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update jan 16 - 2010

M+/f, D/s, BDSM, exhib, bnd, BDsm, humil, ws, tort, rough

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Lonna
by J Lewis

tjlewis132 (at) aol (dot) com

A tale of a woman willingly subjected to the bdsm lifestyle by her husband in conjuction with an author of a fetish web site

Part One

SYNOPSIS: Husband and wife accept the guidance of a BDSM website author into the actual lifestyle of a submissive. The author offering to post a storyline with her as the principal character, she initially agrees to submit to his whims for the tale to continue in additional chapters……… Which can, through a number of chapters guide her into the spiraling sadomasochistic lifestyle if the tale’s well received; otherwise the story can stand on its own as submitted.

Chapter One

Their chauffeured ride to the private club already having taken well over an hour, the misting twilight’s become darkness as she gazes out past the tinted window. Settled back basically silent, the short, simple white terrycloth robe barely covering her naked body, the leather surface of the seat’s cool to the touch of her bare flesh. The slightest of conversations, mainly an awkward silence in the darkness of the rear of the stretch Lincoln, the author weighs on her mind, her recollections of the degrees of stories he’d penned, on the one hand the erotic type that has had on more then a couple occasions her juices flowing, then again her thoughts wondering nervously toward the harsher, brutally dark tales more to her husband’s likings.

Initially apprehensive herself, finally coerced by her husband into accepting the invitation to an evening of submissiveness at an actual fetish club recommended by the author, she can’t help but thinking back to what’s led to this evening. An occasional indirect glance over toward her husband sitting to her left, she thinks back to the light but escalating role acting at times between them in the privacy of their bedroom, the spankings, the loose bindings, never anything much more painful then a few clothespins on her most sensitive flesh until they begin reading the author’s stories. Reflexively slipping a hand beneath her robe, cupping a bare breast, she gently manipulates the slight roundness of the mound of her areola while silently recollecting the playacting becoming not quite enough, for either.

Staring back out into the darkness with mixed emotions, she sits thinking of the web site, the stories of bondage, submissiveness, even to the point of stepping up their little games, together mimicking an occasional erotic idea or two between them of the author’s, whose tales seem to always draw their collective interest above all the others. She thinks of how his way of graphically telling his tale, the insight into the feelings of not only the perpetrator but the victim, has continuously made his stories to her a must read, even more so for her husband.

Staring out the window, gently caressing her responding nipple, she recalls their talks after reading a recent story on the site that rocked them both, then of her husband actually having contacted the author over the internet e-mail, and after a couple correspondences agreeing to a tale based on her, leading up to her somehow both enthusiastically yet apprehensively submitting to this evening of actual submissiveness to begin their new ongoing storyline.

Deep down, the idea of an evening of submissiveness in front of a group of strangers at a real fetish club seems more then exciting. After all, a couple of his stories have been incredibly erotic to her, to the point of at times secretly imagining being the submissive herself and simulating the role, to stimulating, masturbating herself while reading the tale while alone in front of the computer, actually even to inflicting some of the same punishment on herself with the clothespins, even one of her husband’s old, discarded belts.

Feeling her nipple hardening as she gently manipulates it; she can’t help but wonder what it’s going to be like to be subjected to a real session, even with her husband present with her. On the other hand, in the back of her mind she also can’t help but anxiously dwell on some of the darker tales, the possibilities to harsh to consider.

The limousine slowing, turning onto a brick laid drive, practically stopping in front of the outline of what appears to be a guard shack to the left, the wrought iron gates ominously closing from behind as the Lincoln rolls forward, follows the winding drive cutting through the manicured, tree lined landscape, she can feel her heartbeat picking up, her stomach fluttering with anticipation, mixed with a mounting anxiety.

