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Barefoot in the Barn
  • Author - Little Miss Piggy  
  • Rating -   
  • Site Rank - 1976 of 2737
  • Unique Views - 10779
  • Story Codes - f-self, reluctant, armbinder, bondage, caught, non-fiction, self-bondage
  • Post Date - 4/4/2019
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Author's Note: Hi Everyone

So after I punished my last story I got an email from a guy who told me the bit he liked most about it was the barefoot element. I'd included it entirely by accident and, of course I wanted to know more.

I was intrigued, and I set myself a little dare (I set myself - please don't email me thinking I'm going to fulfil all your kinky requests!). Anyway, afterwards I wrote a story which kind of documented what happened (I say kind of because I might have exaggerated one part to make it a better story... I'll let you judge which bit).

Anyway, I kinda hope the guy who emailed had a good wank over it and it seemed rude to deprive you guys of it LOL

I hope you enjoy it as much as he did!



So the first thing I did in the morning was pack up all my shoes and socks and put them in the wardrobe. I gave myself a little speech too, imagining that I had a master and he was telling me that "shoes are a privilege", that "they made me proud and materialistic" and how much it pleased him to see me go without them.

I also set myself a challenge, if could remain barefoot all day then I'd be allowed to masturbate that evening before I went to bed. I should probably explain what a big deal that is to me... I ALWAYS bring myself orgasm before I go to sleep, at least, unless I'm with my boyfriend (in which case he usually does it for me). I find it extremely difficult to sleep unless I've cum. It wasn't an idle threat.

The barefoot thing... I'd take it or leave it. It wasn't my thing but this wasn't my fantasy. It was the fantasy of my imaginary master so if it turns them on then that should be good enough for me.

The first few hours were fairly straightforward. The carpet tickled, the tiles were cold. I didn't really hit problems until my mother asked me the take the rubbish out of the house. It was a small job, but I couldn't easily avoid doing it without looking bratty and going outside barefoot would have raised some hard to answer questions.

I tried to persuade my little sister to take it but ultimately failed. Downhearted I went upstairs, opened my wardrobe, and took out the trash.

I was sullen over lunch. Disappointed that I'd failed so early in the day and determined that I'd try again when I was back in London and wouldn't have to answer funny questions from my parents. My more immediate concern however was my lack of a nightly orgasm. As I mentioned above I'm a very sexual person and the idea of lying in bed for hours and not being allowed to touch myself... let's just say it wasn't ideal. I could cheat of course, I didn't have a real master so no one would know. But I try not to cheat... frankly, otherwise what's the point?

It was early afternoon when I solved my dilemma. Any real master would give me an opportunity to redeem myself (admittedly some real Doms may use a cane to do it) so I couldn't see any reason why I shouldn't give myself the same opportunity. If I could devise something far more difficult than simply mooching around the house all day barefoot (I was of course sans slippers again by this point) then surely I could re-earn my right to play with myself.

It was about 2pm when I took Mabel, our middle aged border terrier out. I was wearing my trainers along with jeans, an insulated berghaus jacket, and a pair of gloves) but I also had a plan. As soon as I reached the end of road and entered the field I would take my shoes and socks off, hide them, and then take her across the fields with nothing on my feet. It was cold (obviously January in the UK is very chilly), wet, and not an especially nice day. This would appeal to my imaginary foot fancying master, I'd redeem myself, and I'd have my orgasm. Kind of like a kinky double or nothing...

Anyway, I climbed over the gate and into the field and lifted the old metal gate so Mabel could climb under it. She's allowed off the leash in these fields so I let her run while I hid behind the wall, crouched against a rock, and slipped off my shoes and socks.

I don't think I'd realised just how cold the ground would be. There was water on the grass and my feet were almost stinging as I hid my belongings in the wall and fixed my sights on the barn which lay on the far side of the three fields which made up Mabel's playground.

The bottoms of my trousers were soaked as I reached the little bridge which marked the boundary between the first field and the second. It was annoying, but they'd have been like that whether I was wearing my trainers or not. What was worse was the pool of muddy which sat at the far end of the little bridge. The collie had simply leapt over it (and I have to admit I was tempted to do the same, but doing so would have defeated the point right??? So I lowered one foot, then the other into the ice water and grimaced as I felt the mud seep between my toes. Gritting my teeth and thinking of my orgasm I pressed on.

The rest of the fields were not too bad. In fact I even started to enjoy it. I'd warned up a bit and was finding the whole experience strangely liberating. I pictured my imaginary master smiling proudly at what I'd done.

