Ever heard the term "I'm cooked?"  I had, it usually had to do with another software designer understanding that he'd never get through four thousand lines of code looking for a mistake before a deadline.  Now we have AI and it searches much faster so that utterance is much a thing of the past.  

In any case we weren't cooked yet...

But the literal meaning hit us both and I heard Slave S start to moan through his/her gag.  S is a man, but when we met, he wore a wig, stockings, short skirt and was one of most gorgeous "girls" I'd ever seen. Thus, I will refer to her as a "her" for the purposes of clarity. I moaned back through the large ball tightly wedged in my mouth and secured by the leather strap, but of course the rope tied around both of our necks and up to a hook in a ceiling beam of the old barn limited the opportunity to do much more. 

The worst of it is, we put ourselves in this predicament. 

I'd selected the old barn, at least ten miles of a dirt road from the nearest highway and there was no one within earshot. We were tied tightly together with the bright white rope I'd brought with me.  I go as Slave M.  So, we are M and S, or better, S & M, because that is what we both practiced with each other, and it suggests the type of play we craved and enjoyed for the last six months. This time it had been my pick.  We had tied ourselves back to back.  We were both naked, and glued to one another by the heavy rope; ankles, knees, elbows and a waist cinch rope cramming our asses together.  Of course there were the aforementioned neck nooses. The problem was that that hook in the ceiling wasn't about to give, and if we somehow slipped off of the short plastic stool, becoming increasingly slippery from the sweat and oil smeared all over our naked bodies, the rope around our necks, pulled up by another cord between our heads, would effectively hang us both. In addition there were a pair of nipple clamps.  My right nipple was connected around my body, to S's left, and her left nipple to my right. S's wrists had been bound around to the front of my body and struggled now just an inch above my throbbing cock. My wrists were in a similar position fasted in front of S's body inches from her cock.  We had just adjusted enough so that we could stroke one another, but even the small motion of trying to get off caused pain from the clamps. And of course, the stool, while only about fifteen inches high, was high enough. If either of us slipped off from our struggles, he'd pull the other with him and we'd hang for the brief time it took to pass out and choke out. 

We were both building up to a climax when the lightning bolt hit, - yes, actually hit the barn!  It startled us-- and the surprise and my flinch sent the hoist buttons, tucked under my arm in a low swing away from us, where neither of us now could reach.  This had been self-bondage up until now, and the plan had been for me to trigger the hoist and allow us both the slack to slip back down to the floor. 

That plan was obsolete now.  We were trapped on the small stool. 

In addition to that, the bolt had hit the side of the barn, go figure.  A small bit of flame erupted.  The barn itself was wood.  There were hale bales and hay all over the place. It didn't take either of us more than an instant to understand out plight...  We weren't cooked, but we were going to be.  That or slip off early and choke out.

I heard a moan of worry from S and I wanted to offer something positive, but my mouth was gagged too. I saw the swinging hoist switch, and felt the terror at our predicament, and I thought back to that swinging light bulb in the club where the two of us first met...

Las Vegas has dozens of S&M clubs.  

One is called the Chateau. Its on Fremont street in "old" Las Vegas, just fifty yards east of the Nugget. It's a gay bar by day and most nights, but on the third Thursday of every month, the basement floor becomes a bondage club of sorts.  Down in that basement, opposite the glory holes, which are first come first serve, are four sets of apparatus.  The central structure allows for full suspension and for the Thursday night crowd, a huge cart is rolled in with all kinds of equipment including ropes, leather straps, whips, chains, gags-- all cleaned and ready for use.  There will usually be one kind of demonstration or another, with some pro Dom showing off his or her subs.  

