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Jane took a deep breath. Everything was ready for her six hour ordeal — if that was the right word, for she was already damp between the legs at the thought — and she checked yet again the operation of the electro-magnetically operated latches which would release the padded cuffs around her wrists. A shadow fell across the sunlit patch in which she stood. She turned to see 'Bravo,' the large Alsatian that was her temporary guest. He padded in and sat at her side before raising his handsome, foolish head to look up at her. Continuing with her last minutes checks, Jane was distracted by the dog nuzzling her bare upper thigh for a moment before standing to sniff curiously at the cleft between her buttocks. 'Go away, Bravo!' she said crossly, pushing the animal away with her bare foot. The dog walked over to the pile of sacks he slept on with Towser and lay down on his belly, his long tongue lolling from his jaws, to regard his temporary Mistress's activities with mild curiosity.
Satisfied at last with her arrangements, Jane glanced around the small stone outhouse which served as her dog's accommodation. Of Towser, her black Labrador, there was no sign; he was probably away on some mysterious business of his own. The dogs had been fed earlier, and the huge water bowl he was sharing while Bravo was their guest was almost full. Hot as the morning was — and it promised to get hotter still — at least they would not go thirsty in the six hours their Mistress would be out of action. The thought of thirst reminded her of her own. Picking up a large bottle of fruit-flavoured mineral water from a corner, she drained it in a series of gulps.
She stood for a few moments before raising a hand to sweep a fringe of sweaty hair from her forehead, then glanced down at her naked body, hot and grimy after the four hours she'd already spent in preparation in the stuffy outhouse. For a moment she debated returning to the house to shower the sweaty dirt from her skin. With a laugh she discarded the notion and pressed a switch on the wall; then swiftly inserted her leather ball-gag into her mouth. After buckling it in position securely, in a single flowing motion she flopped down on the thick straw covering the stone floor. She rolled about in it for several moments in sheer delight at its prickliness on her bare skin before sitting upright and spreading her legs apart to click shut the padded cuffs around her ankles, firmly clamping them to the steel hasps set in the stone floor. Mindful of the minute or so remaining before the timer would switch on the current to the wrist clamps, she lay on her back and extended her arms above and to the side to wriggle her hands into each cuff against the weak resistance of the spring which barely held it closed. Settling her wrists comfortably, she waited for the two faint clicks which would announce that the latches had engaged.
They were only seconds later in coming, and she lay quite still for a moment with her eyes closed, imaging herself as seen from above — lying spread out in the form of a Saint Andrew's Cross, her limbs clamped to the ground. Then, as usual, she struggled deliciously with her bonds for several minutes before subsiding, panting with exertion, into the straw she lay on.
She lay still for a moment, savouring the feeling of the sweat between her breasts and in the hollow of her flat stomach, and, above all, the delicious wetness at the top of her thighs. She sighed and closed her eyes.
A little later she heard the sound of Bravo rising from the bed he shared with her dog. Turning her head, she saw him stretch, then walk out of her limited field of view. Seconds later she heard the sound of noisy lapping, and when that ended, the soft padding of his paws on the straw as he left the shed.
She closed her eyes again. The usual feeling of anticlimax was afflicting her; she longed to be able to move her arms and wipe the sweat from her grimy face, and the straw under her shoulders and back was now packed uncomfortably hard from the pressure of her weight. Already she was bored, longing for the cuffs to open and free her. She thought of a long, cool shower and a cold drink, and uttered a tiny whimper of frustration.
Her usual remedy of turning her thoughts to future bondage sessions failed, this time, to engage her interest. She had been feeling for some time that something was deeply dissatisfying about Self Bondage; the fun was all in the preparation and the immediate confinement, matched only by the relief of release. If she had a Partner; a (what were they called? Ah, Dominants!) how much more fun it would be, she thought wistfully. No more long preparations; no more elaborate release mechanisms!
She really must try — somehow — to contact a willing accomplice, she thought sleepily before dozing off.
