Danger Dolores

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Amordaza
Chair Bound
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Joined: 10 Sep 2011, 14:30

Danger Dolores

Unread post by Amordaza »

I'm posting (for the first time) one of my stories. Feedback and comments would be appreciated.

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“So, what can you tell us about your next escape act, Dolores?”

“Well, Julia, as you know, this will be my final performance before I retire, and I wanted to do something really special. For this escape, I will be suspended over a vat of hydrochloric acid while the rope which holds me up is slowly eaten away by acid dripping out of the vat’s tap.”

“That sounds dangerous.”

“It is no coincidence that I’m Danger Dolores.”

“Of course. And for this most dangerous act, how will you be restrained?”

“I will be restrained in a straitjacket with my ankles cuffed in leg irons.”

“Haven’t you done a straitjacket escape already?”

“Yes, but this straitjacket escape will be like no other. This jacket was specially designed to prevent my escape. First, the jacket itself is tailored to my size. It fits skin-tight about my torso, permitting minimal movement. Second, the jacket provides additional security features that prevent escape using traditional methods. There are straps located on the front and sides of the jacket through which my arms will be fed before they are strapped in back. This will secure my forearms to the jacket; it will be impossible for me to lift my arms over my head as escape artists typically do. Additionally, there is not one but two crotch straps that will prevent the jacket’s victim from pulling it over her head.”

“Is there anything special about the straps?”

“Yes. Each strap’s buckle will be fitted with a padlock that will secure each strap in place. It will be impossible to unbuckle the straps without first removing the padlock. The jacket has six straps on the back, the strap securing the arms around the torso, and the two crotch straps, so I will need to free myself from nine individual padlocks.”

“I assume audience members will be able to inspect the jacket as usual?”

“Yes. Audience members will be able to inspect the jacket and locks for any gimmicks. The Astounding Anna, one of my competitors in the art of escape, will be attending. She, like me, knows all of the tricks, so she'll make sure I'm not pulling any fast ones over the audience.”

“Wow. That sounds quite restrictive. Anything else?”

“Yes, there are two other restraints that I’m so happy to be using. First, I will have a collar locked around my neck that will be chained to the sides of the vat. This will ensure that I cannot swing myself over the side of the vat to prevent myself from falling in. Second, I will be muzzled with a leather mask with a built-in ball gag. This mask will cover my neck, chin, and nose and be locked in place.”

“Good heavens! What purpose does the mask provide?”

“It does several things, Julia. First, it will prevent me from using my mouth to aid my escape. My mouth will be completely covered, so I will be unable to use it to loosen any straps. Hiding keys or lock picks in my mouth will also be useless. Second, the mask will prevent me from communicating with my assistants. Once I’m restrained, they will suspend me over the vat and wait until I escape or fall. The ball gag within the muzzle will fill my mouth; calling for help will be impossible. Third, the mask will reduce the air flow through my mouth and nostrils, causing me to tire more quickly and making my escape more difficult.”

“It sounds like you’ll be living up to your name, Danger Dolores. This will obviously be your most difficult escape!”

My most difficult escape? No, tomorrow’s escape will be the most dangerous escape I’ve performed, but it won’t be the most difficult. I’ll never forget the most difficult escape. It was the one that started my career.

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“I think that does it.”

“Are you sure, Juan?”

Juan smirked. “Does my Amorcita want more?”

Good question. My hands were tied behind me to the slat of my chair, my legs were pulled back and tied to the rear legs of my chair, and about 50 feet of rope bound my waist, torso, and neck to the chair. If that weren’t enough, Juan had looped a rope around my left thigh, run it under the chair and around my right thigh, pulling my legs open so he could see my underwear. Did I mention that all he allowed me to wear was my underwear and bra?

“Well,” I said coyly, “I admit that you’ve got me tied up good and tight. But escape artists are also supposed to have a little danger in their acts. What’s gonna happen to me if I can’t get out? Extreme boredom?”

Juan leaned over and kissed my forehead.

“Amorcita wants a little danger?”

“Mm hm,” I nodded.

“Well,” he said, groping my breast, “if you are still in this chair when I wake up from my siesta, I will tease you until dinner time.”

I moaned in pleasure as Juan rubbed my breast.

“One more thing,” said Juan, pulling something out of his pocket. “I don’t want you waking me up.” He moved behind me.
“Open your mouth,” he gently commanded.

I obeyed, and Juan pulled a thick bandana between my parted lips. It was dirty and sweaty from when he used it for work, and it nearly made me cough. Juan finished securing the bandana behind my head.

Giving me a gentle kiss and groping my breast, he said, “One hour, Amorcita, and then I will slowly tease every gram of pleasure out of your body.”

He abruptly let go of my breast, turned, and headed upstairs to take his nap.

I began testing my bonds. Juan had been helping me practice for six months, and he had learned nearly every weakness in my technique. He had cinched the coils securing my wrists and ankles to the chair. He had used extra rope around my torso and arms, and he had forced me to stretch to prevent movement and reduce slack.

After struggling for about twenty minutes, the phone started to ring. Juan must have been deep asleep because he didn’t answer it. I hated listening to it ring, but still trapped in the chair, I had no other choice but to let it go to the answering machine.

“Hello, Dolores? This is Gloria from the talent search agency. We’ve sent you several letters about the talent show in San Luis Potosi, but we have not heard back. If you’re in town, please come to the registration desk by seven tonight to reserve your performance slot. Have a good day. Good-bye.”

