Diversion Pt. 02

Diversion Part two

As we exit the opening of the abandoned mine shaft, I see nothing but thick woods and tall trees surrounding us. There's no visible path leading to the mine entrance, because of all the shrub growth and natural ground covering around it. Weeds, vines and moss cover all open ground not filled with trees and underbrush. I look around for a vehicle, but see nothing. And I see no tire tracks. This I can't understand, since they had to transport us here after chemically rendering us unconscious and dragging us out of our tent. And Kitty returned to our campsite to remove all traces of our presence there. But where is their van or car or truck? I'm holding the key I grabbed by the door on our way out - distinctly a type of ignition key - but no vehicles are in sight that could get us out of here. Then I remember that the door where we just exited became virtually concealed the moment it closed, and realize their garage would be hidden as well. There has to be another entrance to the mine, but I may never be able to find it. And we need to get away from here. For all I know, there may be other leather clad sadists on their way here. I toss the key ring aside.

Behind me, Sheree raises her hands to shield her eyes as she moves into the sun. As I turn and see her leaving the mine opening, her face winces in pain with each hesitant step. With raw, beaten soles from her caning and her ankles weighted down with heavy shackles, her steps are slow. After a few painful, tentative steps, she gathers as much determination as she can muster to follow me out of here and gestures for me to move on. But I don't know where I'm going.

And we can't communicate; the gags see to that, forcing our mouths wide open with a hard rubber ring wedged snuggly behind our front teeth. Having our hands and fingers free, you would think we could remove our gags. But no! The rings are secured in place with thick leather straps fitted tightly over our heads, which are locked on with padlocks. They are as unremovable as our shackles.

If I had to choose between having my wrists or ankles shackled, I would without hesitation prefer wrists. Shackled ankles restrict the movements of your legs when walking. You are forced to proceed at a slow, shuffling pace, because your stride is limited by the length of the chain, and the weight of the manacle around each ankle makes each step uncomfortable. We quickly learn that the leg chains create a whole other problem when you're walking through the woods. The chain can become entangled in something unseen on the ground. And then you stumble and possibly fall. It's extremely difficult to avoid things you can't see but can still cause you to trip. We move slowly, mindful of the dangers surrounding every step.

I'm guessing - having no clue of the actual time - this is early afternoon. It's sunny and warm and would be a great day to be out in the woods, unless you're lost, gagged and shackled.

So, we start walking. The car is about a mile away from the campsite, or so I remember. Having discovered that our campsite was being observed by a camera linked to Damon and Kitty's computer monitor- which is how we were targeted for abduction - I think the camera can only function fairly close to the mineshaft hideaway. That's what I think, but I don't know. So, we may not be far from the campsite, in whichever direction it might be - but I don't know. So, we start walking. I randomly choose a direction.

We walk slowly side by side, with my arm supporting Sheree. If it helps her, I don't know. She hasn't pushed it away. We constantly pause to disentangle our leg chains from impediments we encounter along the way. Tree roots, fallen branches, vines, rocks, and stones are all in our path, and all present problems. But we haven't fallen. We share the remaining bottle of water during these moments that we have to stop.

Drinking is difficult since it is hard to swallow with your jaws forced apart and your mouth wide open. To keep the water from spilling out of your mouth, you have to dribble the liquid into the back of your mouth slowly, or you begin choking. The first few times I tried it, I thought I was being waterboarded. But we have to have water, and I remembered seeing people chug beer. I'd never tried it, but if it worked for drunk fraternity guys, I can do it. You can swallow with your mouth open, as long as you pour only small amounts with your head tilted back. I notice Sheree is doing the same. I can imagine she must have been exposed to similar drunken fraternity guys, but that's as far as I want to go with that thought.

I listen for the sounds of car engines - however distant - in hopes of finding the road we accessed to get here. If we were to locate it, we wouldn't need the campsite as our guide to finding the car - assuming it's the same road where I left the car. But I hear nothing. Nothing but the sounds of two people dragging leg chains through the woods.