She had no idea how long she slept, but she woke to even greater heat and humidity than before. In the vain hope that she had been unconscious long enough for the latches to have opened, she struggled to extricate her wrists from the unyielding clamps, only to desist in despair. Her bladder was painfully full, and she cursed the thirst that had led her to drink so much water immediately before confining her self. On previous occasions she had urinated deliberately, enjoying the lack of inhibitions she felt, but those had been when she'd been more or less upright. Now, if she opened her bladder — when she opened her bladder, that abused organ protested! — she'd be condemned to lie in it, maybe for hours. But she had no other recourse; with a little sob of disgust, she flooded the straw beneath her thighs and buttocks with her warm urine The copious flow finally ceased, and she lay back in relief, feeling the liquid dry on her skin where it was exposed to the hot atmosphere. But under her haunches the wet straw was already clammy and uncomfortable.
A little later, she found a new cause of discomfort to afflict her. The first flies of summer had discovered the turds the dogs had deposited outside their shed, and soon they discovered the helpless Jane. Attracted by her sticky, sweaty body, they began to buzz about her face and settle around the corners of her eyes and mouth, and she could feel the tickling of their feet as they crawled about on her the skin of her breasts, belly and thighs. Jane began to cry, weakly straining at her bonds and turning her head from side to side in vain attempts to dislodge the flies from her face.
It was Towser who rescued her. She felt a cold, damp nose in her left armpit, then a warm wet, rough tongue licking her hot face. Opening her eyes, she looked up to see her dog staring down at her with concern, his new friend Bravo in the background. Towser gave a little yelp of joy at these signs of life from his Mistress, and celebrated by licking her face vigorously. The salt in her sweat was evidently much to his taste, for he went on to lick her neck and shoulders before turning his attention to her breasts. Jane felt her nipples grow hard and erect under the dog's tongue, and she quivered with excitement. Then she felt Bravo, not to be left out, begin to lick the calf of her right leg industriously. He, too, found her taste attractive, and his long, rough tongue moved up to her knee, before beginning on her lower thigh. Jane waited in delighted fear as the Alsatian's tongue moved higher and high, and she gave out a muffled squeal as it found her genitals. There the dog found the taste of her vagina irresistible, for he lowered his huge head and snuffled at it for several seconds before beginning to lick it with increasing enthusiasm. Jane found herself writhing with passion under his attentions; the intense sexual pleasure of his rough tongue on the lips of her vagina made her bite hard into her leather gag to stifle a scream of ecstasy. When she climaxed, straining against the clamps imprisoning her limbs, she did so suddenly and copiously. Shuddering with reaction, she lay back in her bonds while the two dogs competed to lick up her outflow. Sated, she closed her eyes while the dogs withdrew to drink.
Towser soon returned. Puzzled and worried by his Mistress's silence and her unaccountable refusal to move from her prone position, he lay down protectively by her left side, his hairy flank against hers. Minutes later Bravo joined them. He lay down on his right side, his long chest and belly pressed against her side, his heavy head on he right shoulder. Obscurely grateful for their presence, Jane closed her eyes and slept.
When she woke the dogs had gone. She had no idea how much time she had spent in sleep, patient and relaxed, she waited for her bonds to be released. Unable to raise her head, capable only of turning it from side to side, she couldn't tell how long it would be before the timer released her. But it didn't matter; release would come when it came, and nothing she could do could affect that.
She lay there in this pleasant torpor until her natural spirits recovered themselves, helped by her sudden and belated realisation that today was a popular public holiday. There would be hikers on the moor — not many, but some — and she amused herself with delicious thoughts of being discovered. Closing her eyes, she conjured up a mental picture of herself as she would appear to such a visitor — a naked and attractive young woman, pinioned prone and helpless, her body spread in invitation to all comers to do with as they wished. Or, she thought, as just such a woman, her naked flesh grimy and damp with sweat and her own urine, the rank odour of dogs clinging to her skin.
But her sexual appetite was sated for the moment, and when she heard the two faint clicks of the latches opening she lost no time in freeing herself. After spending some time brushing the damp straw from her body, she left the shed and walked out into the afternoon, tired and spent, for her long-promised shower and cold drink. But she thought she would really have to find a playmate for the future.
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