Again momentarily glancing over toward the back of her husband’s head as he continues to quietly gaze silently out his tinted door glass past the evenly spaced lighting on the passing hillside, she glances up toward the veranda of the looming estate as the limo approaches, slowly enters the circular drop off. A sinking feeling, ominously sensing the background’s out of some of the author’s more harsh storylines, she realizes the chill spreading throughout her trembling body’s not just from the cool leather seat, as she can actually feel the goose bumps spreading across her bare breasts beneath the loose robe.

Observing the row of dark limousines lining the driveway in front of them being spattered by a light, misting rain, she watches the uniformed valet’s scurrying about, handing out umbrellas amongst the formal attired couples making their way up the number of wide, stone steps to the main entrance. The limo stopping in line, the apprehension builds as she just can’t take her eyes from the mingling crowd, all so well attired, so proper, so unlike herself. The sight brings out the thoughts of the more sinister stories, the harsh punishments of the heroin.

“Well Lonna?”……..

Nervously twitching, glancing back toward her husband’s voice, his face now finally turned toward hers in the shadows, seeing the gleam in his eye even in the darkness of the limo’s unlit interior, she feels the doubts, lowers her eyes, quietly mutters, “I… I’m nervous…. scared... scared to death!”

“What? What’s to be afraid of? It’s just a little game, and I’m here with you!”

His voice firm, forceful, she can even sense the excitement he’s feeling, as much excitement for him as the apprehension in her. “I… I don’t know! I… I mean… Look out there. Just look at them… At this place,” she almost whispers, her voice breaking in an almost pleading tone as she glances up toward the rows of heavily curtained windows lining the aged limestone facade of the asylum appearing estate. “I don’t know if I can do it... Go through with it! I’m… I’m too embarrassed to strip my robe… Like I said, I’m really scared! Please!... Just look at this place!”

Sensing him sliding over toward her side of the seat, hearing the sound of the leather crinkling beneath his weight, glancing down toward his hands reaching out toward her, cupping the rounded curves of her covered breasts, she slips her hand down and away, watches as his fingers glide across the outer contours of her breasts, part the robe simultaneously.

“Now… Now listen. That’s enough of that! Now assume the position like we’ve practiced so much at home!” Hearing his firm voice, more then just a hint of a scolding tone, she feels her body shudder as the robe begins to spread apart, the terrycloth stretching across her bare nipples, the nubs hardening high on her firm, globular mounds being exposed. Biting her lower lip, barely nodding, reflexively dropping her hands palms up against her obediently spreading thighs, arching back her shoulders as she’s rehearsed so much the past few days, her eyes remain fixed on her bared breasts as she hesitantly thrusts them outward for him as they gently bounce, sway.

“Okay, that’s better. Now part those legs a little wider and let’s take a look at that shaved pussy.”

Again obeying his crude demand, still staring downward, she slowly spreads her hips further as she feels the warmth spreading across her face even as she also feels the cool leather making contact with her buttocks, her freshly shaven vagina, the puffy folds of her labium clinging, flattening uncomfortably across the supple leather of the seat.

“There then,” he scolds as he slips a fingertip down across her rounded pubic area to just above her parting slit. “Just keep with the routine and you’ll be just fine tonight… Have fun with it… Then we’ll go back home.”

Raising her eyes, staring straight ahead toward the hazy reflection in the dark dividing glass partition of the limo as a tear wells up, feeling the limo’s slight momentary motion, again coming briskly to a stop, she senses the movement just outside the vehicle, the sound of the handle being lifted, the door jerked open. A cool rush of damp air, a few specks of moisture flicking in from above and she feels her husband’s hands across her shoulders, slipping the robe harshly down across her bare back as he firmly turns her toward the opening.

“When you step out, remember your submissive pose, even in the rain, hands palms forward to your sides, chest out,” he orders as in an almost single motion he quickly slips her left, then right arm from the short sleeves, drags the robe from beneath her bare buttocks, reaches around and cups her left breast, lifting it upwards. “I’ll be right behind you myself. Now keep these tits pushed out like this!... Go ahead now, get out there and show ‘em your stuff!”

