Chapter 1: Early History

My name is Sabrina Wheeler, and I was born on the 14th of April 1970.

So I was thirty-two years old and on the 14th of April 2005, will become thirty-five. I am still, at the time of this writing, held in a private, secret, basement dungeon in a house somewhere to the southwest of the city of Munich, Germany, in the direction of the Starnberger Zee. I have been kept in this dungeon for over well over eight years now. So I* am told, always in solitary confinement for the first four, but that is not the worst of my situation ... by any means.

This is the story of how I came to my present life here in the dungeon.

***

I was born in Munich and moved through my childhood quite normally, being the only child of a loving mother and father. Although they wanted more children in their lives, I was the only one they were to receive, and so they lavished their love upon me, providing a happy, secure, and wonderful home to grow up in.

My mother was an educated, intelligent woman and, as such, elected to stay at home to raise me while my father worked as an engineer for a large aviation company here in Germany. I suppose he would have preferred a boy as his only child, but he made no issue of this and spoke continually to me about his work, as he would had I been a boy. As a consequence, I became interested in mechanical things quite early in life, and like most children who are taken into the world of an adult I wanted to be just like him.

I was a happy girl and a good student, but I’m sure my curiosity was a constant source of wonderment and some worry to my parents. I followed the path of most young German girls, doing all of the things that were expected and programmed for me along the way. I read all the fairy tales about young, beautiful princesses, handsome knights and fearsome dragons that are used to entertain children. However, it was at this point in my life, probably seven or eight years of age, that I discovered I had more than the usual fascination with the plight and fate of the princesses in those stories.

At first, it was an unfocussed desire to experience what they were subjected to as the poor victims of evil men, with no thought in my young mind that perhaps the heroines had been imprisoned for good reason, at least in the eyes of their captors. Too, being such unwilling prisoners, I knew they would eventually be freed by a valiant knight on a white charger then taken off to a land of never-ending love and being cherished. At some point, my desires began to clarify. My attraction was to the fact that these women were kept captive in very strong chains and that they were always locked away in deep secret, and secure dungeons from which there were no possible escape. I don’t know why these visions held the attraction they did. They became an over-riding fascination that I thirsted after, and read all the tales I could find about this kind of situation, but never spoke to my parents or friends of this strange enchantment, enjoying its terrifying attractions in the privacy of my room.

One of the highlights of my teenage years, at thirteen, was to secretly buy a pair of real handcuffs. I spent many enjoyable nights playing with them in the privacy and sanctuary of my bedroom, wondering what it would be like to be truly locked into these restraints with no means of removing them from myself. I tried them on my wrists and occasionally clasped them around my ankles, enjoying the sensations of strict control they engendered. Along with this playing, I also learned how to pick their rather simple locking mechanisms, as well as those of the regular locks around the house.

My attraction to these situations continued to grow while I passed through adolescence, but schooling took precedence. Thanks to my father’s influence, I studied mechanical and aviation-related subjects until eventually, I graduated and went to work for the same firm that employed him.

I knew I was a pretty girl by most standards and some even called me beautiful, but I tried not to let it go to my head. Just before I was incarcerated by my Master, my measurements were: 177 cm tall (5’ 9”), a weight of 68 kg (150 lb), bust 84 cm (33 in.), waist 67 cm (26 in.), and hips 91 cm (35 in.). I have green eyes and a light complexion, so there was really nothing special about me, but a lot of men liked me, and so my social life was quite normal for a young woman in the 1980’s. Although I wasn’t a promiscuous lover, I enjoyed the attentions and romancing of many young men and showing off my body provided me with a great deal of excitement and pleasure. My boyfriends were always very attentive and treated me with kindness and respect, but I knew there was something missing in these relationships, no matter how satisfying the sex.

I was unlike my friends, for most of them had married and had children by the time they were twenty, whereas I remained single, still searching for my ideal lover. I despaired of finding someone who could take me off to the land of pleasure I dreamt of, where I could freely enjoy my growing dream of being chained and held as a loved and valued prisoner by a caring but strict ‘Master’.

Fate was unkind though, for at the age of twenty, in the summer of 1990, I suffered a devastating loss when both of my parents were killed in a terrible automobile accident, and I was left alone in the world. There were no aunts or uncles for all of my father’s and mother’s relations had been killed during the war, leaving them both as surviving orphans and so with few close friends, I was actually quite alone in the world. I do not know how I managed those first months after they were gone, but my few girl friends helped me through this period and work provided much relief. I immersed myself deeply in my job, only going to bars and clubs on Saturday nights and without doubt, I became somewhat of a flirt and very opinionated. In so many ways, those traits were my undoing. By the time I was twenty-two, I’d begun to think I’d never find the man I was looking for, but then, I met Thomas.

At first, I didn’t think too much of him, for at twenty-six years of age, I thought he was a little too old for me. However, there was something in his eyes and the way he talked and moved that was distinctly attractive. Surprisingly, for some strange reason, we didn’t have any sex that first night, even though it certainly seemed to be around the corner. We danced and enjoyed ourselves immensely and over the next weeks, the forces drawing me to him, and him to me, became stronger and stronger. Within a few more weeks, we were going to all sorts of events and clubs together, and our pleasure in each other’s company grew. We dated for a long time, then came the fateful night when he asked about my dreams and secret desires. After a bottle of wine and a lot of stammering and blushing, I revealed some of my secret longings and the scene that followed stands out in my mind as one of the most memorable and fateful nights for me, for that is where the story of my present life truly begins.