To my surprise I began to feel hot. It wasn't the walking so much, more the idea that I was doing a good job and that what I was doing was turning someone else on (although I'd have been mortified if I'd thought anyone was watching me). By the time I reached the barn, instead of turning around I was thinking of ways I could ramp things up even further.

I've been sneaking into the old farm structure for years and neither Mabel nor I had any problem gaining entry. She slipped under the locked wooden door and I climbed up onto the wall and through and poorly boarded window.

I had a vague idea what I was going to try and do so once I was inside I stripped of my coat, jumper, vest, and bra before putting just the coat back on. There were plenty of places to hide my remaining clothes inside so I just hung them on a long iron nail which served perfectly as a clothes hook.

Mabel joined me outside and we set off on the "extension loop". This section of the route followed in parallel to a quiet country road, hidden from view by a wall of thick conifers. The path hugged the edge of the copse, sometimes turning in behind a tree and other times veering out back into the fields. We took this part of the walk more often in the summer, when the longer evenings gave us more inclination to spend time out with our little collie.

Today however I had other motivations for eating to extend the route.

In the final stretch up the field I'd begun to imagine another scenario. One where, instead of just walking across the fields in my own time I was being dragged along by my imaginary master. The trouble was how to achieve it.

I'd used my belt as a collar several times before, usually in the lovely warmth of my London flat. Out here however was an entirely different prospect... and not just because of the cold sleeping into my fingers. Stuffing my gloves into my pocket I undid my belt and refastened it around my neck using the special hole I'd added previously for my selfbondage fun. Once my belt was in place it was a simple matter to use Mabel's leash and fasten one end around my own neck.

I did all this while I was walking. It was too cold to stand still for long and I held onto the leather lead as I watched our dog dash back and forth as she followed the various smells of the forest. The next step would be somewhat more dramatic.

I'd deliberately bought gloves which could be fastened together. Not because I was particularly likely to lose one, but because even my little naive mind could see how they could be turned into handcuffs. I'd never used them in that way, but as I plotted my filth I was immensely pleased I'd brought my mittens and not stolen my sisters.

Taking a deep breath unzipped the jacked and refastened it as far as I could behind my back. Cold air rushed over my breasts and I instantly began panicking that someone would come around the corner at the far end of the wood.

I whistled, calling Mabel back to me and fastened the trailing end of the leash onto her collar. It was shorter than I'd intended, obviously designed to run from someone's arm rather than their throat but if I bent forwards and kept close to her we could make it work.

Finally I put the gloves on behind my back.

It wasn't the most impossible selfbondage I've ever done. All I had to do to cover myself was slip off the gloves, unzip my coat and wrap it back around my front but believe me - out in that chilly field all on my own on a winter's afternoon I felt extremely exposed!

By the time I'd finished my bondage I was about half way along the line of trees and I followed Mabel, stumbling awkwardly as she picked up a scent and made my way to the end of the trees.

I was frozen by the time I reached the small bridge which led onto the road. I stumbled as the collie jumped the distance with ease, almost falling into the water myself and possibly banging myself in the process.

Now, for the first time I was really vulnerable. I was acutely aware that a car could come up behind me at any moment and, as much as I may try to convince myself otherwise I knew that there was little chance I'd cover myself in time. To make matters worse this wasn't central London, where everyone is a stranger. This was the village where I'd grown up! If someone saw me here it would most likely be someone I knew, someone who would ask my parents what I was doing being dragged by the dog, tits swinging in the wind, with my bare feet covered in mud and who knows what...

I shivered at the thought and for the first time I realised how much the rough tarmac was hurting my feet. Mabel picked up a scent in the woodland and I was suddenly pulled off balance into the verge.

It was then my heart stopped.

From somewhere behind me, still distant but approaching fast, was the unmistakable sound of a car. Quickly I pulled hard against the leash, coaxing Mabel back onto the road. I slipped off the gloves, fighting to free my hands from behind my back. I heard the mitts hit the floor but I didn't care, I'd retrieve them later.

I tugged furiously at the zip behind my back, trying to release it so I could refasten my coat over my boobs. My nipples stood out defiantly, my heart pounded and I felt sick, the car was getting closer, and the zip refused to budge.

I swore, fighting desperately with my coat with tears burning in my eyes. I glanced over my shoulder, my eyes widening in terrors as I not only saw how close it was but recognised it as one of my elderly neighbours. Giving up on my coat I did the only thing I could think of.

I turned. My timing had to be perfect. As the car sped past I turned towards the woodland, turning my back to the vehicle and continuing to twist as it passed me by. Mabel tugged on the lead and I held the leash with one hand as I fought to cover my tits with the other. Ultimately I have no idea whether I was seen by the old man or not, either way the car didn't slow and I was left alone, heart pounding, by the side of the road.

