Fort Knox

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As if on cue, Jennifer watched from the shadows of the forest as the giant fortress began to cloak itself in darkness. Once a day the world lost its color and transformed itself into black and white, at least until the sun completely set and only blackness prevailed. Here in the shadow of Fort Knox, that magical moment lingered, the sky becoming a cold gray, the giant granite mass of the fort becoming as black as Lucifer’s pocket. As it did, Jennifer felt a tinge of excitement, a mixture of sexual thrill and fear that spurned her into action.

It was almost ironic, she thought as adrenaline forced her to dart across the fort’s outer lawn, past rows of picnic tables and barbecue pits to the staircase that lead down into the moat, that a fort that was designed to be impenetrable, could be so easily accessed by a single woman a hundred and seventy five years later. There had been a wait of course. Jennifer had watched the Park Ranger’s make a final patrol of the grounds a half hour before, then lock the visitor’s center and then leave for the night. Now Jennifer had the fort to herself, and paused at the bottom of the moat to unshoulder the backpack she had been carrying and retrieve a flashlight.

Even during the day the fort’s tight granite and brick passageway’s had a cold, ominous feel to them. At night, the eerie presence was only magnified, and it both excited and scared Jennifer in a strange mixture of emotions. Stabbing the darkness with her flashlight, she found her way into a cannon battery. Setting the flashlight down onto an old cannon carriage, she opened up her backpack, and began to strip.

Like the fort itself, which had been transformed from a modern day park by day, to its former garrison at night, Jennifer was quick to pull off the clothing that gave her the look of a tourist. White canvas sneakers, matching white slouch socks and her pink and white sundress were quickly removed and shoved into her backpack. Her white bra and panties came next, though she felt completely vulnerable for the short while she was nude.

Seating herself on the cold wrought iron cannon carriage made her bottom cold, but she held out as she began to thread a pair of black silk stockings over her legs, pointing her toes keenly and taking her time as to not spoil the expensive and fragile leggings. To further protect them, Jennifer then slid her feet into a pair of high heels fearing the rough texture of the brick paving blocks that served as a floor would shred the material under her feet. Only then did she stand and begin to put on her vintage corset.

It was a tight fitting number, her husband purposely purchasing it a size to small so that she would have to squeeze her already small frame into the restrictive material. Teetering on her high heels, it was all she could do to pull the satin material up her legs, over her hips and then tuck her breasts into position into the formed holders that would cuddle them for the next few hours.

In contrast, her petticoat was much easier to put on. It was much less restrictive, but still required some balancing skills as Jennifer fought to maintain her steadiness on the uneven floor. When she was through however, she liked how she looked in the vintage dress. Like that of the fort, she looked as if she had stepped back in time, to a simpler age where woman dressed solely for the benefit of men, and true to form, had to surrender to their beck and call. Jennifer smiled at the latter thought, for somewhere in the forts labyrinth of alleyways, batteries and musket ports, her husband lay in wait.

Jennifer was impressed when her husband first presented the notion of spending the night inside the fort, and grew even more aroused with the purchase of the vintage dress and the previous surveys inside the fort. It was an elaborate plan after all, comprised of trespassing, bondage and role playing. Now dressed for the part, she left her backpack behind and began to walk cautiously through the fort, not knowing where or when her husband would emerge.

Jennifer’s heart was beating fast as she made her way up through battery B and into the main part of the fort. Several times going up the long stairwell she fought the urge she pull the high heels off her feet. The brick pavers and irregular granite steps made walking in them treacherous and slow. The echo of her footfalls also reverberated in the long, isolated and dark passageways. She was sure her husband was not far at hand, perhaps tracking her by the sound of her stiletto heels on granite and brick, and if he was within ten feet at all, also the sound of her beating heart.

She was also damp about her sex. Never in her life had she been so aroused. From the moment she had stepped out of her car, she had been moist with lust. Now that feeling grew with the intensity that this fort provided. In the past their foray into role playing had been mild, consisting of vintage dress up and light bondage. This spectacle involved an entire fort, acres of bomonti escort cold granite and brick, and twelve hours in which to enjoy it.

