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CH 29
A few months after Dale’s death I took a job as a night auditor at an armored car company. The job involved reconciling invoices against customer accounts. The work was tedious but it did require a high degree of precision. Money institutions are very fussy about accounting for every penny, they want everything to balance. For that reason I worked in a quiet place as free of distractions as possible.
I sat alone in a large office from eleven at night until seven in the morning. During the day and evening shifts the office was staffed by a dozen or so people, but at night I was by myself. After the swing shift crew went home I was locked in the office by myself until seven a.m.
The armored car company was a fascinating place. It was a repository for millions of dollars in cash, much of it in massive amounts of coin. We stored money for banks and there was so much that they actually used forklifts and little tractors to move it around. In one sense, the money was just a lot of freight to be handled.
Security was tight. There were armed guards on duty around the clock. Some were company employees and some were off duty police officers moonlighting for extra pay. Identification was checked and double checked at the door by men who were very conscientious. When they opened the big garage doors to let the armored cars in and out men armed with shotguns stood on the sidewalks until the doors were closed.
Employees couldn’t just wander around the place. We were only permitted to go to and from our authorized areas and if someone tried to go through the wrong door they could get in a lot of trouble.
My office wasn’t considered a particularly high security area, not as important as the main vaults or the cash handling department, but it had thick concrete walls, heavy steel doors, and had to be staffed at all times. The walls were so thick that no sound penetrated. One time a guard accidentally fired his shotgun into the ceiling in the main bay and I didn’t hear it.
If I wanted to leave the office I had to call the shift supervisor and get permission, and I had to have a good reason. The supervisor would have to send someone to relieve me. It was often difficult to find a relief, even for a few minutes so I was encouraged to stay in the office. Since my duties didn’t involve moving around the building I couldn’t justify asking for a relief. Getting bored and wanting to wander around did not qualify. There was a employee break room but my office had a restroom, a refrigerator, a hot plate and a coffee pot so I was ‘encouraged’ to take my breaks in the office.
The facility was busy around the clock and armored cars came and went at all hours. I was surprised to learn that they had over the road routes that covered rural areas of the state. They drove very large armored cars with four man crews. They stopped at banks and businesses in small towns all over Colorado. They even had routes that made a week long circuit through surrounding states. I checked and found that one of our trucks stopped at Mom’s bank once a week.
Messengers, drivers, and guards were always coming and going, and there were night shifts for the switchboard, dispatch center, maintenance crews, janitors and mechanics. They even had an indoor car wash crew.
My office was a large open room with about ten desks and work tables. Smaller offices branched off as well as more work rooms, storage rooms, file rooms and supply closets.
At night packages of money were made up in the cash department and coin vault and set aside for the next shift. Those packages were huge and could fill several pallets, but some packages were small, sometimes no more than an envelope. The large packages were staged in a huge room but the smaller ones had a tendency to get lost so they were kept in my office. After the crews loaded the large packages on their trucks they would come to my office for the small ones. We had a window with a sliding steel door mounted in the wall. It had metal screens on the sides so that anyone standing outside couldn’t look in to the office. All they could see was the person inside the window.
When the messengers came they pushed a buzzer and I would go to the window. All shift long that buzzer went off with packages being delivered by the cash room staff or picked up by the messengers.
We stacked the packages on shelves beside the window. They were sealed in tamper proof containers and I actually never touched the money. All I had to do was get a receipt.
The accounting work was not demanding and I worked quickly. I usually got through the auditing within five or six hours. After that I had nothing to do but respond to the buzzer, and about half way through the sift that tapered off. It was boring and I was permitted to bring in books and magazines, but you can only read so much.
One night out of boredom I decide to tidy up the place. Some of the storerooms hadn’t been cleaned in years. There were piles of dusty wrapping materials, boxes with odds and ends, ancient coffee cups, stacks of unused company forms and just plain trash. Among the junk I found a box full of nylon webbing.
I started in one store room. I set aside anything that looked like it was usable and threw away everything else. I filled a dozen big trash bags and called for a janitor to come take them away. Then I began tidying up the room. When I finished I took the box of webbing to my desk. I sorted the straps then began rolling them into neat bundles. I was rolling the straps and putting rubber bands on them when suddenly I had a vision of myself in bondage, tied up with nylon webbing.
It came out of nowhere! One moment I was working and the next I was so horny that I couldn’t believe it. It was as if I’d been physically hit. It was disconcerting and I jumped to my feet and walked around the room. My face was flushed and I was breathing very hard. I tried to be professional and put it out of my mind. I took a deep breath and marched back to my desk and finished rolling up the straps. Then I placed them neatly in the box and put it in a supply room. I busied myself with other little tasks and tried to ignore the throbbing between my legs.
