#outdoo

Outdoorbondage is an intense sign of ownership.

We walk past the last houses, turn off the trodden path and my owner gently turns me round, secures my arms behind. I kneel down. Shoes and socks are taken and my bare feet shackled.

Sometimes and arm around my shoulders, sometimes my owner leads me by a leash to my collar.

We come to an old fallen tree. My owner unlocks a shackle and then ties up my foot. "See you later, love!" And moments later I am alone. I am locked in place, like a precocious toy. If a human being came along, I could do nothing but stand obediently in my place. At home I am usually secured. My hands in mittens or my arms locked away, my mouth spread or gagged, my feet shackled and chained. But outside, in public my enslavement feels much more intense. I am a slave for everyone to see.

I present my bare sole. I know that my owner will be back later with a fresh and subtle cane. I will kiss the cane before my sole is whipped crimson.

I wait. Safe. Secure. A thing locked into its place. I am a slave.