“You bastard,” Jennifer mumbled into the darkness. She had hoped her husband would have presented himself early to her so that she would not have to be alone for quite so long, but it quickly became apparent however that he had every intention of making her walk every foot of the vast fort. Already she had skirted the parameter of the courtyard, walked through the main cannon battery and had treaded up through the dirt floors of the enlisted men’s quarters; all without seeing signs of her husband.

Sitting down on a block of granite inside the North wall of three block alley, Jennifer stooped down to tighten the tiny buckle around her ankle. She was thankful she had enough experience in high heels to know that she needed those tiny straps around her ankles to keep her from walking out of her shoes. As she finished loosening both of them so she could use her hands to rub her aching feet, she felt a gentle breeze blow through the portal and also through the thin fabric of her silk stockings. She continued to rub the bottom of her silk-covered arches with vigor. Thinking desperately as she did so, she tried to reason where her husband would meet her.

Battery A and B were not likely because they were outside the fort and would lack the ambiance they both were after. The food storage chambers and officers quarters were non-descript, while the courtyard and upper mizzen lacked anything but grass and view across the river. As her mind fought to remember the entire layout of the fort, she began to smile. Knowing her husband’s devious mind, the brig remained the most likely place for a rendezvous. Picking herself up off the granite blocks, she slipped her feet back into her high heels and encircled her shoes tiny strap about her ankles and cinched them up tight with the buckle. As she did, a hint of moonlight came through the musket portal and glinted off her stainless steel buckle.

With renewed energy, Jennifer’s echoing footfalls landed one upon the other down the long alleyway. She watched her footing carefully down two step alley and emerged at the entrance to Battery A. There was a small walk outside from the main entrance of the fort to the stairwell, and Jennifer enjoyed the view of Bucksport lit up nicely across the river, her high heels scuffing gravel as she fought back the urge to run. She was outside after all, and cars were crossing over the Verona Island bridge even as Maine was about to switch over to another day. Still she was confident she was masked by the darkness; her black outfit only adding to her camouflage.

The brig was only a short walk away and down over a set of steep stairs and tucked inside the confines of a granite and brick structure completely buried and isolated from the rest of the fort. Just outside lay the hot shot furnace, a brick oven used to heat cannonballs to a red hot temperature so they could be lobbed at wooden ships with ferocious impact.

Jennifer skirted past this oven, her stiletto heels sinking deeply into the soft mowed lawn before reaching the granite, brick and earthen structure that was solely designed to detain. Taking in a deep breath, she stepped through an opened wooden door, so thick it was a wonder it had ever swung upon its hinges.

An eerie sound awaited her as her footfalls echoed, then echoed again and again into the tight passageways that were meant to inflict fear and foreboding into anyone who entered. Jennifer could scarcely breathe as her petticoat swept the bricked floor, her bottom ruffles turning a light brown from the dust. Ignoring this fact, she began to search out her husband in the tight confines, convinced he would be here.

Instead she found nothing but empty cells, until she came to the last one. Inside she found a bright neon green sticky note that had caught the bam of her flashlight. Stepping closer she read her husband’s unmistakable small handwriting.

Jennifer my dear,

Marriage is about love, trust and patience. So is bondage. Remove your petticoat and put yourself in irons, just as pirates, damsels and lovers would have done in years past.

Love Scott

Jennifer read the note with mixed emotions. Shining her light upon the room, she could see where her husband had attached chains to the rusty wrought iron hooks already driven into the brick walls of the cell. At the end of the chains were shackles opened and ready for Jennifer’s wrists and ankles. Carefully positioning her flashlight so that it cast its beam of light upward, and lit the small room as well as it could, Jennifer began to pull the petticoat from off her torso. Wearing only the tight black corset, silk stockings and high heels, Jennifer applied the shackles about her ankles first, then used her right hand to help shackle her left wrist to the wall. Her right wrist was a bit more difficult, cihangir escort but by setting her wrist inside the shackle, and by pressing it hard against the wall, she heard the handcuff snap shut effectively pinning all four of her limbs to the brick wall.