As we walk, I use my hand that isn't supporting Sheree's arm to try to loosen my gag. I begin searching with my fingers for some buckle I can somehow undo, in hopes of maneuvering the damn thing off of my head. When that doesn't work, I try stretching the leather straps to loosen it. The straps are so tight, I can't work a finger under them, so I resort to grabbing the straps on either side with my thumb and index finger and pulling outward. Since they are all interconnected, an outward pull on one pulls another one, or two, inward and tighter. The immediate discomfort from the tightening of the other straps is instant, but if the stretching loosens any strap, it will be better than what I am enduring. After a few moments tugging on the chin strap - the one I hate the most - I feel it loosen somewhat. Not loose enough to wiggle free of it, but less extreme biting pressure under my chin.

The next time we pause to disentangle a leg chain from some obstruction, I show Sheree how to stretch her gag straps. I use hand gestures to suggest what she should try, since it would require a full sentence of speech at a minimum to communicate the idea. A single word or two might be understood, but since I can't grasp any more than two consecutive words of gag speech from her, I doubt she can do any better. It takes a moment of gesturing, but she gets it and begins pulling on her gag straps. She grimaces after the first couple of pulls, so hopefully her straps will be stretching too.

I don't know how long we've walked, but it seems like hours and we're nowhere closer to the campsite or car. We haven't come across the mine entrance, so we're not going in circles. Sheree mumbles something I interpret to be 'stop', since she moves toward a tree in a small clearing and eases herself down to the ground. She leans back against the tree, then reaches for her ankles while she wipes away the drool that begins running down her chin. When our heads are upright, there is just the annoying trickle, but as we look down, it flows. She massages her ankles, and repositions her socks to give her as much relief as possible from the weighted pressure of the manacles.

When I pulled on Damon's boots, I forced them under the manacles in order to lace them enough to stay on my feet. As a result, the manacles are very snug around each ankle. I feel the tightness with every step. I'm almost deciding barefoot would be better, since in addition to the discomfort of the manacle around the boot, the boots are too small. They are tight and uncomfortable. I sit down beside Sheree as I ponder the pain and problems presented by each option.

After she finishes trying to make her ankles less uncomfortable, she pulls the pint of vodka she grabbed from Damon and Kitty's freezer from the pocket of her hoodie. I know where this is heading, and I begin taking the boots off.

The woods have been growing darker as the afternoon sun begins to go down. The surrounding trees and underbrush block out whatever direct sunlight remains and shade begins encroaching. I don't want to walk in the woods when it's dark. It's inviting a fall, being shackled as we are, unable to see what lies ahead of us. But I also don't want to spend the night in the dark woods, in this shackled, vulnerable position. I have no idea what predators might be out here. I do know it will be impossible for us to run away from any creature who might perceive us as prey.

Without any ready solution as to what would be best for us, I decide to forget all of this - for the moment - and accept the vodka bottle Sheree is handing me. I take a taste, and the fiery, warmth it suddenly ignites numbs me and energizes me at the same time. The numbness I appreciate, the energizing is an unknown quantity. I hand the bottle back and Sheree carefully pours a small splash into the back of her throat. She closes her eyes as her head slightly shakes from side to side, then passes it back to me. I realize that drinking straight liquor on an empty stomach is not wise, but our water bottle is empty and we are thirsty. I retrieve one of the beers I took as we were leaving the mineshaft hideaway that I'd somehow kept in the deep pocket of my hoodie, and open it. Beer has more nutrients than liquor - or so I think - and won't get us as wasted as we're headed. I present the can to Sheree and make hand gestures for her to put the vodka away and try the beer, but she takes another drink of the vodka. I pour some of the warm beer down the back of my throat, and hope the nutritional value is better than the taste.

After another drink, Sheree puts the bottle down and leans toward me. She reaches behind my head and pulls my face close to hers. Her tongue finds it way into my mouth as our gagged faces come together. The alcohol was purely for the numbing effect on our physical pains, not to release inhibitions. We don't need that. We need each other. And here we are.

We roll into each other, ignoring the discomfort of the hard ground beneath us and our ankle chains entangling each other's feet and the commingling of the drool released from our gags. These are the sloppiest, open-mouthed kisses imaginable. But we don't care. We need this after what we've been through. We need each other right now and we aren't letting any restraints stand in our way.

