It was a bright winter afternoon as I walked down the sidewalk along the river, approaching the large stretch of grassy riverside that had been claimed by the city’s homeless. I had become more familiar with the sprawling encampment over the last two weeks than I ever wondered I possibly could. A bet in a poker game had turned into a dare that ended with me entering the tent city for the first time two weeks prior. The dare had been to buy weed from a homeless person, and it had brought me to Gina, who had intercepted my mission and taken it in a wildly different direction. That afternoon found me lured into Gina’s tent, robbed of all the cash in my wallet, bound and gagged, and used for sexual pleasure in the most lurid methods, only to realize that I loved it as much as she did.

Leaving that day with a coy invitation to return, I had inexplicably come back the following week, and our bizarre tryst had continued with me once again bound and dominated, with Gina and her friend using my body for their sexual pleasure. As I left that day, Gina had given me a a tantalizing clue about what might happen if I were to return again, hinting at a longer stay in captivity and an “adventure.”

And so it was with mix of anticipation and trepidation that I returned on the day and time Gina had indicated. Though I had a better idea of where to discover her than before, when I spotted Gina it was clear that she had already been watching my arrival. She was sitting on the same picnic table where I had seen her the last time, facing away from the table, leaning back casually. She was dressed differently than the last times I had seen her, her usual athletic clothing replaced today with jeans and a white v-neck shirt. Her hair, tied back in a tight ponytail as usual, still gave her more casual attire a sporty look. As I approached the table, she stood, giving me that wry smile I had seen on her face many times before. “Hi little fucker,” she said by way of greeting.

When I got to within a few feet of Gina, I stopped, and with no further preamble, she said, “Sit on the end of the bench, and put your hands behind your back.”

I paused briefly, looking quickly in both directions to see who might be watching us. “No one cares,” she said quickly, then “Do it.”

I sat on the bench as she had instructed, putting my hands behind my back as casually as I could, as if I were stretching. I had not expected to begin whatever Gina had planned for me outside in plain view of anyone who happened to walk by, and my nervousness ratcheted up, co-mingling with embarrassment. She slapped a hand on my shoulder, twisting me around so that I was still on the end of the bench, but my back was toward the rest of the bench. “That’s my boy,” she said, and I heard the jingling sound of metal on metal as she sat behind me on on the bench. I felt the cold steel of one handcuff go around my wrist, and click into place, followed by the other handcuff. Click, again. Just like that, I was once again Gina’s captive.

Gina leaned into me, whispering in my ear, “This will be your only chance to back out. Otherwise, you’re mine until tomorrow morning, nod if you understand.” I nodded. I had been prepared for that, and was willing to get out of the public view, as surely someone would notice a dude sitting at a picnic table handcuffed. Gina seemed fully aware of my unease, and said, “Stay here, I’ll be right back.” I could tell from the sound of her voice that my discomfort amused her.

Gina stood and walked a few steps to the entrance of her tent, disappearing inside. I sat and waited, praying no one would take notice of me. She reappeared moments later, carrying a large grey backpack. She strode back over to me, putting her hand on my shoulder again and saying “Up you go, walk with me.” I stood and started walking, and Gina put an arm around me, probably to control the direction I was walking, but also lowering the likelihood someone would notice my hands cuffed behind my back. We walked for several minutes, not speaking, exiting the encampment and continuing on the sidewalk along a road that was lined with parked cars.

About 100 yards down the road, Gina came to a stop and said, “Kneel.” Again I hesitated, checking to see if anyone else was nearby, knowing this would look very odd. A sharp smack on my ass brought me quickly to my knees, and I resigned myself to the impropriety of kneeling on the sidewalk, handcuffed, as I waited for what was to come.

Gina produced a car key and unlocked the back door of the small car parked in front of us. It was a brown, beat-up old hatch-back, dirty with rusted metal showing around the wheel wells. After getting the squeaky door open and rearranging some clothing that was strewn around, she said to me, “Lay down on the back seat, face down.” I climbed awkwardly on to the back seat, challenged by the inability to use my hands. Once I was semi kneeling on one end of the seat, I let myself flop down onto the rest of the seat. It was clear that the car door wasn’t gonna close with me laying across the seat unless I lifted my feet. Gina was behind me, and she knelt on the edge of the seat, pushing my legs in. She withdrew momentarily, then came back with a piece of rope with which she started quickly binding my my ankles together. Once that was done, she started messing with the seatbelt closest to my feet, wrapping it several time around my legs before threading it into the buckle. She then reached around me, pulling the center belt roughly around my belly, then running it back under me until she found the buckle and it locked in place, pulling it tight.