The erotic feeling was wonderful, but I was disturbed that the mere sight of some old webbing could affect me so powerfully. Normally I would have promptly tied myself up right then and there, but I felt that it would be unprofessional. I was being paid to do a job, not to give in to my erotic whims.
The company was very strict and from the beginning I was impressed with the high degree of sober, professional behavior among the employees. It wasn’t like my job at the mall. I knew that I shouldn’t try the kind of shenanigans I’d pulled there. I concentrated on my work.
I’m a very weak woman and my resolve lasted about an hour. The box of straps was calling to me. I was so aroused that I gave in.
I went to the box and took out a handful of the straps. I returned to my desk and just looked at them. I was like a reformed alcoholic staring at a bottle of booze trying not to give in to temptation. I wasn’t strong enough. I gave up the fight and buckled a strap around my ankles.
I felt that old familiar flash of heat in my pussy. I added a strap to my knees and really tightened that one. I wanted to tie my hands but didn’t dare. The straps were wide and stiff and had to be buckled not tied. I was afraid if I somehow managed to buckle one around my wrists I might not be able to get free. (I later experimented at my apartment and found that to be exactly the case. I couldn’t get loose and had to have Bob come free me). Having my legs tied so tightly was enough to bring me close to an orgasm. I wanted to touch my pussy but I was wearing slacks. I was debating whether to take my pants off when the buzzer sounded. A messenger was at the window.
I was startled and instinctively jumped to my feet. I forgot that my legs were bound, fell onto the desk and smashed my breasts hard. That caused an orgasm, but I didn’t have time to enjoy it. I tried to stand up, toppled sideways and landed on the floor. I panicked and frantically tried to loosen the webbing but the buckles were too tight. The buzzer sounded again so I grabbed the desk, pulled myself got to my feet and hopped to the window. I took a deep breath and slid it open.
The messenger didn’t notice anything amiss. The walls were so thick that he didn’t hear the clatter when I fell off the desk. He smiled and asked for his packages. I asked him to wait a moment, closed the window and hopped to the shelf were the packages were kept. I got his packages, hopped back, smoothed my hair and tried to control my breathing. I opened the window and signed them out to him.
After he left I hopped to a chair and managed to get the webbing loose. Then I yanked my slacks down., spread my legs and played with my pussy until I came. After I calmed down I stepped out of my slacks and panties and washed my face at the rest room. As I walked to my desk I realized that I was naked from the waist down. That was exciting! Feeling guilty, wicked and sexy, I rolled the webbing up and returned it to the box, then reluctantly I got dressed.
Day shift arrived and I went home. I slept fitfully and dreamt of being in bondage.
I resisted doing bondage at work because I didn’t want to get caught and lose my job and my reputation. All the daring and naughty things I’d done in the past, from renting myself out as a slave to indulging Lady L in her fantasies had been done under the protection of anonymity. Even when I was arrested and spent the night in the police station it had been done under a false name. This was different. If I got caught everyone would know.
Except that was exciting! The risk of getting caught made tying myself all the more tempting. During my hours of broken sleep I slipped into a dream.
I dreamt I was at work, naked and strapped up like a mummy. I had tied myself but I’d overdone it. The webbing was so tight that I couldn’t get free. I couldn’t get up to answer the window. The messengers buzzed and buzzed but I couldn’t move. Finally a supervisor came in and found me. The messengers followed him and everyone stared at me. The supervisor took me to the general manager’s office.
He brought in two security officers. They didn’t untie me. The supervisor wanted the general manager to see what I’d done to myself. They stood me up then marched me out the door, across the central bay and up the stairs into the administrative offices. (I say marched but since my legs were tightly bound I had to hop, which made my boobs jiggle nicely). All work came to a stop and the noisy building became silent as everyone stared at me. I was in an agony of embarrassment.
I stood blushing in front of the general manager’s desk while the supervisor made his report. The manager made me tell him what I’d been doing. I confessed to being a kinky, perverted sex obsessed little slut. He told me that he had no choice but to fire me, but I begged and pleaded and offered to submit to any punishment if only I could keep my job. I suggested that he make me kneel and suck his cock, as well as the shift supervisor’s and the guards. They suggested that it would be a sufficient punishment but he thought it over and decided that I would have to be whipped instead. I agreed and begged him to whip me on the spot. He decided that my punishment would have to be done in public.
He told the guards to take me down to the bay. I hopped back down the stairs and eagerly followed them to the center of the room. Everyone in the building gathered round while a cable was lowered from the ceiling and attached to my ankles. I was hoisted upside down and the manager told them that I’d been caught tying myself up on company time, then he took off his jacket and rolled up his sleeves and gave me the whipping of my life. Afterwards I was left hanging for the other shifts to see as a warning to other wicked women who might be tempted to tie themselves up on the job.