What attracted me the night I first laid eyes on Slave S were the self-bondage frames.  Here, if you wanted to expose yourself, knowing that once bound, gagged and secured to a frame, anything anyone in the place wanted to do to you, well, it was your choice, your body.  If one was whipped to a pulp, he or she put themselves in that position.  I had visited twice, and dreamed of finding the courage to be one of the volunteers willingly placed into the leather straps that pulled a participant's wrists up overhead until he or she was barely able to touch the floor on tip toes. The idea both terrorized me and created a shivering feeling of want. The rule was you had to stay for a half hour, after which another willing participant could take your place.  The caveat was that, if you chose to allow yourself to be bound in that frame, you wouldn't be released until the thirty minutes expired.  One never knew what might happen as there were no rules, and as soon as one was gagged, again, personal choice.  I saw, the first night, mostly groping and some nipple play, but on another night, there was this one creepy guy, at least six five and over three hundred pounds, who grabbed a whip and went after this sub without mercy to the cries behind the gag.  That was frightening, I mean, he really ripped that guy up.  Yet, I was drawn to it like a moth to flame, and on this night, the first night I saw S, I stripped naked, and allowed one of the club employees bind my hands over my head and push a gag into my mouth, fastening it behind my neck.  My head was down as he did this, and as I looked up, I saw S for the first time.  I knew she was a he but as I said, she was hot, especially now, bound in the same manner, not fifteen feet away in the other "volunteer" frame.  She was stripped to a mini-skirt and her legs were beautiful.  The skirt was cut so high and tight, she had to be wearing a cock harness. There were a few lash marks across her creamy white skin, and she'd drooped in her bonds, wearing the look of a sub in the depths of pain, craving and yearning, for more. I was hard as a rock, and I could only imagine what her cock must be like crushed into the tiny frame of a harness.

All at once, she raised her eyes and looked right into mine, and I saw a kindred spirit, drawn as I was to the depths of sub-space only experienced by those who dream of being controlled by another.  My half hour passed in a bliss of slaps, gropes, and touches; one guy spent about thirty seconds palm slapping my cock.  It only stayed harder than before, and as one guy brought a paddle to my exposed ass, I shut my eyes, feeling every stroke, and understanding that the need for such treatment was a part of me. 

S was released first, and donned a women's sports bra, leaving her skirt waving as she waltzed to the bar.  Ten minutes later, after pulling on a t-shirt and my abandoned shorts, I stepped up to the bar beside her.  S was sipping some kind of a vodka drink and I ordered a beer.  We both knew already that we'd locked eyes while allowing control to strangers.  So in a sense, we knew one another.  I wasn't certain exactly what to say, I just knew that I was drawn to her need, I understood and wanted it too.  It didn't hurt that she looked so fucking fantastic in that sports bra and mini skirt.  I was too shy, but S finally sucked down the entirety of her drink and turned towards me.

"You have a great body," she said. "How are you doing?"

I thought for a moment, both of us were pretty amped from the experience. "I might not understand why I'm here.  But I constantly crave it."

"Likewise," she said. "It's a little scary, but I loved being looked at and being touched without my consent."

"Me too, even when that guy was paddling me," I said.

"I know what you're thinking," S said.

"What am I thinking?" I asked.

"I see you trying to see what's just beneath my skirt." S smiled.  "Here, have a look." She lifted it briefly and I saw the black cock harness.  She was nearly bulging out of it, but it did keep the illusion alive.

She then reached inside her top, and pulled out a small key.

"Do you want to see more? S asked coyly.

"What is it?" I asked.

"It'll unlock it."  She gestured to her skirt.  "Go on, I saw yours, you should see mine."

I looked around, there were new wannabes at the volunteer frames and the larger dungeon like apparatus was occupied by a female dominant and two slaves.  Most of the eyes were elsewhere.  I reached for S's skirt and pushed it up over her hips.  My had was shaking as I pushed the key into the little slot, turned it and pulled the metal form away. Her cock nearly blew out of its constraint.

"Careful now," she said playfully.  "Listen, I got a feeling about us.  I think we could have a lot of fun together," S spread her legs across the bar stool, allowing her cock to dangle over the front edge.

I think... I'd like that," I said. "I think--" I started, reaching for her cock.

"Hey you two, what's up?"

It was a larger guy, wearing a leather vest and jeans and smiling amiably.  "I saw you guys bound in the framework. Beautiful.  Really the both of you. I could tell you liked it."