Our hands move over the other's body as our open mouths stay pressed together with our tongues intertwined. Our lips can't move, forced so wide apart by the hard rubber rings wedged behind our front teeth, so our tongues are all we have free. They are now infused with the sensuality the other parts of our mouths are being denied.

Our shackles present the problem of not being able to spread our legs far enough apart for one of us to move on top of the other. My boxers are another problem, since I can't remove them from my legs, being trapped by my shackles. And I don't need another impediment at my ankles preventing my legs from separating as they need to, right now.

We both realize the problem - our lack of ability to verbally communicate has made us more in tune with the other's thought processing - and we work it out silently. Sheree begins unentangling her leg chain, rolling on her back and lifting her legs while moving them over mine. I move face down over her, with her legs spread above mine. I can feel her ankle chain on the back of my calf. I slide my shorts down just far enough to free my aroused penis and insert it in her vagina.

We both begin moaning softly through our gags as we move together. My hands take turns fondling her breasts while hers lightly touch the base of my penis as it moves in and out of her. Our tongues separate and they work their way across each other's face, spreading the drool on our chins from one to the other. Her leg chains somehow become entangled with my foot, but we don't care. We need this.

We reach climax several minutes later, and then I realize I'm drooling on her and with embarrassment, I roll off of her. The immediate blissful moments after sex always take me to a place from which I don't want to return. But here, our reality resurfaces quickly. It is dark now. I don't want to spend the night in the woods but I don't want to keep walking in shackles through the dark woods - lost and without a clue where we're going.

After another small sip of warm beer, and a drop of vodka for Sheree, I hear the faint sound of a car engine! And it grows louder. A road - hopefully the one where our car is parked - must not be far from here. And then, through a break in the undergrowth, scrubs and brush directly in front of me I see a flicker of headlights! And then they're gone.

Now, a plan reveals itself. We can get to that road - it doesn't appear that far away. It's just through thick undergrowth, unseeable obstacles, and hidden by the dark woods around us. But getting to the road - where we can walk safely in the dark - is better than staying in these woods throughout the night. And the road could either lead us to my car, or to get help from some passing car.

If I abandon the uncomfortably tight boots and walk barefoot, I can use my toes to feel for any obstacles that might trip us. If I encounter any, I can then clear the path, so we can proceed on to the road. Getting lost will be easy in the dark. We have to move straight ahead. It will be slow, but there's no other option. Sheree can follow behind me, as I lead the way. Now I just have to get her to understand. I know she heard the car, so she may already be thinking along with me. I'm sure she doesn't want to stay in the woods overnight.

My eyes become accustomed to the dark, and I can see Sheree, being right next to her, but everything beyond her is in the shadows. I grab her hand and pull it slightly and motion with my other hand toward the road and then I stand. She hesitates a moment and then slowly rises. I point with my index finger toward the road, and motion with my fingers to come on. Her head nods.

"Aye ehine me", I say, with no clue as to whether she understands me as I tell her to stay behind me. I hope she does. I turn in the direction of the road while reaching behind me for her hand. We begin moving forward slowly. My other hand moves back and forth in front of me pushing low hanging branches aside and my feet move from side to side, before each forward step, searching for anything that may cause us to trip. My toes feel the occasional large branch, which I'm able to kick out of the way. I do miss the occasional obstacle, and realize it immediately when my ankle chain gets caught. I reach down to free myself if I can't wiggle the chain out of whatever snagged it, and then move onward. But I have to make sure Sheree doesn't encounter the same impediment as she follows me.

We haven't fallen yet and we've followed the path that I set us out on. So far, things are proceeding as I hoped. The underbrush hasn't presented too much of a problem to steer through and the ground has been fairly free of obstacles. I think I see the moon rising between the trees ahead, so when we get to the road, we should be walking in moonlight with no obstacles to trip us. We just have to get there.