I awoke from that dream in a hot sweat. I threw off the covers, spread my legs and masturbated furiously.
When I went to work that night I gave up on my resolve to be good. I was hopeless. I wore a skirt and high heels, which attracted a lot of attention as I crossed the bay. I stopped at the supply room and asked for a work smock and a sweater. (Many of the women wore smocks to keep their street clothes clean and the place could get chilly at night so the company provided sweaters). The smocks were simple cotton wrap arounds that secured with a tie.
The sweaters came in two styles, pull over and cardigan. They are good quality, thick and warm and have the company logo embroidered on them. The man in supply bent the rules and gave me one of each.
(I still have both sweaters. They are old and worn now, but sometimes on a cool day when I’m alone in the house I slip one on. And I don’t wear anything else).
As soon as I was alone in the office I stripped naked and fashioned a hobble for my ankles out of webbing. Moving around was slow but sexy. I could take only small steps which made my boobs jiggle. I fell over a few times until I got the hang of walking in hobble and heels. I worked in the nude for several hours but got cold so I put on the sweater. I was still naked from the waist down but that was just fine. I waited in anticipation for the first messenger to come to the window.
I jumped when the buzzer finally rang, but spread my legs and played with myself for a few seconds, then hobbled to the window. The messenger couldn’t see that I was naked below the waist. He also didn’t seem to notice that I took very small steps as I gave him his packages.
Later in my shift I got colder so I traded my sweater for the smock and I added a pussy rope I improvised out of some heavy twine. It wasn’t like Dale’s wonderful golden chain, but it would suffice. It kept my pussy warm and damp.
Later I brought a tee shirt and kept it in my locker. It was short and didn’t even reach my navel. Sometimes I wore it when I answered the window. It had the added advantage of showing my nipples clearly. The messengers were in no hurry to leave when I wore that shirt.
I wanted to wear my golden pussy chain to work, but decided that it would likely set off the metal detectors. It might be erotic, having to strip in front of the security men and to explain my chain, but it would have cost me my job. I didn’t dare take any of my bondage gear to work so I had to improvise with what I could find around the office.
When my shift was over I went home, tied my self to my bed and slept soundly.
Working naked wasn’t as risky as it sounds because only one other person, the shift supervisor, had access to my office. To get in he rang the buzzer, then went to the door and inserted his key in the lock. He had to turn the key while I pushed a button on the inside.
The supervisor rarely came in and I always had enough warning to take my hobble off and slip into my smock. If I was slow answering the door he assumed I was busy in the file room in the back. In an emergency he could get in by calling the guard in the main control room and having him unlock the door by remote control. That was meant to be used only in the event that the girl inside had dropped dead of a heart attack or something.
Each night I cleaned another of the work rooms. The junk that I came across was astonishing, and I found many things to use for bondage.
I found some plastic pipe an inch in diameter. I cut a foot long section using a box knife. It made an excellent spreader bar. I threaded a strap through the pipe and buckled each end around my legs just above my knees. It kept my legs wide apart and I loved sitting at my desk wearing it. I worked that way for hours. Other times I simply strapped my ankles to the legs of my chair.
At first glance you wouldn’t think that an office would provide many opportunities for bondage, but never underestimate the abilities of a determined, perverted young woman.
I discovered hooks on the ceilings, an overhead track in the hallway, heavy shelving in the store rooms and lots of pipes. I’d back up to a pipe, reach back and tie my wrist behind it as if to a stake. The overhead track was perfect for hanging by my wrists. And there were desks, tables, and chairs; all sorts of wonderful things for a girl to tie herself to.
CH 30
The department manager was a starchy, no nonsense older woman named Lillian. She was in her forties and ran that department with an iron hand. I never saw her smile. She dressed rather severely and wore her hair in a bun. Behind her back everyone called her Mrs. Grundy. She had heavy breasts, a thick waist, and fat legs, and she turned me on like crazy!
She had pictures of her children on her desk but never talked about them or her husband. She had a wall around herself like a fortress. I liked to imagine that beneath her iron exterior there was a hot passionate dominatrix and with my attraction to older women I wanted to be dominated by her.
She often arrived early and was working long before the day shift came in. One morning I brought her a cup of coffee and tried to chat but she let me know that she was too busy. I wondered what she would have done if she knew that a few hours earlier I had tied myself naked in her chair.
I was intrigued by that cold, aloof woman. I wondered if I could entice her out of that emotional castle and seduce her. I flirted a tiny bit but she paid no attention and I didn’t dare become too obvious.
I dreamt of being her slave. I wanted to kneel at her feet and see her smile down at me as she lifted her skirt.