Jennifer had not felt so vulnerable in her entire life. The architect of the brig from a century before had strategically positioned the eyebolts so it would stretch a mans limbs to their outer limits. Jennifer was poised no different, and in fact being a woman, she was stretched tighter, her legs drawn down and to both sides so much that her muscles inside her thighs were beginning to cramp. Her arms were no better since they were stretched in much the same manner; high overhead and off to the sides. This left her spread X fashion along the wall.

Already she could feel the coolness of the brick beginning to chill her skin where her bare shoulders, bare bottom and barely protected silk covered legs pressed against the rough textured brick. With her body now motionless, she could hear far better and strained to hear the footsteps of her husband approach. The report of his steps never reached her ears however, just the sound of her own breaths as she perched precariously on her high heels.

Every five minutes she fought the urge to yell out his name. Only her knowledge that this was part of the game prevented her from doing so. He had clearly stated in his note that bondage and marriage both included patience and trust. She had both for the man she so deeply loved; for the man that could provide for her like no other. Even now he was providing for her, a fantasy that only he could make come true.

Suddenly in the dim light of the flashlight she saw movement. Looking through the many shadows she watched as a rat scurried out through a hole in the far brick wall. It was only the size of a quarter, and yet it pressed its body like a contortionist and began to dart back and forth across the bricked floor. Jennifer writhed in her bonds at the sight of the rodent, but they allowed only a meager amount of movement. Sucking in a breath to keep from yelling, Jennifer watched in horror as it scampered closer to her. Finally it ran along the top of her right shoe. With total fear, she kicked as best she could, the bonds only allowing a slight movement, but it was enough to send the rat running across the floor. It its haste, and with its poor eyesight, it ran into the flashlight held upright along the wall. With a loud clatter it fell down, and in the fall, jarred something inside. In a split second Jennifer found herself bound to the wall in complete darkness.

Plummeted into complete darkness, Jennifer’s other senses came into sharper focus. For the blind, this is an example of the human bodies amazing ability to compensate for loss. For Jennifer, it only instilled more fear. She thought she could hear the sound of the rat returning. Her mind raced knowing a rat could bite; it could spread disease and had killed many human beings.

Instead of disaster, her husband appeared, having the foresight to bring in several tikki torches to bring the bondage chamber into bright, authentic light. Jennifer swooned at the sight of the man she loved and as all their bondage sessions began, waited until she was spoken too.

“I am impressed honey. You walked around this entire fort clad in your vintage dress and high heels. You did not even take them off once as I thought you would do.”

“You must have been following me then?”

“Of course. In fact I thought for sure I was going to get a spectacle when you stopped in three block alley for a rest. Instead you only took off you heels and massaged your feet.”

“What were you expecting,” she asked looking more alluring to him then ever as she stood sprawled along the wall?

“Knowing as turned on as you were, I expected a little self gratification at least.”

‘If I known you were going to leave me alone for so long I probably would have. I have never been so turned on in all my life.”

“Me neither, but that will have to wait.”

“Scott”, she pleaded at the indignation of having to wait some more for what she had already waited so long for.

“We have more pressing issues Jennifer. You know as well as I do that no person that has ever been bound inside this brig has ever been released without some form of punishment.”

Scott watched in amazement as his wife formed a lewd smile across her face at the sound of punishment from her husband. He had never once struck her in anger, but in the heat of passion, in the realm of role-playing, his punishment brought her to the most intense orgasms.

“Yes sir,” she cooed softly.

“And how old are you Jennifer?”

“Fifty two”, she announced, lying entirely for it was actually twice her real age.

She did so for a reason however, since this was a well rehearsed game. The friendly banter allowed Scott to inquire kurtuluş escort just how much punishment she could handle. Most times she kept to her true age, twenty six being just about right for the number of spanks and lashings she could handle. Today however, she was stimulated beyond belief. She was sure that with the intensity of their surroundings, she could easily handle twice the usual count.

“Fifty two lashings it shall be Jennifer.”

