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1Trespasser and the Three Sisters
Chapter Two- A Fateful Day
By The Technician
BDSM M-Solo F/M f/m Bondage Suspension Spanking Humiliation
This is a story in five chapters.
Chapter one is looking back at a childhood event that is background for what happened.
Chapter two relates the adult echo of that event which causes what happened..
Chapter three is what happens with sister one - Darci.
Chapter four is what happens with sister two - Marci.
Chapter five is what happens with sister three - Staci.
Warning: Do not try this at home. This is fantasy folks. It talks about inverted suspension bondage. That is dangerous. It can lead to stroke, loss of your hands or feet and lots of other nasty stuff including death. Be really careful if you start to mix fantasy with reality. Too much whips and leather can lead to a really sore ass - I know. Just a little too much inverted suspension can lead to death - I hope I never find that out, but now you have been warned. I was also warned, and I know it is dangerous, but the moth is still drawn to the flame.
Chapter Two - A Fateful Day
Memories of a childhood introduction to suspension spanking causes a young man to ignore “No Trespassing” signs and experiment with a little self-bondage in an old barn. But nothing every goes as it is supposed to for him and he ends up trapped naked and hanging upside down.
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I stumbled across the old barn while I was hiking along some back roads looking for some good country scenes to photograph. I am a professional photographer, or at least I try to be. Most of the nostalgic country scenes are pure crap artistically, but they sell magazines and calendars so the editors will buy them. It pays the bills, and I like to walk in the country, so here I was miles from anywhere in a forty pound camera vest filled with various lenses and filters and a tripod slung over my shoulder..
Normally I get permission before actually going onto any private land, but this barn called to me like some mythical goddess. There was an old rusted “No Trespassing” sign barely hanging from one of the fence posts. When I touched it, it fell to the ground faced down. I should have walked away, but that sign falling down was like the last barrier disappearing.
Something stirred deep in my mind as I walked up the short driveway and pushed open the sliding door. As soon as I entered the barn, my mind was flooded with memories. Inside it looked almost exactly like uncle Frank’s barn. It even smelled the same. I half way expected to find aunt Lena’s tawse hanging on the wall with the old harnesses.
There were no leather harnesses, but there was a strange looking well pump against one wall that apparently was used to fill a large tank on the upper floor of the barn. Evidently back in the days before electricity, you would pump the water by hand into the upper tank and then it would flow down to water stock or whatever on the lower level. On each side of the barn there was also some sort of chain and pulley system on tracks that was probably used to raise something to the upper level or at least move it around inside the barn. Evidently the large cylinders were also a part of that system because they had brackets that seemed to connect them to the chains.
I examined everything a little closer and realized that these smaller cylinders were tanks of some sort with an open top, a spigot on the side and some sort of drain plug on the bottom. Perhaps at one time a hose or something was connected to the spigot of the tank and they were raised up so that the liquid could be distributed along each side of the barn.
I don’t know what it had been designed to do, but I immediately saw what I could make it do. I could use these tanks and chains and pulleys as an automated self-bondage suspension system. If I pumped just enough water up into the big tank, and ran large hoses from the big tank to the small hanging tanks, I could fill those tanks with water. The now heavy tanks would pull downward and pull an equally heavy weight upward. Then the tank would slowly drain and the heavy weight - me - that had been lifted would be slowly lowered back to the ground.
I decided that I would check out who owned this barn and work to put my plan into effect.
The first thing I found out was that the barn was on land owned by “the sisters.” Nobody ever referred to them as anything but “the sisters.” Their dad had been a fairly successful farmer and they grew up on his farm. By the time he had passed away, he had already bought out quiet a few farms in the area. The sisters never married and continued living together on the home place after they inherited it. Now they farmed thousands and thousands of acres and basically ruled the county. They were not well-liked by those whose farms had fallen on hard times and had been purchased by them and so they kept pretty much to themselves unless they had to come into town on business.
All of their land was posted with big “No Trespassing” signs, and wherever possible, any access roads had been closed to the public and converted to private access only. The only reason that the road I had been on was still open was that it had been designated as a farm to market road by the state planners and could not be closed.
Since I knew that the sisters would never allow me to “photograph” the empty barn, I decided that I would risk not asking. After all, wasn’t it Confucius who said, “It is easier to beg forgiveness than to obtain permission.”
I wasn’t totally stupid, however. I studied the sisters habits and learned that they almost always took time off each year to exhibit at the state fair. I really don’t understand any of that, but it meant that they would be gone or very busy for at least nine days in August. That was when I would put my plan into effect.
But first, I had to test some things and make sure that everything would work the way that I envisioned it. There was an old country cemetery about a half mile up the road from the barn. There was a creek at the back of the cemetery and people often parked in the parking area at the front of the cemetery and then walked down the hill to the creek to fish. Since the county now owned the cemetery, the creek was public access at that point. That probably really irritated the sisters also, but it was a place to park a car where no one would really notice it.
