Holidays have rarely had any importance to me. I spent a couple of decades travelling for business and when you do that, the last thing you want to do with time off is spend it in airports and hotels. A holiday was a day or two spent doing relaxing at home.
Even now I tend to only take a day or two at a time, usually for time with my domme.
For a long time my type of holiday tended to be one where I have taken a break from the daily grind to have a holiday from my male career-oriented self. Fortunately, that male doesn’t exist any more, so I’m remembering the days in the mid-2000’s when I still rigourously policed who I was. The days when I thought that reluctantly letting out the person who needed to dress put me in the CD/TV bracket where I could let out the steam with a bit of ‘sissy’ roleplay. How little I knew back then.
It brings to mind what is perhaps the most unusual of these short ‘holidays’ of them all.
Content Notice: Consensual Kidnap
There had been a falling out with my mistress and it looked as if that was all over. After a couple of months I had a need to do something to have a holiday from those breakup blues. At which point I came across someone on the old CollarMe site advertising kidnap scenarios.
After a bit of research to prove she was reputable and reliable I started a conversation. The arrangement became one for a full 24 hour kidnap scenario. She was located in an end of the line seaside town in the north-west. Back when I was working in the mill in my teens, this town was one of the traditional destinations for the mill workers during the two week summer shutdown.
The setup and snatch was quite well done, probably it had been practised quite a bit. The pretext was that I was travelling up there for a job interview. Getting off the train at what was barely more than a siding there was a well dressed chap holding up a sign with my name on it inviting me to get into a nice car to be driven to meet his boss.
You know this is roleplay, that the domme involved is safe and reputable, there have been conversations about safety and yet it’s still a leap of faith to hand over the case to the chauffeur and get in the car – on the other hand, this was my holiday, my treat to my self and its sore soul.
We drove around for a bit and it was explained that to keep the meeting/interview secret that we’d meet his boss somewhere out of the way and I’d transfer to her car. We pulled up to a bit of open ground outside the town and I was shown to a small red car that was in dilapidated contrast to the other one and as I settled into the passenger seat a blindfold was thrown over me and then cable ties around my wrists and foam earplugs inserted.
This is where the safety of roleplay contrasts to real life terror. You know you’re safe, you know that if the other person is skilled they will make you have doubts and above all you know you only have a fixed time for this to play out and you know that you can back out at any time.
Somewhat disoriented from this takedown I was then chained to the seat and made to duck down before she went haring off like a car chase scene in the movies with just a curt explanation of it being a precaution in case we were being followed.
I know talking to my domme and others that they have a massive rush of adrenaline when doing a kidnap takedown. This domme was driving on the full effects of that rush.
At our destination I was led into a house and down some steep stairs to a cellar basement where the blindfold and restraints were removed to find myself in a dungeon and commanded to strip.
The game to be played out was that she was an agent for a rival company determined to extract secret information for industrial espionage.
The first few hours were alone, naked in a dark cell with loud music playing for disorientation. I learned a few tricks there about coping with disorientation and keeping track of time that I regret years later when it came to the brainwashing sessions with my current domme. It took me a long time to unlearn those things and suspend the need to retain agency over the situation.
The next 24 hours were punctuated by ‘torture’, either physical or psychological pressure. Late at night she had me dress in a skirt and blouse before taking me out to her car. Parked up outside an all night store I was given a pound coin and told to go inside and buy a magazine. Pushed out of the car it was the one time that I truly cracked. Today I wouldn’t think much to it. Back then it hit every nerve about exposure, my dressing was a secret and being exposed in public was a terrifying concept.
I wimped out of that, so she drove me to a deserted cemetery and tied me to a tree draped in sharp holly. All I can really recall was how cold it was to be left there in the wind.
These two scenes were the most realistically scary of the whole time.
Back in the dungeon there was a greater feeling of safety that probably took the edge off the whole experience if one was looking for fear and danger – as many are wont to do.
I can remember the ‘torture’ session as she plucked out some 300 pubic hairs. I’m not sure if I was supposed to have found it as cathartic and enjoyable as I did.
Our time was almost up when she decided to fill up what was left with some rope bondage. I was tied to a chair in one of the dungeon spaces and liberally adorned with ropes before she left me to it.
The bondage wasn’t terribly well done, I soon found myself with plenty of wiggle room and was determined to have a bit of fun. You could say that I was determined to have the last word. Not only did I get out of the ropes, I properly hanked them all in a tidy pile. I was just about to get dressed when she came back down to the dungeon. The surprised look on her face was all I could have hoped for.
And with that, she drove me back to the station and my most unusual little holiday was almost over with enough memories to last all this time.