I was at my desk one morning waiting to get off work. Lillian came in but barely acknowledged my existence. I watched her putter around the office for a few minutes, then sit down. I slipped into a daydream where I was tied naked under her desk. I imagined that she wasn’t wearing panties. She spread her legs and I looked lovingly at her pussy. She put her hand between her legs and motioned me to come close. I inched forward on my knees and put my face in her pussy. She clamped her legs together and held my head tightly between her thighs. I licked and kissed her pussy until she had an orgasm, then her hand reappeared and motioned me back. I backed up and waited.
All day I knelt under Lillian’s desk and all day she sat with her legs apart tantalizing me. From time to time she would put her hand under the desk and point at her pussy and I would bring her to another orgasm. I had to be alert, any delay on my part made her angry and I would be punished. She would pull me from under the desk by my hair, bend me over her lap and spank me. In my dream spanking was Lillian’s standard method of punishing subordinates. Several times a day she would bring other women into her office and spank them for some infraction. From my little cave under her desk I watched as other women were bent over her lap with their skirts up and panties down.
My fantasy grew and in it I became Lillian’s permanent office slave. My only duty was to eat her pussy. She had one of the store rooms converted to a cell with iron bars and a bunk. If she left the office she would lock me in the cell. I spent my nights there but didn’t get much rest because as soon as Lillian left the other girls came to my cell and took turns sitting on my face. I was a round the clock slave and had to please all three shifts.
I was deep into my day dream when I realized that Lillian was looking at me. I had been staring at her. My nipples were hard and I have no idea what my expression was like, but she looked at me as if she could read my mind. I blushed and felt like she had seen right through me.
I had absolutely no reason to believe that Lillian was interested in girls, but I wondered if I dared to try to seduce her. In the end I didn’t try, I limited my efforts to minor flirtation, which she probably mistook as buttering up the boss. Looking back, I wish I had tried harder. Even now, after all these years, I sometimes masturbate thinking about being spanked by Lillian.
I also fantasized about being bound by other co workers, but I never was. All my bondage was self imposed.
So I hung myself by my wrists from ceiling hooks, tied myself to pipes and shelves, desks and chairs, but always alone.
Once I tied myself spread wide on a work table and fell asleep. I didn’t hear the buzzer. I woke up to a series of angry buzzes. I frantically untied myself, threw on my smock and ran to the window. The messenger was very annoyed and told me that I was going to put him behind schedule. I apologized and told him I had a touch of tummy flu and had been in the bathroom.)
I had another close call that was very exciting. I was hanging from my wrists in one of the back rooms when the supervisor walked in. I hadn’t heard the buzzer so he had security open the door. The room I was in was dark and although he seemed to look right at me he didn’t see me. I was terribly frightened but excited too. What would he do if he found me? Would he take advantage of me? Could I talk him in to whipping me? Fortunately the bathroom door was closed. He looked at it, shook his head and walked out. I released myself, masturbated until I screamed.
He came back later and I was properly clothed and busy at my desk.
One night as I cleaned another room I was delighted to find a box full of rope. It was old and dirty and tangled. I spent a long time unsnarling the rope, which turned out to be an assortment of various lengths. I strapped myself tightly to my chair while I sorted the rope. Now I could tie myself up, including my wrists, and use my ability to untie myself quickly. I began tying myself into some delicious hog ties.
CH 31
During this time I had some rather nice bondage sex with MAC and Bob. The effect of being naked night after night made me super horny. As soon as I got home every morning I would tie myself to my bed and wait for Bob to come by. Sometimes he was busy and didn’t make it right away. I often fell asleep tied to my bed.
One day I was asleep. He let himself in, undressed and climbed on top of me. I awoke to his cock inside me. It was incredible! One second I was asleep, the next, there was a big heavy, hairy male on top of, and inside me. I instinctively tried to get up but the ropes on my wrists and ankles kept me pinned. For a split second I panicked. I was truly helpless and being raped!
Boy, was that a turn on! I was coming almost before I opened my eyes. I screamed so loud that Bob clamped his hands over my mouth and I came so violently that I almost tossed him off my body. He sat up and watched me thrashing like an insane woman, then climbed back on and slammed his cock back into me. That set me off again and I swear we could have been heard for blocks. When I regained my senses Bob was screwing me fast and furiously. The next time he took a break I asked him to gag me.
My explosive orgasms seemed to inspire Bob (or at least feed his ego) because he spent the entire day screwing me, (and I have to give him credit for stamina) he could be an arrogant s.o.b., but his cock stayed hard for hours.
I barely got a wink of sleep and went to work that night exhausted, but it was a day I’ll always remember.
I dropped by the sex shop and told Mary and Denise about my self bondage. They were impressed and wanted to hear everything in great detail. Denise got glassy eyed when I told about being fucked awake, but she was particularly intrigued about working naked in a building full of people.
“I’ve walked around the house in the nude,” she said. “And at the dungeon, but never in a regular place. It gets me hot just thinking about it.”