When she finished with the center seatbelt, Gina paused for a moment, then groped around my pants until she found my cock, which was hard in response to the physicality of her maneuvering of the seatbelts, and the strangeness of the situation. “Hmm,” she sighed, and her tone conveyed satisfaction that even the simple act of shoving me into the back seat of this car was enough to turn me on. “You twisted little man,” she murmured, “I wish I knew what was going on inside your mind.” I took silent offense to being called “little” for the second time, since I was at least six inches taller than Gina, but I knew better than to voice this sentiment. Her hand pushed into my pants again, this time unbuttoning them and partially unzipping the fly. “There,” she said, “I’ll leave you like that. Feet up!” And she withdrew from the back seat, closing the car door behind her.

Gina opened the driver’s door, plopping down in the seat, and tossing her backpack on the passenger seat. Putting the key in the ignition, she started the car and revved the engine a few times before disengaging the parking brake and starting to maneuver the car out of its parking spot. I watched all of this in fascination, as the reality of the situation set in. I was handcuffed with my ankles tied together in the back seat of a car, its seatbelts wrapped around me in a way that seemed intended to keep me from moving rather than any semblance of safety. I had no idea where we were going; no idea if this car was even Gina’s.

As the car accelerated down the street, I glanced around, trying to take in everything around me. The car was filthy, with clothing, empty food containers, and other random objects strewn about. I couldn’t see much outside the car as the front seat blocked my view out the windshield, and all I could see out the grimy side windows were tops of buildings and trees going by. The hard metal handcuffs were starting to dig painfully into my wrists. When Gina had tied me up in our prior encounters, she had at all times seemed intuitively to know how tight to work the ropes, so that they were secure and inescapable, but not painful. These handcuffs were a different story, already uncomfortable around my wrists. I glanced around again, trying to distract myself, and my eyes fixed on a red lacy bra, laying on the floor of the back seat, amongst other articles of clothing. For reasons I can not fully explain, the sight of that red bra was tantalizing; so sexy and feminine, laying there just out of reach. Did that mean its owner was sitting in the front seat wearing a shirt with no bra? What would it feel like if Gina were standing over me wearing nothing but this lacy bra, the power of her muscled body belied by this delicate undergarment? I felt ashamed wondering about this, but it took my mind off the discomfort of the steel against my wrists as I felt friction between the renewed hardness of my cock and my unzipped pants each time the car bumped or jostled.

Tearing my thoughts back to reality, Gina spoke up, asking “Do you like my car, Kenny?” Not waiting for an answer as usual, she continued. “This little beast has taken me a lot of miles, a lot of places. Some places I have to sleep in it, but sleeping in a car sucks, if you ask me. Never had a guy tied up in my back seat though, that’s a first.” The last part she said with a laugh. She paused, then continued in a more serious tone. “You keep coming back for more, I love that. One of these days you’re not going to come back, and I’ll wish I had just kept you locked up.” She let those words hang in the air and continued driving in silence.

I guessed that we drove for about 20 minutes, easily enough to take us out of the city center and into a rural area. Either Gina was not an especially good driver, or she was going out of her way to take sharp turns, brake hard, and then accelerate roughly. At one point, she casually reached back with one hand, and started blindly patting around my body, eventually finding my cock and rubbing it. As fun as our escapades were, my rational brain was horrified the idea of being Gina’s captive permanently or even for an extended period. However, as I lay there in the back seat, unable to move, Gina absentmindedly stroking my cock as she drove us to some unknown destination, the non-rational part of me was warming up to the idea of extended captivity at her hands, absurd as the idea might be.