I was back at the corner of the field. I don't remember the last hundred metres but my belt was still around my neck and although I'd managed to free the zip I hadn't covered myself. My feet were stinging with the cold and the sharp stones and somewhere back up the road were a pair of gloves, I wasn't going back for them.

There was no way I could climb the stile with Mabel attached. I'd fall and break my neck! Releasing her I watched as the collie sped off into the field and I worked my way over the wooden steps, moving carefully to avoid splinters and stepped into the cold soupy mud on the other side.

I paused for a moment at the corner of the woodland. I was nearly back at the barn but I needed a minute sat on a rock and out of sight of the road to pick stones from my feet and calm my nerves.

I'd like to say it didn't take long for me to collect myself but the truth is I was getting very cold and if I sat much longer I'd make myself poorly. I was about to stand up and walk back to the barn when my eyes fell on the fence next to me.

To say my adrenaline was pumping would be an understatement. I was also, despite myself getting extremely horny. The close call with the car had terrified me and, as I sat there on my rock with my tits out and feet covered in cold mud I was beginning to feel like the little slut I'd been writing about and claimed to want to be.

I spent most of the time sat there, although probably no more than a minute, was dedicated to working out how to increase that feeling. I was like an adrenaline junky pursuing scarier and scarier kicks, or, I suppose a fetishist who wants more and more extreme experiences to stay aroused.

( link opens in new window )

It probably sounds like a silly comparison. All I'd actually done in reality was get muddy feet and nearly flashed an old man. But as I sat there, perched with an ever cooling arse all I could think about was what I could do next.

That was why I was looking at the fence. Entwined within the wire was a length of that rough kind of string which farmers use, sisal I think it's called. There was about two metres of it (although a decent portion of it was submerged in a muddy puddle) and I just knew I could put it to a kinky use (remember I'd lost my gloves on the road so my restraining options were rather limited).

Getting to my feet I pulled at the string. It wasn't just underwater, part of it was under the mud itself and when I finally freed it I realised just how dirty and disgusting it was. Returning to my rock and slipping my jeans down to my knees I decided that I wasn't going to go quite as far as I'd originally intended. A muddy cunt I could possibly tolerate, but who knew what else was beneath the surface in that bog! Sheep shit in this field after all!

Instead I tied the crotch rope as tightly as I could over my knickers, making sure I had a big knot as close to my clit as I could manage. I refastened my jeans, taking hold of the trailing end of the leash with my right hand I set off for the barn.

My knickers were sodden by the time I crossed the field (and not just from the sisal). Believe it or not I was beginning to get used to the stinging cold in my feet and even having my tits on display didn't worry me too much (now I was off the road at least). The rubbing against my clit however was becoming too intense to ignore.

Once again I climbed into the barn through the window, this time to retrieve, rather than abandon items of clothing. Sure enough there they were, hanging as I'd left them on the nail in the corner. Reluctantly I stripped off my jacket ready to reclaim them and unbuckled my jeans so I could untie the crotch rope.

My white knickers were ruined. Covered in mud and soaking through. Even if I got them home I couldn't put them in the wash basket for my mother to find. Even if I managed to smuggle them back to London I wasn't sure if the colour could ever be truly washed out. Grinning slightly I stepped out of my jeans, untied the string, and discarded my underwear. The farmer would probably find it in the summer, I wondered what he would imagine had taken place in his barn!?

I stood there for a moment. Cold and shivering, naked except for the makeshift collar and actual leash which hung from my neck. It was then the last of my trepidation finally left me and I decided to warmed myself up properly, all inhibitions thrown to the wind now I was inside and, at least somewhat private.

I had, I remembered stashed a small tupperware somewhere. It had been the previous summer so my memory was a little hazy but if I could remember when I'd hidden it there should be a padlock and key which I'd brought, planned to use, and then chickened out of using.

It took me some time to find the concealed toys. I wasn't exactly rushing, more strolling around the walls, between the farm machinery, and through the various spare animal feeders currently being stored there. After a time inspiration struck me, climbing up on one of the bailing machines I reached into a gap in the brickwork. Spider webs coated the plastic tub and I squealed in disgust as I wiped the sticky threads from my hands before clambering down to earth.

The trap I had decided for myself several months beforehand was sketched in pencil on a crumpled piece of paper in the air tight container. Also there, vaguely jogging my memory was the lock and key I'd anticipated along with an old tennis ball with an incision down one side. The idea, if my drawing and memory was to believe was to hide the key in the tennis ball, lock myself to something, and then have to retrieve and extract the key in order to escape.