“Maybe you ought to go to work there,” Mary suggested. “Then you two could work naked together.”
“The problem is that we’d never get any work done,” I said. “We would spend the shift eating each other’s pussies.”
“True,” Mary said.
“Can you make phone calls from work?” Denise asked.
“Sure, but what do you mean?” I asked.
“I think you could have a phone sex business on the side,” Denise said. You could talk dirty to men and get paid for it, and being naked would likely inspire you to some very naughty phone fantasies.”
“I don’t think being naked has anything to do with it,” Mary laughed. “I think our girl is a natural born slut.”
“You’ve got that right,” I admitted. I was intrigued by the idea. Telephone sex was just becoming popular and I’d heard that some women made a lot of money doing it.
“Unfortunately the company records all telephone calls for security reason,” I told them.
“You mean there is no way to make a personal call in privacy?” Denise asked.
“There is one unsecured line in the building,” I told her. “Its in the employee break room. I don’t see myself sitting naked in there making dirty phone calls while everybody sits around listening.”
“Yeah,” mused Mary. “You’d have to figure out a way to charge them too.”
I reached out and pinched her nipple.
“Ooh! Do that again,” she said.
I didn’t go in to the phone sex business, at least not then. The company would have caught on in a flash and remember, this was the seventies, cell phones hadn’t been invented yet.
As I was going to work one evening it dawned on me that security wasn’t too careful about checking people coming in the building. They were more concerned with what someone might be taking out. They but looked very closely at outgoing employees but made only perfunctory checks on incoming ones. The next night I smuggled a vibrator in, but just in case they decided to check my purse I wore it up my pussy.
That night the evening crew didn’t leave right away. There was a discrepancy in their accounting and they all had to stay until it was cleared up. I wanted to be alone so I could play with my dildo and offered to help, but I wasn’t permitted. The shift supervisor said that it was their responsibility.
I was so frustrated that I could barely sit still.
Finally everything was reconciled and they left. I practically tore my clothes off. I was tying a pussy rope in place to hold my vibrator when the entry door buzzed. I could have wept. I tossed the rope away, threw on my smock, then opened the door. The evening shift supervisor and the night shift supervisor had decided to go over the books one more time.
They sat in the Lillian’s office and read through the invoices for almost two hours. I sat at my desk doing accounts and tried not to let my dildo slip out. The supervisors asked me to make a pot of coffee so I had to stand up and walk around. I was in an agony of embarrassment worrying about that vibrator, but after a while I began to enjoy it. I had to struggle to keep the thing up my pussy and pretend that everything was normal, but the danger made it exciting. Being naked under my smock was thrilling too.
I brought them their coffee and stood with my legs clamped tightly while I poured it. I went back to my desk. They seemed to be in no hurry to leave and my legs were cramping with the effort to keep my vibrator inside me. I carefully reached under my desk and buckled a strap around my knees. They didn’t notice. Finally they finished and started to leave.
They stopped at my desk and chatted with me. The vibrator in my pussy, being nude under my smock, and the entire situation made me so excited that my nipples showed clearly through my smock. They were looking and trying to peek down my front. I enjoyed the attention and actually moved around letting the smock open up a little. I casually rested my hand in my lap as we talked, then slowly slid my smock up. They were across my desk and couldn’t see as I undid the strap around my legs and opened my knees. I played with my pussy. I could easily have made myself come and wondered if I could have an orgasm without them noticing. I was enjoying myself but I really wanted them to leave so I could tie myself up. Finally they got a call on their portable radios and had to leave. The instant the door closed behind them my orgasm hit.
Another little thing I rigged up tied me to the service window. A steel bracket supported a shelf inside the window. I found a large metal key ring and threaded it through the bracket. I brought a snap hook and tied it to my pussy rope. When someone buzzed for service I would stand close to the window, clip the snap hook to the ring and tug the rope tight. I could pull it so tight that my belly was pressed against the shelf and I couldn’t move. I just had to have everything for the messenger within arm’s reach.
I wanted nipple clamps and experimented with document clips. I used small ones because the big ones were too strong and really hurt. (The only way I could enjoy that kind of pain was when someone else inflicted in on me). The smaller ones worked just fine for my nipples and pussy lips. Later I brought some real nipple clamps and wore them. I particularly enjoyed hanging weights from them. The swinging weight. were a real turn on as I walked around.
I got so used to working naked that at times I forgot and almost opened the window with nothing on.
The company made some modifications to the building. In my area they added a small one way window that permitted us to see who was at the service window before we opened it. And they installed a foot pedal that opened the window.
I loved the little one way window. It allowed me to watch people moving around the main bay. I stood naked and tied in front of that little window for many an hour. Nice, but the foot pedal gave me an idea for a very daring escapade.