Eventually the car slowed and I heard the sound of the tires on a gravel surface, on which we drove another minute or two before finally coming to a halt. Gina turned off the car, opened the door, and stepped out, saying “Don’t go anywhere,” to me over her shoulder as she disappeared from sight. She returned a moment later, opening the back door by my feet, and climbed on top of me to begin the process of untangling me from the seatbelts. With that finished, she quickly untied the rope around my ankles. “Out!” She said sharply, and I began to wiggle my way backward, until my legs were on the ground and my chest was resting on the edge of the seat. My pants, which Gina had unbuttoned just before the car ride had begun, had fallen down around my knees as I had struggled to extract myself from the seat without the use of my hands. I leaned backward getting my head all the way out of the car, before finally standing precariously upright. Gina was right behind me, and I noted the smile on her face as I turned toward her, having watched me struggle to get out of the car, my pants now around my ankles, my hard cock pushing the fabric of of my boxer briefs out distinctly.

I glanced around, trying to understand where Gina had taken me. We were standing in a dusty gravel driveway that led up to a small, wooden house. It was the only structure in sight, the rest of the view taken up by trees and tall grass. I quickly revised my assessment of the structure as less of a “house” and more of a tiny cabin or bungalow. The front door of the cabin was wide open, in front of which was a small porch with two sturdy wooden beams that seemed to be supporting an overhanging portion of the second level.

Gina stepped close to me. “What do you think?” She breathed. “I thought it would be nice to get away to a place where no one will hear the sounds you’ll be making from the things I’m going to do to you.” She grinned at me, her slightly uneven teeth looking almost predatory. I swallowed hard, and her grin grew wider, as she stepped even closer, taking my cock in one hand through my underwear, and reaching around me to feel my handcuffs with her other. She rubbed my cock hard as her other hand went to her pocket, pulling the handcuff key out, all while keeping a steady up and down motion with her hand on my cock. It felt so good that my body shuddered, already nearing orgasm. She stopped, and spun me around, gonna work with the handcuff key.

Pulling the cuffs off my wrists, Gina turned and walked toward the wooden cabin. “Keep those hands behind your back, and follow me,” she instructed, and I followed after a moment, trying to keep up with her with my pants still around my ankles. As we reached the threshold to the cabin, she stopped abruptly and put a hand on my chest. “You don’t get to come in yet,” she said, “Stay here and take off all your clothes.” I wondered about arguing, but I had spent enough time with Gina to know this was futile, and likely to earn me a slap or worse. As Gina went inside the cabin and set her backpack down, I stood on the porch, stripped naked, and put my clothes in a folded pile on the ground. Feeling vulnerable and humiliated, I waited for Gina to come back out.

She reappeared briefly, grabbing my clothes from the ground, then carrying them away. After a moment she came back, pulling a piece of cloth out of the backpack, saying with mock seriousness, “Jeez Kenny, you can’t just go running around naked outdoors, someone might see you!” She came toward me, and I realized that the piece of cloth she was holding was a tattered hospital gown. She unfolded it and held it out, indicating that I should put my arms in the arm holes. I did so, and she wrapped the thin cloth around my body, tying it in back. The gown, white with faded pink decorative markings ended just above my knees, and the protrusion of fabric caused by my erect cock looked absolutely ridiculous. I felt even more exposed than I had when I was naked, if that was feasible.

“Ok, over here,” she directed, pulling me over to one of the wooden beams supporting the upper level. “Put your back against the post, hands behind it,” she said, and I did as instructed. As I did, she produced a length of rope from her backpack. She moved behind me, and started tying my wrists together. When my wrists were secured, she used the remaining length of the rope to wrap from my wrists around my belly, and around again two times before tying a knot in back. With this finished, my wrists were tied securely together behind the post, and my body was secured to the post with the loops around my belly. Next she went to work on my ankles, tying them together first, then around the post.

Gina paused to look at me. “Oh, that’s good,” she said, surveying her work, “You’re definitely not going anywhere. But, we’re not done yet!” She then reached into her backpack and pulled out two black belts. They looked like they were made of canvas, and seemed to be of the size that might be worn around a woman’s waist. The first belt went around my knees and the post, cinched tightly securing my legs to the post at the knee. She held the second belt in her hand, walking slowly and seductively around me. Finally, she came around behind me, reaching the belt in front of my face, then lowering it to my neck. She guided the belt across the front of my neck, and looped it behind the post. She fiddled with the belt behind my back for a moment, apparently not having anticipated that there wouldn’t be a notch to buckle it at this small circumference. She finally tied it in a knot behind the post, leaving enough slack that it wasn’t choking me, but I couldn’t move my head very much in any direction.

