Original thread https://tugstories.com/viewtopic.php?f= ... 9&p=168595
These are all written in the second person, so the reader can imagine themself as either gender, though the captive is depicted as a male.
Dark Fantasy 6
I’m out hiking on a hot summer’s day, enjoying the sunshine and the unmarked trail that’s totally deserted. In the heat, I’d taken off my shirt and stuck it in my backpack, leaving me just in my black athletic shorts and hiking boots and ballcap. The shorts are some of my favorite new ones, 5 inches long and well-fitting with a built in compression liner. I can walk all day in them with no chafing and definitely enjoy how well they breathe although the lack of pockets means all my stuff is in my pack. I have my AirPods in and am enjoying some Beethoven while I walk through the woods.
Before I know what’s happening I’m tackled from behind. I try to push whoever off me but feel my arms pinned and then pulled around my pack behind me. Cold metal locks around my wrists securing my arms there…the cuffs seem to be looped through one of my backpack accessory loops too because I can’t move my hands around hardly at all. I feel a funny smelling rag over my nose and mouth and I think twice about screaming with the rag there. I try to hold my breath but you’re patient…eventually I have to breathe and everything slowly goes blurry. To top it off, I feel a pinch on my shoulder and think I see a needle out of the corner of my eye.
My muscles go limp and my awareness is blurry. I can see and blink, but even as you remove the rag I find myself only able to make quiet moans and I can’t make much of a sound. I can’t move my arm or legs either…I can only helplessly watch as you pick me up and hoist me over your shoulder.
The walk isn’t far, so you’d clearly planned on this spot when you saw me coming. I get dumped into the bed of a pickup and my ankles get chained as well with leg irons that you wrap around my legs as you put them on so my ankles are chained tightly together. “Just to be safe,” you say, “Though you’re not going to be able to move on your own for at least an hour anyhow.”
I try to scream but still only manage to make a weak grunt as my body still feels tingly all over. The drive isn’t long, only 5-10 minutes and you pick me back up. I see a small cabin and you bring me inside, then down some stairs into a musty cellar. There’s a metal support pole in the center and the wall is covered with eyebolts on all sides. I see a small pit about 6 feet away from the pole, exposed from the concrete floor being broken away. The pit is a couple feet deep and I’m able to see an eyebolt in the ceiling directly above.
You close the basement door and lock us in, slipping the keys into your pocket where I doubt I’ll be able to fight you for them, as I find myself starting to be able to twitch my fingers. You uncuff me and take off my backpack, then proceed to seat me against the pole. You reapply the handcuffs to my wrists after pulling my arms behind the pole and clicking them shut. You then stand me up and wrap a strap around my chest under my arms, which you tighten. The strap holds me to the pole so I don’t fall, even unable to use my legs. You apply lengths of chain to my knees and around the pole, and use chain to lock my ankles to the pole as well. I can’t lift my head, so I can only look down as I watch you also apply a chain around my waist and then my chest and lock those tightly as well…the strap holding me up is now redundant.
I’m finally able to start moving my head so I try to look around and manage to glimpse an open door leading to a small bathroom to one side. Before I look too long, you grab my head and turn it to face forward, where you apply a head harness containing a ballgag. After all the straps are tight, there’s no way I’m spitting out the big ball, but you’re not done yet. You wrap tape around my head, under my chin and over top as well (which makes me thankful that you’ve left my ballcap on), and almost cover everything except my eyes and nose with the tape, fully buying the harness in sticky tape. I won’t be making a peep even when my muscle control fully returns.
You then get out a heavy metal collar with a 20ish foot chain that I can see snaking across the room. You clamp it around my neck and apply a heavy padlock. “You won’t need this off, so let’s make sure that doesn’t happen,” you say, holding up a tube of superglue.
I feel you fiddle with the lock and smell the glue as you pour it into the keyhole to harden. You then pull the chain and stand on a small ladder where you use a carabiner to attach it to the eyebolt above, leaving a good portion to hang down and into the pit in the floor.
My curiosity about the pit is answered when you get a bucket out and start mixing up a batch of concrete. Once you’re satisfied with the mix, you dig into my backpack and pull out my phone and wallet and keys and drop them into the pit one by one. My body feeling is fully back now, but there’s nothing I can do but watch as you pour the concrete into the pit, burying my only way to call for help along with the chain attached to my now permanently locked-on collar.
“I’ll blindfold you before I go to bed,” you say, “But I want you to watch that harden for the rest of today before I do that.”
I struggle against the cuffs and chains but I’m no match for the locks and metal securing me standing up to the pole. You see my arms moving a bit and grab another padlock, using it to lock my cuffs to the chain securing my waist to the pole, limiting my arm movement to almost nothing. As a last touch, you wrap even more tape around my head and the pole, doing so both over my gag and at my forehead. Other than the ability to move my fingers a bit, I’m fully stuck and there’s nothing I can do but watch the concrete harden, knowing I’ll be trapped without the use of serious tool to get me out.