I opened the window one night and signed out a shipment of packages to one of the messengers, then I began flirting with him. I was wearing only a tee shirt and if he’d leaned in just a little he could have seen my pussy. I’d added a loop of rope to the back of my pussy rope. While we talked I casually reached back and slid one hand through the loop, then did the same with my other hand. I slowly twisted the loop around my wrists until it was very tight. I was wearing a very short hobble and had already hooked my pussy rope to the bracket. I was completely immobilized. To the messenger I simply appeared to be standing with my hands clasped behind my back. He never guessed that I was bound hand and foot. When he left I took my foot off the pedal and let the window close. I was wearing very high heels and my foot slipped. I stumbled, fell backwards but my pussy rope slammed me forward against the wall. The rope tightened horribly in my pussy and triggered an orgasm that I remember to this day.
I think I screamed but of course no one heard. I hung in my bonds in a very twisted position until the key ring gave way and I fell to the floor. I lay there for a long time, alternating between terrible pain in my crotch and wonderful pulsating passion in the same spot. When I fell my hobble and wrist loops got tangled and I couldn’t get loose. That was scary, but very exciting. I reveled in my helplessness and wished someone would come and find me. After a while I wriggled around and used my old escape skills to get loose. My pussy was bruised for days but I loved it. I repeated that scenario many times, although I managed not to fall down again.
CH32
I thought up some other erotic fantasies. My favorite involved being delivered to a slave master in an armored car.
Although the company primarily delivered money and negotiables, we did carry other valuables. On occasion we delivered jewelry shipments and pieces of art. Once we transported a collection of paintings from the airport to the art museum. The paintings were on loan from the Louvre and a big deal was made in the press. (Actually I think it was more of a publicity stunt than anything else). But, if the company can deliver anything why not deliver slaves?
I fantasized about being kept naked in chains in a vault with other slave girls, then taken out, signed for and led across the huge bay and lifted into the back of an armored car. Inside I’d be chained securely to the floor and driven through the city to the palatial home of some rich slave master. Along the way the driver, guards, and messenger just might take turns tampering with their cargo. When we arrived at my destination the guards would get out and form a cordon around the car (attracting a lot of attention from passersby) then the door would be opened and I would be led out and into the mansion.
One Saturday afternoon I was out with Lady L. She was indulging in her favorite pass time of exposing herself in public and invited me to go with her. We were both in short skirts and no panties. We were having coffee at an outdoor café (sitting with our legs apart) and I told her about my job, self bondage and my armored car fantasy. She loved it and we talked about it through several cups of coffee and a stack of pastries.
Lady L elaborated on the theme. She decided instead of a mansion that we should be delivered to a penthouse in a high rise building in downtown Denver. That way we would be seen by more people on the busy downtown sidewalk. And after we had been off loaded from the armored car (naked of course) we would be taken inside and held in the lobby until the concierge could call the penthouse and inform them that a shipment of slaves had arrived. Whom ever he spoke to asked him to bring us up, so he had to sign for us (after a good inspection of course) then run us up the elevator. We were met at the door of the penthouse by a very haughty English butler who refused to permit us to enter until he had personally inspected us. And in order to ascertain that we met the high standards that his employer set, he had to run us through a series of tests which included spanking, cock sucking and a quickie fuck with each of us. When he was satisfied, (in more ways than one) he tied us to a pair of beds to await the arrival of the master of the house.
We giggled about the fantasy, and tried to decide who among Denver’s upper society we would want to be delivered to. We got so excited that we cut short our exhibition excursion and went to Lady L’s apartment. We jumped in bed and had some pretty wild sex until Lord L came home, then he tied us together to the bed and ‘forced’ us to eat each other’s pussy all night long.
Lady L liked the delivery scenario so well that she asked her husband if there was some way we could play it out. He looked into it but unfortunately you simply can’t call Hertz and rent an armored car for an afternoon. Lady L was disappointed, however, Lord L did arrange for her to play out that fantasy a few months later.
It took place in Vancouver, Canada of all places. Lord L took us up there in a private jet. We flew the entire way naked and in chains. We landed at a small airfield and two large uniformed men got on the plane. The pilot met them and had them sign a receipt for us. They looked us over intently, taking many liberties with our bodies in the process, then signed the receipt.
They marched us off the plane to a nearby truck. It was a box van and had a sign: ‘Slave Girl Delivery Service’ on the side. Three other men waited at the truck and took delivery of ‘two American female slaves’. They were very careful and inspected us thoroughly before they would sign off. (It seems that every body involved took extreme care to verify that we were the correct slaves.) Once we’d been signed for we had to hop up a ramps into the truck.