Again the pounding in her chest and the churning in her stomach, the coolness of the car’s interior now’s a chilling, damp sensation as the mist filters inside the open door and settles across her bare flesh. Hesitantly slipping her legs outward, she embarrassingly steps barefooted one at a time onto the wet, inlaid brick driveway. Eyes focused on the curb just in front of her with the presence of two, three valets eagerly stepping around the limousine, the specks of moisture quickly becomes a steady shower of cold pattering raindrops deflecting off her bare torso as she blinks her eyes, arches her shoulders back. Taking a deep breath, thrusting her already glistening breasts outward to the elements as ordered, she exposes her now naked body to the mounting onlookers, both nipples shriveling as they jiggle.

Straightening, she senses her face flushing as she assumes the pose she’s practiced in front of her husband over and over. Feeling the chilling breeze, the cold raindrops absorbed into her bare flesh as she stiffly braces, she can’t help but notice several of the arriving couples also hesitating under their umbrellas as they look her way. Lowering her eyes, her hair becoming disheveled, makeup beginning to smear, she feels groups of goose bumps spreading across her bare skin as she stands firm, obediently displaying herself in the raw, damp air.

A couple murmurs from the obviously appreciative valets, a few more audible observations of the other arrivals, she can feel the warmth continuing to spread across her face, now even across her glistening chest as the cold droplets of water splatter across her exposed breasts. Hands rigid toward her sides, her hair already matting across her forehead, the humiliation is almost worse then her physical discomfort as she feels the misting shower soaking in.

Finally hearing the other door slamming shut, her husband stepping around the back of the limo, her eyes remain lowered toward the sight of the water streaking down across her quivering globes, trickling off her cold, puckered nipples. The seconds ticking by like minutes, colder and wetter by the moment, she struggles to maintain her posture, to block out the onlookers, to force herself to continue with the routine as her churning stomach knots up.

“Okay Lonna,” he whispers as he hunches over, leans toward her ear, accepts an umbrella from a valet. Flicking it open, letting the black material cover only his own head and shoulders, he adds, “No sense me letting my clothes get wet, huh? Follow me.” Stepping in front of her a couple paces, glancing toward the stone steps, he nods toward the ivy covered stone facade of the immense building imposingly situated on the summit. Passing between several of the hesitating arrivals, without even glancing back, he casually climbs the three tiers of steps leading to the main entrance’s leaded glass double doors swung open under the canvas awning.

Stopping, turning as he closes the umbrella, shaking it two, three times, he sits it upright next to the door’s column under the canopy. “Come on, get out of the rain, you’re ruining your makeup,” he scolds as if she had a choice while he watches her mounting the last couple of steps, naked and drenched, her bare breasts bouncing swaying from her arched out chest.

Chapter Two

Into the foyer, a domed Victorian themed entry, she obediently remains a couple steps behind her husband as she can’t help but catch glimpses of a number of patrons of the club drawing around. Soaked, chilled to the bone; her bare feet leave wet footprints across the checkered black and white tile flooring as water drips from her naked flesh. Unable to control her spontaneous shivering, her nipples puckering on her swaying, bare breasts, she’s led across the oval room toward a stand not unlike a podium of a finer restaurant where they’re greeted by a formally attired, more then middle aged but distinguished appearing man.

“We’ve been expecting you,” he speaks with an almost condescending voice as he glances directly toward her, his eyes first lowering, slowly raising to obviously rest at breast level. “It’s a shame the uncooperative weather’s marred your makeup.”

Glancing back toward the husband while reaching a hand outward, an outdated quill tipped pen in his fingers, he turns a parchment across the podium’s slanted surface. “She will need to sign this… You may witness it just below,” he speaks in the same tone as he holds the pen outward between the pair while he nods toward the agreement, “Then we can get started with her right away.”

