Gromet's PlazaTG/CD Stories

Hell Ride

by Cynthia Trusscot

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© Copyright 2010 - Cynthia Trusscot - Used by permission

Storycodes: F/m; M/m; bond; cd; fem; bfold; outdoors; hum; caught; cons; X

My partner and I were laughing about some of the silly things that happened during our college years, and somehow the subject of “Hell Rides” came up.  She had gone to school in central Michigan, where rides to Hell could actually take place, but that wasn’t what she meant.

“Some of my friends once took this girl out away from the campus and dumped her.  She had to walk home in the dark!  It was hilarious!”

I didn’t think it was so funny, but then I thought again.  “How ‘bout you give me a Hell ride?” I asked. 

“What do you mean?”, she said with a grin.

“I’ll dress as my female alter ego,” I told her.  “You tie me up, drive my away from home, and leave me.  I’ll have to walk home as a woman.”  She thought it was a great idea, and we arranged to do it.

Since there was no time like the present, I dashed off to change myself into a woman:  Padded girdle, waist cincher, black bra with silicone breasts.  I dithered terribly about what to wear;  too conservative would be dull, but I might not be able to carry off a real flamboyant outfit.  Slacks would be cheating.  I settled on a dark blazer, my leather skirt, and black, patterned tights.

“Wear your highest heels!” my partner admonished, “I want you to feel every step you’ll take!”  I put on my ankle strap pumps with five inch heels.  My partner did my makeup: lipstick, eyeshadow, false lashes and fake fingernails.   I put on my tawny red-blonde wig  and gold earrings, and I was ready.

“You look great, honey!” she said as I posed in the living room.  “Now I’m going to drive you out somewhere and leave you.  You’re going to have to figure out where you are and walk back, in heels no less!  O.K.?  I smiled and nodded.

“One other thing -- you’ll have to get loose first!”  She produced several hanks of rope.  Stepping up to me, she tied my hands together in front of me.  Adding a couple of turns around my arms and body, she escorted me out the door and over to her car.  I managed to sit gracefully in the passenger seat.  She reached in and tied my ankles tightly, and then my knees below the hem of my leather skirt.  The last touch was to fasten my seat belt.  She quickly trotted around the car and got in.

“One last thing,” she said.  Removing my glasses, she tied a scarf over my eyes.  Tied and blindfolded, I was totally helpless.

“You know I get motion sick, don’t you?”  I asked her.

“Not to worry,” she said, “We’re not going far – I wouldn’t give you that much Hell!”  We lurched out of the driveway and headed off down the street.  I tried to follow what she was doing so that I would have some idea of where I was being left, but she made so many turns I finally lost track.

Sitting blindfolded, with my hands and feet tied, I was beginning to worry about my stomach when she finally pulled to the side of the road.  I felt my seatbelt come loose and my car door open.  “So long, bitch!” she said with malicious glee.  I was unceremoniously shoved out of the car.  With my arms and legs tied, there was little I could do to break my fall.  I landed on the ground next to the car – fortunately padded with soft grass.  I rolled away from the car and lay still.  My partner chuckled maliciously.  I heard the door slam, and the sound of her car pulling away. 

I lay on the roadside.  Around me was silence.  I wondered where I was.  After a couple of minutes, I began struggling against my bonds.  I couldn’t afford to enjoy my predicament—I had to free myself before someone came along and wondered why a sexy woman was lying next to the road tied up and blindfolded, and what use could be made of her.  I rolled over and sat up.  Lifting my hands to my face, I located the knot binding my hands with my teeth, and managed to work it loose after a couple of minutes.  I whipped off my blindfold, to find myself in near darkness.  I undid the cords pinning my arms and legs, and shakily got to my feet.

I brushed my long hair away from my face, and stared around.  I was standing by the side of a road, but there were no houses, cars  or streetlights anywhere.  My heels were sinking into the shoulder, so I stepped up onto the asphalt.  I had to start walking, but which direction?  As my eyes adjusted, I noticed that the sky was slightly lighter in one direction.  I decided that had to be the city, and started walking that way.