The truck had hooks on the walls and ceiling. Chains dangled from some, leather straps from others. A chair was bolted to the wall for the guard to sit in. A box had some rope, manacles and handcuffs lying in it as if carelessly tossed in after use. The truck looked as if it were used to transport a lot of slaves. It all had an air of authenticity.
The pilot, Lord L and the men who had taken us off the plane watched as Lady L and I were chained to the walls. We here locked with our arms and legs wide apart. The guards took their time and used ratchets to tighten the chains. They would tighten them a small amount, wait for our muscles to stretch, then tighten them some more. As they did this they care fully checked our arms and legs for signs of over straining. For some reason they also checked our breasts and pussies. They explained to Lord L that they didn’t want the ‘merchandise’ bouncing around during the trip. They attached weighted nipple clamps to our breasts. The guard said that way he could watch for excessive bouncing. To demonstrate he shook one of Lady L’s breasts. She rolled up her eyes and had an orgasm on the spot.
The men were concerned that she had orgasmed without permission and debated whether or not that constituted product tampering. They jiggled her other breast and when she didn’t respond (she was in a state of euphoria at the moment) they decided it was ok. Just to be sure though, they jiggled and bounced her boobs around for several minutes. I watched wondering when someone was going to get around to checking my breasts. I finally had to resort to shaking them myself to attract some attention. Sure enough they crowded around me and tested my boobs too. When they were satisfied, (and made one last check between our legs), one guard took a seat in the back with us, the doors were closed and locked and we drove away.
I have been tied and chained in some very secure positions over my lifetime, but those men had me tighter than anything I had ever experienced. I was so hot I was sweating. Lady L who generally prefers exhibitionism to bondage was also very highly aroused.
We were driven all over the city. They doors had small tinted windows and we could see out. I wondered if people could see us, but since the police weren’t called to stop the truck I presume that we were invisible, darn it.
I enjoyed myself but Lady L was in heaven. She had an expression of pure ecstasy the entire trip.
We rode for several hours, then the truck stopped.
“We’re at the border,” the driver said. “Canadian customs.”
I wasn’t sure if he was kidding or not, then the back door opened and a man wearing the uniform of a Canadian customs service inspector climbed in. He nodded to the guard who handed him a clipboard. The customs inspector read our invoice, then looked us over. He asked us our names, our ages and our measurements. When we told him our breast, waist, and hip sizes he brought out a tape measure and verified them against the invoice. This involved a lot of handling, pinching and squeezing. Finally satisfied that we were the correct merchandise, he handed the clipboard back to the guard and left.
The truck drove a short distance and stopped again.
“American customs,” the driver called out.
Another man got in, wearing the US Customs Service uniform. He went through the same procedure of inspecting our bodies and verifying that we were just two slaves being shipped across the border. (By that point I was so turned on that I didn’t question why Lord L had flown us to Canada only to have us driven back into the United States.) He went a bit further than the Canadian officer. He demanded to know how deep out pussies were. We couldn’t tell him so he measured them. He used a device that looked a lot like a long dildo marked off like a ruler. He inserted it up our pussies and noted the depth. He did it three times for each of us, explaining to the guard that they had to average the three measurements. The guard nodded indifferently.
Lady L and I weren’t indifferent. We were both highly turned on and she had an another orgasm while her pussy was being measured. Both the customs officer and the guard ignored her.
The customs officer signed the clipboard and away we went.
We drove some more, then finally arrived at our destination. The truck stopped at a large lovely house in the country. About fifteen or twenty people were enjoying a lawn party. They grew quiet and watched as we hopped down the ramp. We stood on the driveway and went through another detailed inspection, then we were led inside the house. The basement was equipped with a large dungeon and we were locked into cells. A pair of middle aged women in skimpy maids costumes brought us dinner and later helped us clean up and touch up our makeup. The guests came trooping down stairs and our ordeal began.
The rest of the visit consisted of the usual round of bondage, torture (heavy for me, light for Lady L), forced sex in front of the other guests and being gang screwed together by at least twelve men and several women.
After two days were loaded into the struck and driven back to the airport, and again we had to be inspected at the border and at the airport. Before they loaded us on to the plane, Lord L decide to show his appreciation to the truck driver and guards so he made us kneel and suck their cocks.
On the flight to Denver he permitted the pilot and co pilot to come back to the cabin and put their cocks in our mouths.
It turned out that everything had been staged by Lord L. We hadn’t crossed the border after all and the driver, guards and border agents were members of the bondage club that owned the house. Dear Lord L had gone to a great deal of trouble to arrange his wife’s fantasy.
That fantasy spawned another. I was talking to Mom on the phone. I’d already told her about some of my self bondage adventures at work. This time I was telling her of my fantasy about being delivered to somebody in an armored car. And I told her about discussing it with Lady L at the café.
“I you were with her I suppose you were exposing yourselves in public,” Mom said.