The talent show? I had auditioned for it weeks ago, but I had never received any mails. Did the post office lose them again? No, those letters are sent via certified mail. If it had arrived, someone must have signed for it.

My blood ran cold when the truth dawned on me. Juan must have signed for the letters and then thrown them away.
I didn’t want to believe it, but it made sense. Juan had never felt comfortable with the risks I took when I performed. He always tried to hide it, but I could see the way he had to keep himself from coming to rescue me when I performed perilous escapes. Even worse, my work made him extremely jealous. Whenever I performed in town, I wore skimpy outfits that revealed my voluptuous breasts and curvy legs, and I always encouraged the audience to restrain me in compromising positions. He didn’t like it when audience members spread my legs to tie them to a chair or ran my straitjacket strap through my crotch. Juan had discouraged me from performing more widely. If that weren’t enough, performing at better venues would eventually require us to move to the city, and while I had always wanted to escape our small little town, Juan had insisted that we stay living here.

I looked at the time. It was 2:30 pm; the last bus to San Luis Potosi left at 3:30 and arrived about an hour later. I could make it, but because Juan had suggested that I do some practice today, I was tightly bound and gagged to my kitchen chair.

The next half hour was the greatest struggle of wills that Juan and I had ever had, and he slept through the entire thing. I writhed and twisted and turned like I had never before. My wrists were red with rope burn when I finally freed them. Even with my hands freed, it took me another five solid minutes to undo all the rope around my torso and neck, and then another five minutes to free my legs. I literally left the wet bandana wrapped around my neck as I quickly gathered a few pieces of gear for my act from the downstairs closest.

The hardest part, though, was when I stopped to check the time. I spotted a picture of Juan and I on the refrigerator door. I saw his smile, his laugh, his happiness. I felt his warm caresses on my shoulders and his soft kisses on my lips. I even felt the rough grasp of his hands around my wrist when he would bind me for rough sex and my pussy’s wet response to his manliness.

I could have Juan. Be his wife. Live quiet days in our small obscure town and wild nights bound and gagged for our mutual pleasure. I could be his pet. His play thing. His sex slave. His lover. His everything.

Or I could go to San Luis Potosi. Do large acts. Become a sensation. Show off to the world the amazing things I could do. I would have my own money. My own life. I would belong to me.

I took one last look at the picture, kissed it, and silently left to the bus station.

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“Dolores?”

“Hmm” I said, awaking from my thoughts.

“I was asking how you feel about this escape.”

“Oh, yes, well, Julia, I’m so excited to be ending my career with this most daring escape. I think it’ll be one for the history books.”

The interview ended. Julia left. The house fell quiet. I retreated upstairs to my bedroom and retrieved an old red bandana from its hiding place in my dresser drawer. It was sweaty and dirty and had the smell of my saliva on it. I tied it into my mouth and laid on my bed.

Juan, I know you'll be at the show tomorrow night to rescue me. I've thought of everything this time: my legs manacled, my arms strapped and padlocked into place, my neck chained to hold me in position, my mouth sealed off and my words silenced. There's no way I'm getting out of this perfect predicament I've created.

You know I won’t escape unless you're there to free me. I said as much in my letter. I know you received it; I sent it certified mail. Please come rescue me. I’ve hurt so much since I left you. I've yearned for your presence every day since the day I left. I miss the touch of your hands and the sound of your voice. I thought I wanted success, but all I've felt is anguish.

Come rescue me, Juan. If you do, I’ll be yours again. Bind me, gag me, and take me where you want. Punish me however you like for my transgressions. I want it. I need it.

You know where to find me. I’ll be waiting for you helplessly above a vat of acid.

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boundBinder
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Re: Danger Dolores

Unread post by boundBinder »

I loved this. It was wonderful.

captbb
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Re: Danger Dolores

Unread post by captbb »

This needs a sequel

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Amordaza
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Joined: 10 Sep 2011, 14:30

Re: Danger Dolores

Unread post by Amordaza »

boundBinder wrote: 21 Jan 2022, 23:14 I loved this. It was wonderful.
@boundBinder, thank you for the kind words. I'm glad you enjoyed my story.

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Amordaza
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Posts: 57
Joined: 10 Sep 2011, 14:30

Re: Danger Dolores

Unread post by Amordaza »

captbb wrote: 22 Jan 2022, 17:05 This needs a sequel
@captbb, I'm glad that you liked my story.

Your suggestion to create a sequel surprised me. At some point while writing the story, I decided to leave its conclusion ambiguous: neither Dolores nor the reader know what Juan will decide to do. A sequel would make the ending of the story concrete, removing some of the "mystery" from this story. I'd kinda hate to lose that.

On the other hand, some ideas just started churning in my head. There's aspects of some of the characters that might be fun to explore. Maybe a sequel wouldn't be such a bad thing.

@captbb, while I'm thinking about whether to write a sequel, what sort of ideas did you want the sequel to have? Are there any questions about the plot or characters you'd like a sequel to address?

captbb
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Joined: 30 Jul 2011, 11:13
Location: Italy

Re: Danger Dolores

Unread post by captbb »

Amordaza wrote: 22 Jan 2022, 20:02 @captbb, while I'm thinking about whether to write a sequel, what sort of ideas did you want the sequel to have? Are there any questions about the plot or characters you'd like a sequel to address?
Sorry I'm late with my answer. Obviously, Juan will come. At the last minute, Dolores will be saved. But this can't end things. Maybe she'll live as his slave for a while, but then the call of the stage will be too strong. She'll need to be saved again and again?

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