Watching her husband grip the pen, glance toward the document; she’s startled by the man’s stern, and firmer voice as he adds. “No need to insult anyone by reading it… It’s just a release and a binding contract for her ‘care’ for the evening.” A brief glimpse into the man’s piercing eyes, quickly lowering hers again, the anxiety’s quickly becoming a real fear as his voice becomes even louder, forceful as he glances back toward her husband. “She looked into my eyes… That will be addressed immediately following her signature!... I assumed she had been properly instructed on how to behave… Hasn’t she?” Tapping the table with the pen, glancing back at her, he again demands, “I said, haven’t you?”

Sensing a glare from her husband, the ever tightening group circling them, she can feel herself trembling even more so, her face flushing as she fixates on the contrasting tile squares meeting just in front of her bare toes as she hesitates to speak, on what to say before weakly answering, “Ye… Yes Sir, I have… I… I’m sorry!” Feeling her right wrist gripped, her husband’s hand almost forcefully placing her hand above the script, she reflexively accepts the feathered pen, scribbles her signature across the bottom of the almost full page of print. Chest pounding, too frightened to even try to read the contract, she clenches her lower lip between her teeth as she watches while his hand surreally signs below her signature.

“Very well then!” The man’s voice no more pleasant as she’s again concentrating on the floor, she feels her wrists being gripped from behind, her arms tugged back past her sides. “She’ll learn quickly not to make that mistake again… I’m sure of that!” Still only his voice breaking the silence of the room as she feels herself being forced to bend slightly forward between a pair of men from behind, her elbows squeezed, tugged, bound, they’re tugged some more until she feels them painfully press together. A wide strap wrapped across her throat, the tall leather collar fitting between her chin and sternum, everything seems to be happening in brief moments.

Glancing over toward her husband as she pleadingly squints through the moistness still dripping down from her tangled hair, wet forehead, she feels the stinging sensation of her wrists crisscrossing up behind her back. Being forced to tiptoe from the pain of her arms being impossibly bent, contorted until her wrists can be fastened to the back of the collar, she harshly grunts as an ‘O’ ring’s forced between her spreading lips prying her teeth painfully apart. Unable to turn her head, relax her shoulders or arms, just as suddenly she’s forced to stand upright, her breasts jaunting outward, firmly swaying toward her sides as she tiptoes, twists in the grip of the pair of black clothed attendants straddling her from behind.

“Enough!... Enough of that… Hold still girl!”

The impeccably attired man’s voice echoes out again, even more assertive, demanding as he steps around the podium directly in front of her. Holding the signed parchment in a raised fist, glancing toward the husband, back toward her, he continues, “The agreement’s signed, sealed and delivered! The rest of the evening, and then some, you’re going to be experiencing the intimacies of our little club!” Glancing back toward the husband, past him to the approaching chauffer, he adds, “He’ll be chauffeuring you back to your home… Of course with one of the submissives of your choice in the next room to accompany you, if you wish… The limousine’s waiting. And, I believe you’ll be receiving an e-mail by the time you’re delivered back to your residence.”

Seeing her husband stoically turning away with the chauffeur who brought them, she anxiously watches as they stride from the foyer out into the hallway without even looking back. The entire situation surreal, almost in a daze, she feels the dread consuming her. Lightheaded, her escalating pulse pounding through her chest, body aching, still trembling, glancing around at the accumulating mixed group of club members, she feels her wrists; forearms lifted upwards forcing her forward onto her tiptoes directly in front of the man.

“He’ll be enjoying his evening, I’m sure,” he states as he glances toward the contract, back toward her as he adds, “But don’t worry, you’ll have more then your share of attention too, especially as soon as we get you prepared for your initial indoctrination. I think you’ll be somewhat surprised just how much you’ll be experiencing with your contracted stay with us... It’ll be quite uplifting to start!”