With a disturbing grin, Jennifer’s husband walked over to her with an uneasy gait and reached out to grasp her corset. Jennifer looked down in time to see his hands grip the delicate material and watched it rip to shreds in his skilful hands. Hanging by her wrists, she had no way to hide the shame of being made all but nude in the semi-public setting. Now only her garter stocking and high heels remained for clothing as she hung limply from the wall.

“Not bad, Jennifer,” he said with a grin as his hands palmed her fleshy globes and then flicked at the nipples with the tip of his finger. She writhed in her bonds to move away from his invading hands, but he only gripped them with more firmness. Kneading them like dough, he dipped his head only to capture Jennifer’s left nipple in his mouth and sucked at the nipple for far too long.

“Please honey, just enjoy me. Enjoy this charade.”

“This charade,” he asked, placing his hands on the waistband of her pantylettes, then whisked them away as the dainty fabric easily tore from around her waist. A quiet dread overtook Jennifer as her cheeks flushed red out of embarrassment, and from having her husband having his first unobstructed view of her freshly shaven sex.

“That’s a surprise,” he said at the sight of Jennifer’s smooth vagina, as Jennifer felt powerless as his hand reached out to touch the visible lips and folds. As his hand continued to explore, Jennifer let out a little shriek at the feeling of having his hands run over her bald mound.

“I thought I would surprise you.”

“I like it, but on my end, there’s more to come,” he said as if reciting a pun from a cheap pornographic magazine. He grinned at his own joke as he worked his finger into her. She squirmed under the invasion, but knew having his fingers inside her was deeply erotic, even as he adding a second finger. Jennifer accepted both, and in turn, her fate as well.

“Have you ever tasted yourself,” he asked, withdrawing his fingers from within her and bringing them close to her sweet mouth? Mere inches from her nose and touching the lips, Jennifer could smell the fragrance of her sex and felt the sticky fluid on her lips. She tossed my head away in mock defiance, but knew such action was going to be short lived knowing her husband’s resolve far to well.

He grabbed her chin, his fingernails digging into her skin and forced Jennifer to face him. A moment later he smeared her lips with her vaginal fluids, pressing his fingers roughly over her lips in indignation. Wanting to appease the man, she opened her mouth and sucked the fluid from his fingers with vigor.

“Whore,” he said, just to add to my degradation.

Jennifer had never tasted herself in such a way before, but she did not give him that impression as she savored the strong flavor and lapped the sticky fluid. Getting past the strong smell, Jennifer found that she was not repulsed by the act. She even found the flavor to be sweet and tasteful which explained why he had enjoyed giving her head. Now her husband’s intentions were not so amicable however as his hands withdrew from her mouth and picked up a cat-of-nine tails the two of them had picked out during a shopping spree at a lace and leather shop.

“Turn around Jennifer.”

It was only a simple twist, but it was with trepidation and fortitude that she spun around for her husband, twisting in her bonds so that her back, bottom and thighs were fodder for his whip.

“By the looks of your cute little bottom here, I would bet your father never spanked you growing up, did he” he asked as he ran his hand along her ass cheeks? As she rattled in her shackles, the whip struck; all nine of its leather tentacles making a whizzing sound as they flew through the air and then collided onto her bare right ass cheek. She screamed in pain as each leather strip cut into her flash with a slap and a sting. It was only one lash, and yet she could feel where all nine had seared her skin from the friction of leather on flesh.

Jennifer writhed in her bonds, but her darting body still made an easy target as another zinging sound whistling through the air. Before she had time to prepare herself for a second lashing, it landed, but this time on her other ass cheek, and with just as much savagery. Three more landed in quick succession, leaving her bottom raw and crisscrossed with dozens of thin red welts before he spoke to his wife.

“You know I like you in those stockings and high heels Jennifer,” he said, now using the whip more erotically than maliciously, as he trailed the ends just above the wide bands of her black seemed stockings? “Those little lines are like arrows and show me just where to land this whip,” he said and then drew back and unfurled the whip. She heard the report, and then felt the searing pain of leather against skin once again.

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