I looked desperately around the barn for inspiration, tugging on Mabel's leash idly as my mind worked. It didn't take long for me to find my inspiration. The V shaped animal feed trough I'd walked past was, I was sure, the answer.

Walking over to the trough I grabbed one end and shunted the cold metal around so the end sat in one of the deeper puddles. Kneeling down in the water I paced my head between the metal bars of the V, it was perfect!

With the key hidden safely in the tennis ball and left to bob idly in the water beside me I looped the leash around the bottom of the metal frame. When I clicked the padlock in place I was trapped, happy in my self bondage.

Unable to lift my head from the food trough the smell of animals filled my nostrils. Adrenaline coursed through me and almost without thinking my hand moved to my cunt. I was the piggy, forced to my hands and knees in the mud. My hand was dirty, but I didn't care. Filth mixed with juices as my fingers played with my clit. I could hear Mabel playing somewhere nearby, no doubt wondering why I was making such strange noises.

I shooed her away, listening to the splashing noises as she fled. I returned to my work, letting my head rest against the cold metal as I slid my fingers inside myself.

I came. My legs shaking and kicking up cold muddy water over my bare feet as I climaxed, shuddering as I experienced one of the most intense orgasms I've ever had. Driven by my adventure, powered by my arousal I fell against the metal frame, listening to my internal monologue as I called myself a pig, a cunt, and any other suitable noun which crossed my slightly addled mind.

It was only when I finished creativity slut shaming myself that I realised the problem. Mabel, the elderly collie lay watching me. Between her front paws rested the tennis ball.


She must have stolen the ball while I thrashed around in the puddle.

"Come on Mabel... come on girl... fetch!"

The dog looked at me, intrigued, but clearly not feeling compliant given my dismissal of her earlier.

I strained against the leash, hoping I could free myself with brute force. It was useless. The leather leash, padlock, and metal held firm. The best I could hope to do was to drag the feeder, carrying it with me as I pursued the dog around the bar. I didn't want to do that.

"Come on girl..." I pleaded, once more for luck before I was forced to start the heavy lifting. Mabel barked in response, clearly enjoying the game as she picked up the ball in the mouth, rose to her feet, and ran from the barn.

I shook the frame. I screamed and shouted. I fought with a rising panic, desperate to snap the leather, break the padlock, or free myself through sheer force of will. The barn echoed with the sound of my fear and I had visions that the farmer would find me, the dumb cunt, naked and frozen to death when he came to retrieve something from storage when the season turned to spring.

Eventually I exhausted, tears streaming down my face and my body covered in mud. It was only then, as the muddy puddle began to clear that I saw it. The key. Presumably falls from the tennis ball either when Mabel picked it up or during my orgasmic thrashing. Tears of relief sprang to my eyes and I began fumbling in the cold water to retrieve my salvation.

It was some time later when I eventually emerged from the barn. It was getting dark and even Mabel was looking irritated at being made to wait so long. I couldn't see the ball anywhere and I resolved never to use any potential dog toy as an escape mechanism again!

Despite the night beginning to draw in I was substantially warmer now I was dressed again (well, except for my shoes obviously). I didn't bother with them when I passed the gate, I was that used to walking barefoot now I just tucked them under my arm with the now detached lead and set off down the road for home. I was calmer now, the terror I'd felt in the barn now a memory but the post orgasm glow still filling my exhausted body.

Even sneaking into the house wasn't too bad. I hosed off my feet and washed my face outside, and slashed plenty of water on my shoes to help fool my parents. Ditching my jeans in the washing basket I jumped in the shower, my body finally warming after it's time out in the cold.

I'm still barefoot, tapping away on my laptop long after my parents have gone to bed. I did try and sleep, even going through my regular evening routine to relax. That makes two orgasms in one day, one in the mud and one under a duvet. The adrenaline and fear of the afternoon had subsided now and I could look back at my adventure with a measure of perspective, touching myself as I thought of a particularly juicy bit. When all my efforts to sleep failed I got up, quietly slipping on my dressing and creeping downstairs to write. I expect I'll finish it over the next couple of days... but who knows how many times I'll have been back to the barn by then!?

Barefoot may not be my thing. But humiliating myself, crying, and masturbating in the dirt... yeah, apparently the piggy slut likes that a lot!

The End
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Monday, April 15, 2019  

Good story! An adrenaline rush for sure!

Saturday, April 13, 2019  

Great Experiment!

Thursday, April 04, 2019  

Excellent story even though I do not have a bare feet fetish.

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