Thomas reached into his pocket and casually drew out a pair of handcuffs that matched the ones I had at home! A tremble shook my body, and I gasped at the sight of the shiny, steel restraints that lay revealed between us on the table of our booth. They were his, and he obviously knew how to use them. He watched me closely while I stared at them, then I glanced up into his eyes and realized he might be the man to make all of my secret dreams come true. How much so I had not the foggiest of ideas! We decided, then and there to leave the club and go to his home, which, strangely, I’d not visited until now. Thomas had been a very private person until that point and I trembled with thoughts of what delights we would enjoy now that his desires were also partially revealed.

My mind was in turmoil while he escorted me to his car, and along the way, between street’s lights, he asked if I’d wear his cuffs. I whispered yes without a thought, and we stopped, then I turned my back to him, slowly moving my arms behind me, feeling how doing this made my breasts even more prominent. His strong hands held my arms, and while I stood trembling, he turned mine so that my palms faced outward, then slowly clasped the steel circlets around my wrists until they were painfully tight. Thomas turned me to face him and wrapped me securely in his arms, then bent to kiss me deeply. I responded with a fervour I’d never felt before, shuddering in ecstasy and almost fainting from the flood of sensations flooding through my mind. My desire was plain when I pushed myself forcefully against him, writhing with arousal. When we finally broke from our embrace many minutes later, he took me firmly by the arm and led me further along the street to his expensive car ... a convertible Mercedes sports coupe.

Wearing high heels together with a tight, black, leather mini-skirt made my progress slow, but the rasping sound of my nylon-sheathed thighs when they rubbed against each other while I walked, both felt and sounded incredibly sensuous. Thomas had draped his coat over my shoulders then slowly pulled my pinioned hands up my back until they were hidden beneath it. I never noticed the cold, revelling only in the sensations my captivity had brought forth.

I was soon strapped into the passenger seat, but he’d left the cuffs firmly fastened, then I was driven sedately to his home, some twenty km to the south of Munich, near the Starnberger Zee. I was surprised at the size of his house even though over the course of the dates we’d enjoyed, he’d told me that he also was an only child. Both of his parents had been older than mine but died within months of each other a few years ago and so now he was fully his own master. From the appearance, location, and size of the house, he was indeed ‘comfortably off’, and after seeing his car and now his home, it was apparent that he was, in fact, quite wealthy. I asked him about this as discreetly as I could while we drove up to the garage door, watching it open by remote control.

Until this point he’d said little about his life, despite our having talked of many things. I knew Thomas worked with computers and did a lot of travelling, but he really didn’t need to do any work at all; it was more of a hobby and to pass the time. The garage door slid down and closed, then he assisted me from the car, being the very essence of gentlemanly behaviour while he escorted me inside and to the living room. When he’d removed his jacket from my shoulders, hanging it in the closet, he came back and asked if I would like to have the handcuffs taken off. I replied that I didn’t want to be freed of them just yet and pulled a little against their restriction, rubbing my thighs together under my skirt, feeling the growing wetness while my fingers fluttered uselessly in the air behind my buttocks. Under my thin blouse and bra, my nipples remained rock hard and super-sensitive and I found myself almost panting with desire to be taken by him, even bound as I was!

He looked deeply into my eyes when I declined to relinquish my captivity, then came over and wrapped his arms around me again. I melted against him, shuddering with this discovery of what I had so long sought ... but this was only the very beginning! Our kisses and his caresses seemed to go on forever, but at last we stopped, and he went to the kitchen for a bottle of wine. I lay on the couch in a daze of happiness and waited, still fastened.

Over the next hours, Thomas spoke far more freely about himself than he ever had in the past and I was entranced to learn of his dream of keeping a woman as a total slave. Having the money and time he did, he told me that he would treat her, quite properly, as a total possession and would ensure by whatever means possible, and necessary, that she would remain that way. I wanted so desperately to be that girl and a moment later told him how much that dream meant to me, also. The rest of our night was spent in a glorious marathon of sexual revelry and it is a night I shall not soon forget. All during our joy, he kept the handcuffs clasped firmly around my wrists, but unlike most men when they’ve completed the sexual act, he was caring and comforting in the extreme. What topped it off for me though, was that just before we fell asleep, he took another pair of handcuffs from his bedside table, leant down, and clasped them around my ankles! I was in heaven and almost passed out from the overwhelming wash of sensation and emotion. He covered my shivering body with a silken sheet and blanket, opened the window to the night, and only then returned to the bed and lay beside me. He was soon carried off to a deep, satiated sleep while I continued to shiver, although not from the temperature, but from the sensations of my longings at last being brought to reality while he’d held and caressed me moments more.

For many minutes after he began gently snoring, I lay there beside him, pulling a little at my restraints, then, before I knew it, I too had fallen into a deep, satisfied sleep. It was the very first time I felt that I was where I was supposed to be. At last I’d found the man I wanted to be my ‘master’, even though some of the dreams, thoughts, and ideas he’d told me of were more than a little scary. My growing love, I think, was because of the fact that his dreams so closely mirrored my own. Like most people when they are confronted with a long-held vision about to come true, I was nervous about the possibility of it actually happening.

The next morning, he freed me of the cuffs, then joined me in the shower where we happily scrubbed and washed each other and before we knew it, we were once more entangled, enjoying wet and wonderful sex. Over the rest of that day and for most of the next week, we revealed ourselves more fully to one another and discussed how we were going to manage our lives to reach our goals. I wasn’t independently wealthy, but was certainly not short of money and I suppose that had made me into somewhat of a bitch and not just a little headstrong, although he had yet to find out more fully about these facets of my personality.