My high heels clicked as I walked along the edge of the road, occasionally staggering as I mis-stepped on gravel.  I couldn’t afford to twist an ankle out here.  I was afraid I was miles out in the country, but soon I came upon a cross street with a streetlight and a sign.  I recognized the name of the street, and finally knew where I was – a mile and a half from home.  My spirits lifted and I picked up my pace.

Then I heard barking.  Two dogs dashed out from the yard of an isolated house.  They swirled around my legs, barking and jumping.  I tried to hurry away from them, but then the porch light came on and a door opened.

“Miss?  Miss!  Do you need help?”  I couldn’t reply in my masculine voice; I just turned and waved in what I hoped was a feminine manner.  The dogs, thankfully, ran back to their yard.

A short distance later, the sidewalk started up, and I moved to walk on that instead of the roadside.  A good thing, too – there were more cars than there had been.  I hoped none of them were too curious.  Their headlights would blind me, and I had an excuse to hold my hand in front of my eyes, protecting my face from the blinding beams and too much curiosity.

Then, from behind me, a car slowed right down.  A male, juvenile voice shouted out, “Hey baby, want a ride?”  Laughter.

“Oh, boy.  What to do?  I shook my head and waved again,  only this time it didn’t work.

“Why you F**king Queer!  We’re gonna come back and beat you up, you Fag!!”  I walked a little faster as they gunned past me.  A beer bottle landed in the bushes right behind me.  Now I was scared – what if they did come after me?

I had planned on staying on dark streets until I got home, but now I wanted people around.  Taking a deep breath, I turned onto a street that had a couple of businesses – and bars – on it.  I held my head high, and stayed on the sidewalk well away from the beery-smelling doorways.  I still got a couple of catcalls:  “Hey, honey, c’mon in and have a drink with me” At least they were polite. 

At last, I turned onto our street.  My feet were killing me in my high heels, and the fury of emotions I was feeling had about worn me out.  Now I had to hope that none of our neighbors would see through my feminine costumery and recognize me. 

Then one did.  “Good evening miss – Oh!”  Mr. Urbaszk, out walking his dog.  His friendly greeting suddenly changed when he realized who this ‘woman’, really was.  His next expression was the real surprise – he smiled. 

“You’re looking very nice tonight, ‘miss’, “ he said.  His friendly tone stopped me.

“Uh—thank you, Mr. Urbaszk,” I said.  I patted my hair – I couldn’t help it.

“It’s all right,” he assured me, “I sort of knew that you and your friend did some unusual things.  I actually know another TG person.”

What a relief! I smiled.  “That’s so good to hear!  I don’t usually go out, but –“

“What’s the point of getting beautiful if no one sees you?” he asked reasonably, then went on.  “Although – pardon me, but – don’t you and your partner play other games at home?  Tieup games?”

“Errr, Yesss,”

“I must say, looking like you do – you really should have your hands tied.”  My whole insides flipped.  I couldn’t believe it.  As it happened, I’d kept the rope that my partner had used on me.  Wordlessly, I held it out, then turned.  Mr Urbaszk efficiently tied my hands behind me.  We set off down the street, him with his little dog snuffling around, me with my hands tied.  When we got close to our house, he held a finger to his lips.  We mounted the steps quietly.  He smiled, then – amazing! – kissed me lightly.  I felt totally feminine.  He re-blindfolded me with my scarf, leaving me standing in high heels, my hands tied, on my front porch.  I heard the doorbell ring, and felt him slip away.

I heard the door open.  “Well – what have we here?” my partner said, as if she found tied up women on her porch weekly.  I was guided into the room, and seated in one of our straight chairs.  I felt my body being roped to the chair, then my high heels were removed – blessed relief!  My feet were placed in a warm foot bath, and my ankles were tied.  I felt a piece of tape being placed over my lips, and I relaxed – tied to a chair, gagged and blindfolded, having endured a Hell Ride.

Copyright 2010 Cynthia Trusscot


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