get home – my hobbles were long enough to climb steps but still made walking slow and difficult – I was soaked in sweat and shaking. Even then my Master had another little joke to play on me. For he was not there when I arrived and, cloaked and helpless, I could not ring the door bell (we have a pull-type device so using my nose would not have been possible.)

So I had to stand on the door step, hoping and praying the neighbours would not notice me, or that a ‘helpful’ policeman would not come up to me to find out why I was standing there. By the time my Master did let me in (he was aware of my arrival and had been watching me unseen all the way home – he had stopped the taxi as soon as he was out of my sight), I was a complete nervous wreck. But, as a submissive, I had to silently accept his little joke and just hope that he never played it on me again. Of course he has – several times – the last time making me get out of the car and leaving me with a two mile trudge home which, close hobbled, was most unpleasant.

From just going for walks or to the cinema with me cloaked and under bondage, my Master soon extended the rules concerning how I might be dressed outside the house when under discipline. If he was with me, I must ALWAYS be cloaked, hooded, harnessed and, preferably, gagged when I left home. Of course going shopping or visiting friends were times when this rule had to be waived. But travelling from A to B I was to be kept in bondage whenever it was possible.

Travelling in the car was easy. Our garage is attached to the house, so I could be ‘loaded’ into the passenger seat before he drove out onto the street. Once he fastened my seat belts about me (he has now replaced inertia belts by ‘positive fixing’ ones in the passenger seat, so he can tighten them as severely as he likes, and so they will remain fully fastened until he choses to unfasten the belts) and we are on our way, he will probably pull my hood right down in front of my face so I can’t see anything, as well as probably being gagged under the hood’s canopy.

He has also fixed a steel bar across the bottom of the passenger side foot-well. Once I have been belted to the seat, he will push my feet down to the bar and will then shackle my hobble to it. I always secretly hope he will forget to do this, as having my ankles shackled as well removed the last vestige of opportunity to move any part of my body to ease my position during the journey. (I do admit that, if driving conditions are bad, he will be less severe with me, as it would be HIGHLY embarrassing if we were involved in a crash with me so totally restrained!) Sitting motionless, even in a well-upholstered seat of a Jaguar, becomes very unpleasant after an hour or so, while being swathed in my uniform and my heavy cloak and hood is exhausting because of the heat under them. Being gagged and unable to see just adds to the misery of a long journey, but I am in no position to complain if that is how my Master wants me to travel.

And it is…………. My Master boasts that he has the perfect passenger in the car; one who is silent, uncritical of his driving, motionless and undemanding for the whole of even the longest journey. The only limit to the duration of any journey is set by how long I can go before needing to use the toilet. Except, of course, using the facilities at a service station would not be possible……….. So my Master is inclined to drive onto a back road after a several hours, and let me out in some unfrequented place where I can be allowed to answer the calls of Nature without anyone looking on. As the whole process adds maybe twenty minutes to any journey, more often than not he will just let me suffer until we reach our destination.

Once upon a time, I used to look forward to the weekends when we drove away from home to spend a couple of days with friends. Now the journey there and the journey back, always in bondage, makes me rather less keen to go away for the weekend. But, as an obedient submissive, I have no say in this matter. I go where my Master takes me. And, if he wishes me to Travel in Bondage, that is his privilege, and I must accept his decision with good grace and without complaint.

Travelling on foot and by car was just the start of my experiences of ‘Travelling in Bondage’. For my Master, the Bear, has a keen mind and a fertile imagination, so it was not long before I found myself faced with a new mode of travel which had to be undertaken in Bondage.

He had been invited to Spain for the week (we live in London) and, as I was not working at that time and was at his beck and call 24 hours a day, he decided that it might be fun for me to come along too. As I love travel and had not been to Bilbao before, I was excited that we were going abroad together. Admittedly it was only late February, so sunbathing and swimming were not on the agenda. But it would make a change from the strict control under which my Master kept me at home. Only when the date of our departure grew near did I learn that his control was not going to be relaxed just because we were going abroad.