But with my next step, I feel the ground become mushy. It becomes more so as I stumble ahead until my feet are splashing through muddy water. This is not good. I have no idea what we are about to go through. I hear a gagged moan behind me and I know Sheree doesn't like this any better than I do. My feet are now sinking into the ground with each step. I impulsively proceed, and my feet sink deeper while Sheree complains louder. I have no way to feel for obstructions with my feet in the mud and muck. But the road has got to be just ahead! We can't turn back. So far, my leg chain hasn't become entangled with anything. I hold her hand tighter and we move on slowly. Sheree is groaning with obvious discomfort and frustration. But she hasn't let go of my hand. I think that means she realizes she's just going to have to follow me, if we want to get out of these woods.

The low hanging limbs and high underbrush aren't as much of a problem in the marsh - if that's what this is - and I take the opportunity to lower my outstretched arm and hand to wipe the drool away from my chin. But once I move my hand, a branch hits me in the face. I pause to push it out of the way for Sheree, and when I take another step, I don't feel water beneath my feet. I am walking again on solid ground. The underbrush appears to be clearing ahead of me and I see fewer tall trees surrounding us. The moon is clearly visible overhead, no longer blocked by trees and the darkness of the night becomes a shade lighter. And then I step out of the woods onto the side of the road! We did it! But where we are, I have no idea.

The road is paved, but with no striped line and of course no street lights. I turn and see Sheree limping toward me. She nearly collapses, overcome with grateful relief that we found the road, but she appears worn from our night walk through the woods. She lost her socks somewhere in the muck we had to cross. Her feet are covered in mud and given the welts on her soles, I don't think that's a good thing. Will this get them infected? I have no idea what to do. She plops down by the side of the road and rubs her ankles, then begins swiping the mud off of her feet with her hands. Then she wipes her hands on the grass. Once her feet are reasonably free of caked mud, she catches some drool running down her chin and wipes it on the soles of her feet. It's the best she can do to clean them. She stands and hobbles her way to me and hugs me. We stand in the road together holding each other, barefoot, shackled and gagged. I think of the words that kept me from giving up while chained to the wall in the mine: we will get out of this. And we are now far closer than before to getting out of this.

But which way do we go? I decide one direction is as good as the other when you're hopelessly lost, so I take Sheree's hand and we proceed in what I believe to be back the way we came - but on the road, not through the woods. I'm taking a hunch that the cameras that surveilled us at the campsite have a limited range, and so the mine hideaway must be relatively close. Which means the car would be in that direction. The road appears to be the same as the one we traversed to get to the campsite, and the one upon which we parked my car. So, that's my plan and we begin to shuffle down the road.

We walk slowly side by side, dragging our leg chains, holding on to each other - down the road to wherever. We are both covered in scratches after having struggled through the woods. We're dirty, muddy and barely clothed, wearing only the hoodies that we grabbed on the way out of the mine. If we encounter a car on this road, will they stop for us? Given our appearances, we could be escapees from a mental hospital for the criminally insane, for all they'd know. But our choices are few. We've got to find my car or get someone to stop and help us, that's all I know.

Walking barefoot in shackles, without the boots I abandoned, becomes more and more painful. The iron manacles dig into my bare ankles with each step. Sheree's socks provided a minimum of relief from the weight on her ankles, but she lost those in the mud. So, we both feel the bite of the shackles with each step. And Sheree's beaten soles no longer have whatever comforting cushioning her socks provided. I keep my arm draped over her shoulders to support her and we have no choice but to struggle on.

I paid scant attention to the road upon which I drove making our way to the campsite. It was in the middle of nowhere - that cliché has never felt more appropriate - but I think this is that road. We won't know until we see the car, but I'm feeling cautiously optimistic.

Our progress is slow, we pause often to readjust the manacles to relieve the pressure on our ankles. I'm still stretching the straps on my gag. That did make the chin strap feel less tight. Now I'm trying to loosen the straps securing the metal ring over my nose in place. It's not as painful as the chin strap, but extremely uncomfortable. But it connects three other straps. Trying to stretch it increases the pressure from all of those straps, which eventually causes too much discomfort and I give up. I notice Sheree trying to adjust her metal ring, and know it has to be a source of torment for her too.