The lower floors of the parking garage are completely full, but I find an empty parking space on the third floor in front of a concrete wall and thankfully head into it. It is late Saturday morning so I surmise there are a lot of people shopping. I turn the engine off and try to relax; the journey has been quite interesting. Driving for the first time in my extravagantly high-heeled boots was an initial challenge, and then the two large plugs buried deep inside me increasingly made their presence felt.
I am about to start my third public bondage walk. In the first two, which seemed daring and adventurous at the time, my only bondage was a leather chastity belt holding two plugs inside me, the belt concealed by shorts. For my first walk I simply went grocery shopping, and for my second I strolled around an indoor mall without speaking to anyone or buying anything. All I had to do to end these walks was to get in my car and drive home.
This walk is different; it will be a lot more adventurous and perhaps a little dangerous. After my first two walks I searched the Internet looking for new public bondage ideas and discovered that my walks had not really been adventurous or daring at all: there was no restrictive bondage and little chance of discovery. I dared myself to push myself beyond my limits, to do a walk in real bondage and sexy clothes.
And that is what I plan to do this morning: to walk through the center of a busy town in restrictive bondage wearing high-heeled boots and a short skirt (the highest heels and the shortest skirt I have ever worn in public). The bondage hopefully will be invisible, or at least not noticeable, to passers by. The bondage will be real and, once I start the walk, inescapable. I will have to walk to where I have hidden my spare car key, retrieve it and return to the car before I can release myself. My home is too far away to walk; more than 20 miles. I chose this town because I cannot afford my adventure to be witnessed by any of my friends or coworkers, and I don't think any of them live here. Quite apart from my sexy clothes, the protrusion of my breasts caused by my breast bondage would be the topic of office gossip for months, and the last thing I want is for some friend to hug me or try to shake my hand (for reasons which will soon become clear).
'Am I ready?' I ask myself. 'Yes' I reply with determination. I have spent too much time and energy to reach this point to chicken out now. I have already chickened out once, a week ago, and if I chicken out again I will never forgive myself.
I place my car key in my pocket book and take out my two thumbcuffs and their key. I encircle each thumb with a cuff and carefully click it closed. The closure of the cuff is very critical, there is only one position that is a happy medium between being able to escape and being too tight, so I carefully count the clicks as I close the cuff. I double lock the cuffs and place the key on the passenger car seat. I am now breathing hard with excitement and feel the restrictions of my corset and other bondage. I lean forward to place my pocket book on the floor fighting my collar which is trying to choke me. Looking around to check that no one is watching, I remove the protective towel from my lap and drop it over the pocket book to conceal it. My skirt is so short that my garters and the shiny brass padlock under my crotch are now fully exposed. I carefully maneuver myself out of the car and stand up. Smoothing my miniskirt down I check that the two black threads are still intact. They are. These threads are attached to belt loops on my miniskirt, pass down through holes I have cut in the bottoms of its two front pockets and are tied to two steel rings, holding them up. These rings are at the ends of a short chain under my miniskirt. The middle of this chain is padlocked under my crotch to another chain that runs up my backside and is padlocked to the back of my leather chastity belt.
I place one hand on the open car door and wonder if I have forgotten anything. I can't think of anything so lock and close the door. I am now committed to my walk.
Feeling aroused, I put my hands in the two front pockets of my miniskirt. Leaning forward to reach down, I click the open cuffs through the rings at the bottom of my pockets. I feel an instant rush of arousal tinged with panic! I have done it! I have really done it! I cannot now use my hands and am now committed to walking through the center of the town in full bondage to where I hid my spare car keys. I even have to walk back the same way, for the key to my thumbcuffs is locked in my car.
Standing up straight I test my bondage. My black leather collar, which is snug around my neck, is locked to a back strap that runs down under the top laces of my corset and is then padlocked to the back of my chastity belt with the same padlock that secures the chain running under my crotch. My bondage is nicely balanced. To avoid pressure on my throat I have to stand with good upper body posture (my tightly-laced boned corset ensures good lower body posture); I cannot hunch or lean very far forward. My thumbs are held firmly down so that I can't even remove them from the pockets of my miniskirt. I pull gently up on my thumbs and feel the chains press on my leather chastity belt and the plugs inside me.