S smiled, closed her legs.  I felt a thrill, but just nodded.

"You two wanna have some real fun?" He said.  He pushed out hand as if to shake. "My name's Randy. I don't bite."

I took his hand. "I go by Slave M," I said.  "S," S said.  "Just two slaves I guess."

"Follow me, I think you'll like this," Randy said.  I shot a look at S.  She shrugged and smiled as if to say, "Well, I guess that's why we came here."

I stood.  Randy was at least four inches taller and really built. I suppressed a shiver wondering what it would be like to give up control to someone like him. It was a public place, what could happen?  

So we followed him, S and myself, across the bar past where the Fem Dom was really punching the ass of one of her slaves with a huge dildo. We passed the glory holes and started for a door near the rear of the bar. I looked again at S, who pushed forward.

"Here," Randy said.  "Turn around."  He pulled out two sets of handcuffs. He grabbed my wrist and slapped one cuff on it, then expertly pulled the next. Okay, I thought, so this is, I guess, okay. "You next sweetie," Randy smiled. S smiled back but I could see just a hint of unease in it.  Now most people might agree that this might not have been such a good idea given that we'd just met the guy, but we'd also both been tied and exhibited for thirty minutes just moments before.  It was a bondage club after all.  It was playing out fantasies. S was with me. She turned and allowed him to bind her wrists behind her back. I heard the little "click" as she was secured.

Randy smiled again, then waved a hand. "Hey, Joel, these two are ripe."  Two guys, as large as Randy stood up from a table near that door and approached.  One of them lifted S's skirt to admire her ass.  The other one approached me.  He had some scissors, and in a moment, he'd slit my shorts from my body.

"What'd I tell you?" Randy chuckled as he saw my rock hard cock. "And look at this one," he lifted S's skirt.  Her cock was just as hard.

Randy pulled open the door and the other two pushed S and myself through.  It wasn't another room.  I was short hallway with an door at the end with a sign on it that read "exit." I hesitated as the door slammed behind us.

"Open up," Randy said.

"Listen... maybe we..." I started.

"Aw come on, it's play.  Open your mouth.  You too sweet pie," he looked at S.

What could we do?  I opened my mouth and Randy came close, as if he were inspecting my teeth.  Then one of the guys behind pushed a wad of cloth inside before I even had a chance to speak. He quickly wrapped layers of packing tape around my head until the cloth was secure.  This wasn't like a gag, where you could still utter small noises and still breathe around it. This gag absolutely cut off any chance to speak or yell.  My wide eyes shot a look at S and I saw that they'd secured her mouth as well.

This was starting to be scary. Both S and myself were handcuffed and incapable of making any sound, other than the excited breathing through our noses. We didn't know any of these guys and Randy's gamey smile faded.

We were both pushed towards the door at the end of the hall marked "exit."  Had anyone seen us?  Sure they had, when we'd allowed ourselves to be bound and gagged in the playroom.  There was enough going on back there that I wondered if anyone even noticed us leaving.

The guy named Joel pushed open the door to reveal a panel van.  Parked. Rear doors opened.  It was empty except for a meaty metal ring welded to the floor with two links of chain attached.

I tried to mumble, but the both of us were unceremoniously pushed into the van, forced to the floor as the Randy wrapped the left chain around my neck, and the right one around S's. He secured us both with, ironically, a pair of Master padlocks.

Lying side by side, S and I exchanged frightened glances as I felt my ankles being pulled tightly together with rope. S's skirt had flown up and her ass was milky white in the dim light.  Her ankles were bound as well. We could hardly move as the chain kept our necks glued to the metal floor of the van. Handcuffed and helpless.  Now I knew for certain that nobody had seen us leave, and it probably wouldn't have mattered if they had.

Randy gave a hoot and climbed behind the wheel.  Joel slammed the rear doors.  My cock was still hard, and pressed uncomfortably against the van's metal floor.  S and I, lying side by side could only stare at one another with looks of absolute fright. 

The other two men climbed in up front, and the van started off.