I felt a bit of alarm at having this belt around my neck, and I started envisioning all the methods I could choke on it. But then I took in the sensation of being completely immobilized to this post, and saw Gina standing casually in front of me, watching me. “You like that Kenny? I’ve got you by the neck this time,” she said. I knew better than to openly gawk at her, but with so little movement feasible for my head, I was forced to stare right at her. Her jeans were loose and somewhat frayed, and I noticed that my suspicion that her bra was back on the floor of the car was correct. I could see the outlines of her round, large breasts in the white v-neck shirt, and her nipples poked small peaks into surface of the thin fabric.

Gina pushed up against me, taking my cock in her hand through the flimsy cloth of the hospital gown. With her other hand she reached behind me, fondling my butt cheeks through the open slit in the back of the gown, positioning me so that my crack lined up with the corner of the wooden beam, then pushing me hard against it so that the beam pushed between my cheeks. All of a sudden her face was pressed to mine, and she was kissing me, open mouthed, aggressive and wet. This went on for a few moments, her tongue probing and pushing, leaving me to stand open-mouthed, receiving. Her hand on my cock pulled away, and she ground her crotch against me. With my shoes off and hers on, our height difference was minimized and she was able to dry-hump me standing on her toes. We continued like this for several minutes, Gina thrusting her crotch against mine, pushing and rubbing, alternating between her forcible kissing, and holding her hand over my mouth.

Eventually she pulled away, taking a step back, and leaving me slightly breathless. Gina considered me for a moment, looking me up and down. Seeming to come to a conclusion, she said in a husky voice, “No sense in drawing things out. Seeing what I’ve done to you, I need to come right now.”

She circled behind me, unbuckling the belt that was holding my knees to the post, and starting to untie my ankles. When she finished with that, my lower body was free from the post, but my upper body was still held fast. “Slide down, on your knees,” she said. I dropped roughly down the post to my knees, my hands still tied behind the post, my neck still tethered to the post with the belt, and my feet now behind the post. Seeing this, Gina re-tied my feet as close as they would get together behind the post, forcing me to spread me knees in front of the post.

There was an urgency to her movements that was a contrast from her usual possible but deliberate application of rope. In a flash she was in front of me again, pulling down her jeans and skimpy underwear, exposing her hairy bare crotch. She came forward toward me, saying shakily “You know what to do.” As she stepped close to me, my mouth was just a little too high up to be at the same height as her pussy, and she pushed me down by the shoulders until she was able to position her pussy on top of my mouth. She then gripped the back of my head with both hands, and pulled me into her, my tongue already searching for her clit. It took me a moment of fumbling to discover it, as I took in the familiar raw taste and subtly unclean smell. She was in complete control of me as usual but her body was moving in almost a panic, as if finally in reach of something so desperately anticipated. My tongue, seemingly the only part of my body that wasn’t controlled by her bonds, licked backward and forward against her clit. It was a struggle maintaining enough contact with the gyrations of her body, but this seemed intentional as she rationed her pleasure, grinding against me hard, then pulling away, then grinding again. After a few moments, her entire body seemed to convulse and she let out a series of tight, low-pitched sounds, each one something between a moan and a grunt. She released some of the pressure her hands were putting on the back of my head, saying in a low whisper, “Fuuuckin’ A.”

Gina didn’t move for a long moment, as we both caught our breath. Finally, her hands came off the back of my head, on to my shoulders. She looked down at me contemplatively from her standing position, with me still bound in a kneeling position, my wrists and feet tied behind the wooden post. She hadn’t moved her body, which was still right in front of me, her crotch even with my face, my nose in contact with the top of her bush. She started to lower herself down, inch by inch, her impossibly strong legs bending at the knees to squat down. Lower and lower she went, until her face was nearly even with mine. I felt her swiftly lift the ridiculous gown up so that my hard cock felt the brush of fabric, then the cool of air. And suddenly, with no words or fuss, she was on me, and I was in her. She gazed intently into my eyes as she finished lowering herself on to my cock, and my universe collapsed down to the wet, welcoming warmth of her.