This is not my only bondage. The base of each of my breasts is bound with several turns of braided nylon rope. This breast bondage, as well as the short skirt and high heels, was suggested by some public bondage dares I read on the Internet. My breasts are not tightly bound; pain is not the objective of this adventure, but I can certainly feel them. Preferring chain bondage to rope bondage, I wrapped two thin chains over the ropes and secured them with two small padlocks, one under each breast. To conceal this bondage from public view I wrapped bandages over the chains and am wearing two tops. The first is stretchy and a little too small for me (particularly now that my breasts stick out more), but it helps keeps my breasts in place. The outer top is loose fitting with a high collar to help conceal the lock at the back of my leather choker.
My boots are also a form of bondage. I wanted to bind my legs, which for me normally means chaining my ankles together with a short chain. In public this would be only possible in a floor-length skirt, but then the bondage would be revealed by the tiny steps I would be forced to take. Instead I decided to wear very high heels that could not be removed. These, in combination with a short skirt that would be too revealing if I sat down, seemed a reasonable substitute. Since my hands would not be free to protect me if I fell, I decided to wear boots that give ankle support. Since I didn't have boots with very high heels I went online and searched.
I found some killer ankle boots on ebay. They had 5 ½-inch stiletto heels (according to the seller, I have never measured them). But what really attracted me, and turned me on, was the ankle strap that was secured with two silver padlocks that prevented their removal. I bid on them and bought them. When they arrived I was surprised to find how comfortable they were.
But when dressing for the public walk last weekend I decided that the very visible padlocks were a bit too much, and might lead people to discover my other bondage. I told myself that my dare required me to wear high-heeled boots for the walk so didn't do it. That night (while in painful self-bondage as a punishment for my cowardice in failing to do my public walk) I thought of another way to fasten the boots on so they could not be removed. After zipping them up I could thread black cable ties through the zipper pulls and secure them around my ankles over the boots. After trimming the ends I could cover them with the ankle straps and could secure these with small black shoelaces. The bondage would be just as effective, but no longer visible. And that's just what I did this morning.
To bind my arms in public I invented my present thumbcuff bondage (it possibly has been invented earlier by someone else, but I haven't read about it). I wanted to get a leather skirt as suggested by a dare I read online, but couldn't find one that was suitable (two front pockets, belt loops, and short length). I found a substitute; one made in black twill that met my requirements. It is also stretchy (3% spandex) so hugs my curves closely (perhaps too closely; if one looks carefully one can detect the small bump made by the padlock at the back of my chastity belt).
My attire is intended to have a Goth look: black leather collar with short silver spikes (these were meant to match my silver ankle padlocks, belt buckle, and my secret thumbcuffs), black top, black miniskirt with black leather belt, black stockings held up by my corset garters and black ankle boots.
As I finish checking the balance between the pull of my thumbcuffs and that of my backstrap (not that I can do anything about it if I've somehow made a mistake), I hear someone approaching. I freeze and keep my back to them; I am not prepared to meet anyone yet. As the footsteps die away I take several deep breaths, or as deep as my corset allows, and tell myself, 'This is it. The sooner you start the sooner you will finish. Every journey begins with a single step.'
I walk away from the car and almost immediately foresee my first problem. My miniskirt is so short (some would call it a micro mini) that it barely conceals the shiny padlock hanging under my crotch. (I couldn't pull the skirt down even if my hands could grasp its hem since it is held up by a sturdy leather belt.) I had planned to take the elevator down rather than walk down the stairs and risk someone looking up my miniskirt and seeing the padlock. But with my thumbs securely imprisoned I dare not take the elevator since I might not be able to reach the floor buttons. Imagine being trapped inside an elevator and being unable to reach the buttons! By bending my knees I can reach lower, but there is no way to raise my hands. Not knowing how high the elevator buttons are, I decide to take the stairs down.