I parked my car at the cemetery and walked down the road to the barn. No one was around and there were no dust clouds indicating anyone was driving on the road, so I slipped inside. The old hand pump worked exactly as it should. I closed the drain valves on the tank in the upper level and with a little bit of work - actually a lot of work - I pumped about 50 gallons of water up into the big tank. That would be over 400 lbs and should easily lift someone into the air. Since the smaller tanks were about 40 gallons, there was plenty of capacity to spare for what I had in mind.
I had brought along a couple of lengths of large tubing that fit easily onto the output ports of the large tank. When I opened the valve they easily filled the small tanks. Water came into the top of the tank much faster than it flowed out of the bottom. Had I not secured the chains to a support beam, the water-filled tanks would have easily lifted me off the ground. Now all I had to do was wait for August and the state fair.
Fair time finally arrived. The sisters were definitely at the fair and would be there for at least one more day. It was time to put my plan into effect. My plan was to suspend myself upside down in the barn using techniques that I had developed and used in the past. To minimize danger to my feet I would be wearing heavy work boots - and nothing else. The ropes which would be tied to the chains wound around the boots so the probability of a pressure cut or causing severe tissue damage was at a minimum. For my wrists, I would be using padded cuffs. And to be sure that my shoulders or hips wouldn’t be damaged if the chains did not move smoothly as the small tanks filled, I would be using heavy rubber truck tie-downs to secure my wrists to the eye bolts that I had attached to the floor posts.
If everything went as I had planned, I would pump 50 gallons of water up into the big tank, then I would attach the large tubing and raise the small tanks into the air. After I had attached myself properly to the chains and posts, I would pull a rope which would open the drain valve. The smaller tanks would descend as they filled and my feet would be pulled up into the air until I was completely upside down in a spread-eagle position. I had inserted a short length of smaller pipe into the drains of the small tanks so it would take several hours for the tanks to empty enough for me to slowly be lowered back to earth.
If one of the tanks failed to empty for some reason, I had small ropes attached to rapid-open valves that I had screwed into the tank in place of the spigot valves on their sides. The rope to the left tank was where I could reach it with my right hand once it was no longer under tension and the rope to the right tank was where I could reach it with my left hand once it was no longer under tension. The probability that both tanks would fail to empty was almost zero.
I had thought of everything. It was time.
I took off all my clothes and stored them carefully away from where the water would be splashing around. Then I put on my boots and cuffs. Somehow it seemed right that I would do the work of pumping the water up to the large tank while I was naked and cuffed. Besides, it was very, very humid and I would have gotten my clothing all sweaty in just a few moments. As it was, sweat was running off of me long before the gurge on the tank reached the 50 gallon mark.
Finally everything was ready. I lay down in the correct spot and attached the ropes to my boots and the connectors to my cuffs. Looking around at everything to make sure that all was exactly as I had planned, I pulled the safeties on the chains and pulled the rope on the main valve and the water began to flow and the small tanks began to descend.
Within a few moments I could feel tugging at my legs. Shortly thereafter I was dragged slightly along the ground and my legs began to lift into the air. The water continued to flow and the small tanks continued to descend and my legs continued to go up into the air. Finally I was totally upside down with my legs widely spread. The small tanks were about six inches above the ground just as I had planned and water was slowly trickling from the drains. I was tightly stretched, but not overly so.
It was exactly what I had been trying to accomplish. I hung there relishing the feeling of helplessness. If I ever found someone who truly understood my needs, I would have to arrange for them to find me just like this. Until then, I could hang here and pull against the pressure drawing me upward and experience the helplessness fueling my arousal and feel the breeze against my naked flesh which proclaimed my vulnerability.
Then the lightning flashed. It was almost like the door opening back at uncle Frank’s barn, but the light came from everywhere all at once and was immediately followed by the loudest thunder I have ever heard. Moments later torrential rain began pelting the tin roof of the barn.
The light and sound and smell were just more sensations to experience and I began to relax into the feelings until I heard the sound of rushing water. Water - large amounts of water - was pouring into the barn. I was twisting my head from side to side trying to figure out where the water was coming from and where it was going when suddenly the tension on my legs increased greatly. I looked up at the tank above me and could see two large pipes above the tank. They were down spouts. The gutters on the barn emptied into the tank like a cistern. The tank was filling rapidly and with the main drain valve open, all of that water was pouring out into the smaller tanks.
I had figured 20 or so gallons in each tank for about 160 pounds each, but the tanks actually held 40 which would be well over 300 pounds. The additional weight was stretching me and straining my joints. In addition the rubber holding my arms down was starting to stretch. This was good because it lessened the pull on my shoulders and hips, but it was bad because it lowered the tanks an additional 6 or 7 inches. They were now sitting on the ground, or to be more exact, the drain pipes beneath them were driven into the ground. They were plugged with dirt and would not drain. I was trapped.
End Chapter Two
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