A friend who knows ‘our little ways’ drove us from London to Portsmouth where we would board The City of Bilbao, a 20,000 ton ferry which would take us on the two day trip to Spain. A cabin had been booked for us and, under normal circumstances, I would have been really looking forward to the trip. But, as I was helped into our friend’s car, I was swathed in my heavy, full-length, winter cloak, its bulk closed up about me to conceal the fact that I was made helpless by a locked straitjacket, and by the short hobbles joining my ankles. Also, for the 90 minute drive to the docks, my hood was drawn up over my head, concealing the fact that I was well gagged under its gable.

I have to admit that I was in a total panic; I thought of the emigration men who would check our passports, of customs men and of the crew on the ship. I just could not see how we could get away with my being kept in Bondage for the sea journey. In fact I did not understand how my Master thought we would even get aboard the ship without being exposed as ‘deviants’.

In fact my Master was having a joke at my expense. For his friend pulled off the motorway before we reached Portsmouth and my strait jacket and hobbles were removed, my gag similarly be unlocked and taken from my mouth before all my articles of suppression were put away in one of the suitcases. I heaved a sigh of relief and hoped that it was the last I would see of them for a good while.

It was cold with snow flurries when we boarded the good ship City of Bilbao, having passed through emigration without anyone even giving us a second glance. As we stood on the promenade deck as the ship cast off and slowly moved down past the naval dockyards, I was delighted that I had my heavy cloak to protect me from the cold, its deep hood keeping my head and face snug and warm when other travellers were shivering and hurrying back into their warm cabin and or into the bars and restaurants of the ferry. Before we had swung round the Isle of Wight, The Bear also went inside, telling me that he expected me in the cabin in half an hour. So, almost alone, snuggled into my wonderfully warm cloak, on a freezing winter afternoon I watched the Isle of Wight slip past as the ship made its way out into the English Channel, the sea grey and calm, the air chill, occasional flurries of snow blowing across the water.

Feeling relaxed and happy, I made my way to our cabin exactly at the right time. I felt great but, as soon as I entered that tiny room, my heart sank. For spread out on my bunk were the items I had worn in the car, plus one or two more than I did not know my Master had brought with him. Half an hour later, he was locking me into the cabin’s main cupboard. I was not only straitjacketted, and hobbled but I was locked inside a stout containment sack which was exactly where I spent most of that trip down to Spain. Occasionally my Master would let me out of the cupboard to use the toilet, to be given food or water or allowed on deck for exercise when the stewardess was tidying our cabin. But my world for most of that journey – and for the return trip – comprised mostly of the inside of a cupboard. Not that I saw it often as he kept me blindfolded virtually all the time.

As he said when we eventually disembarked at Bilbao, I was lucky it was such a smooth crossing, or else I might not have had such an enjoyable time. ‘Enjoyable time’? I could think of many more pleasant ways of travelling to Spain than that chosen by my Master for me. But, as a obedient submissive, who am I to question how he makes me travel?

************

My job means that I have to go to various locations far from home. So flying is second nature to me now. But…………………

“I wonder if I could fly you abroad,” My Master had said one evening recently.

“I don’t understand, Master. I fly a lot.”

“In a nice comfortable seat?”

“Not always comfortable. But yes; in a seat anyway.” I replied, puzzled. “But why do you ask, Master?”

“Umm…… I was just wondering. You see, I think we could save some money next time we go abroad together.”

“How, Master?”

“Freight, my sweet little ‘d’. By sending you by freight…………….”

“Nooooooooooooooooooooooooooooo…………………………. ”

*******************

So that is it. One submissive’s story about how she travels in bondage. As yet the air-freight idea is still – thankfully – only an idea. But knowing how my Master loves solving problems, I do not put it past him to find a way to send me abroad as freight. NOT a pleasant prospect !

 

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