“We sure were,” I said. “And don’t you be critical, not after telling me what you did in Atlantic city.”
She sighed into the phone. “All right, go on with your story.”
“Lady L was so interested in the concept that she asked her husband to arrange it for her.”
(I didn’t mention our trip to Canada).
Mom laughed. “I have to admit that I’ve never considered armored cars very erotic.”
“Gee Mom,” I laughed. “Haven’t you ever looked at those strong handsome messengers in their uniforms?”
“Yes,” she said. “I am the person at the bank who is designated to sign for deliveries when the armored car arrives. There is one guard in particular who is very handsome, but I just never thought about being chained naked in his truck.”
“Ooh, just imagine being driven all over eastern Colorado in chains.” I sighed.
I imagined being chained to the wall of an armored truck with my mother chained to the opposite wall.
“Or, even better, we could be assigned as comfort slaves on one of those interstate routes.”
“How long did you say those crews were out?” she asked.
“A week,” I replied.
“Hmm, it does sound rather intriguing,” she mused. “Keeping four men satisfied for a week.”
“Actually I thought we would do it together,” I said. “We could be paired up.”
My pussy was tingling and my hand slipped into my panties all by itself.
“I don’t suppose they have beds in those trucks, do they?” Mom asked giggling.
“Actually they do,” I told her. “They’re equipped with extra large sleeper compartments with four bunks.”
“They have room for four bunks?” she asked.
“Sure do, the interstate armored cars are as big as semi tractor trailers. There’s plenty of room for the regular cargo and a couple of slave girls. In fact. . .”
“What?”
“Wow!” I said. “I just had a really wild idea.”
“I’m afraid to ask,” Mom laughed.
‘It just occurred to me that somebody could set up a traveling torture chamber in a big truck and drive all around the country with us in it.”
“You mean bringing the benefits of big city life to the poor under privileged yokels in the small towns?”
“Exactly.”
She shouted with laughter. It took her a long time to be able to talk. “I can just see it. A traveling dungeon arrives in town, parks in the truck stop and sells tickets to the locals so they can torture women. Right?”
“Right, and they can bring their wives and daughters and rent dungeon space for them too.” I paused for a moment. “Of course, there might be a problem.”
“What problem?”
“Well there would probably be lots of women from the towns volunteering.”
“Like running away to join the circus?” she laughed.
“Precisely. We would quickly run out of room and d have to turn them away.”
Mom dropped the phone.
It took her five minutes to be able to talk again.
“I doubt if your bosses would be receptive to the idea,” she said, still gasping with laughter. “You probably ought to suggest it to your friends Mary and Denise.”
“Ok, I’ll call them as soon as we get off the phone.”
Good idea. Now lets get back to the tamer fantasy of simply riding around in an armored car.”
“Well, we’d be chained in the truck with our arms and legs spread apart,” I said.
“And we would be naked, right?” she interrupted.
“Of course Mom. Between stops the crew could take turns. One could drive, two could be screwing us, and the fourth could be sleeping off his exhaustion.”
“And then they swap positions, right?”
“Correct.”
“I don’t suppose those trucks are equipped with showers and toilets are they?” she asked.
“No.”
“Then how do we stay clean?”
“They could stop at gas stations and truck stops and walk us in to use the rest rooms. And they could use a hose and wash us off every few hours.”
“Out of doors, in view of everyone? And we’d still be naked?”
“And in chains,” I said. “Remember, we would be slaves and slaves aren’t permitted dignity.”
“I’m more concerned with being washed off in cold water,” she said. “Especially in the winter.”
“Well, maybe they could take us inside in cold weather.”
“Ok, you’ve talked me into it,” she said. “Set it up with the company.”
Another idea came to me.
“Even if we don’t get to be slave girls for a crew, maybe I could talk the company into giving me a ride home in the truck that services your bank,” I said.
“Sure,” she said. “And I could sign a receipt for my daughter when it arrives.”
“No, you’d be signing a receipt for you naked daughter,” I laughed. “Who knows, perhaps we could set it up for you to ride in to Denver and visit me.”
“And I suppose you’d want me to ride naked in chains?” she laughed.
“Yup.”
Mom never got to ride in an armored car. Neither did I. Like all good things my job at the armored service company came to an end.
The company asked me to cross train on the switchboard and in the dispatch center so I could fill in when they were short handed. I didn’t like the idea but had no choice. As soon as I was trained the supervisors began pulling me out of my office and assigning me handle the phones or radios. I didn’t like that one bit, I had to keep my clothes on.
I complained to Lillian and she made the shift supervisors use me only when absolutely necessary and for a while things went back to normal, but then the company added two other girls to my shift. I couldn’t work alone any more, so I found another job and gave my notice. I’d worked there almost two years.
To this day when I see an armored car on the street I get a little tingle in my pussy.
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