Grunting, shaking her head back and forth, she senses a black scarf being slipped across her face from behind, covering her eyes. Saliva already streaking down off her chin from the crimson ‘O’ ring, the scarf jerked tight, in the darkness she feels herself shoved from behind, forced into a brisk pace out of the foyer between the two attendants for the beginning of her first taste of true submissiveness.

End Part One

LONNA

Part Two

Chapter One

Briskly led into the bowels of the mansion, half walking, half jogging as the assistant’s hands grip either forearm, her feet seem to barely touch the floor, the flight of stairs as she’s barely able to gather her thoughts, dare to even imagine what’s in store for her as the black cloth ominously covers her eyes. The echoing sounds of the attendant’s hard soled shoes covering the pattering of her bare feet along with her occasional grunts through the hallway, the short trip to the second floor comes to an end as she’s pushed through the doorway into a noticeably warmer room.

Twisted, turned, her head jerked back by her tangled hair as she’s forced to tiptoe, she feels a breast manipulated, squeezed, tugged, the biting sensation of rope looping around, sinking into the tender flesh of her right mound. Each tightening twist more painful, again only able to grunt through her drooling saliva as everything seems to be taking place at a hectic pace, she senses the gruff hands working her left breast, it obviously being hastily bound in the same harsh manner as she’s held stationary from behind. Several loops burrowing into that aching breast, forced to tiptoe, swaying to the creaking sounds of an above head pulley, she feels her arms released.

Forced to balance on the balls of her feet, for the first time since entering the foyer she finds herself standing alone, being held by ropes instead of hands. A momentary quietness becomes the sound of mounting footsteps and murmurs, of what sounds like the room filling with people. Her chest pounding both from the pain of the ropes tension and the apprehension of her predicament, her nude body still damp from the exposure, she can feel the drool dripping across, clinging to her bound globes as she senses someone close to her side.

“That didn’t take long, now did it?... Let’s see.”

Hearing the elder’s now familiar voice, feeling him slipping his hands across her bare chest, checking, flicking the taut ropes rising from her swollen breasts, she barely grunts, whimpers from the already gripping pain as the tightening ropes pinch; dig into her bound flesh as he gives a jerk, a couple flicks, steps back.

“Yes, these will do just fine, time to begin… It appears everyone’s present.”

The same voice, obviously turning away from her, she also hears another whimper, a woman’s whimper just in front of her. The rest of the room quieting, a hand behind her head unwrapping the dark scarf, as it drops from her eyes she’s startled by the sight from between the stretching ropes of a young Oriental woman just a foot or so in front of her, also bound and gagged in the same manner, her naked body glistening, her huge swollen breasts also hoisted upwards by a pair of ropes rising to a pulley attached to a rafter between them.

Her dark scarf also being slipped away, the attendant behind her stepping back as she continuously twists on her tiptoes, Lonna feels the ropes tensing, tugging through the pulley, forcing her higher onto the balls of her feet as she can’t help staring at the girl’s natural, yet exotic beauty. The ropes creaking, anxiously glancing up toward the swaying pulley, following the ropes looping through, she realizes their breasts are bound together with the opposite ends of the same ropes. Grunting, eyes at first fixed on her own bulging breasts, quickly glancing around; she realizes they’re being displayed to at least a dozen patrons, some sitting, some standing in the mixed crowd, all intently watching.

The elder off to her side, seeing him again stepping forward, she quickly glances downward even as she’s almost swaying on her toes, Grunting groaning as the weight of the other woman drags at her uplifted breasts, she feels a rope being attached to her wrists from behind, followed by an attendant affixing another rope to the Oriental’s wrists. Her naked body just inches from the Oriental’s as the ropes are teasingly tugged, their ballooning bare breasts barely touch at times, even in her bondage the sensation of her swelling nipples pressing against the other woman’s sending rippling chills through her chest.

“Well Lonna,” he speaks in his same forceful tone while giving a nod to the attendant behind the Oriental, another nod to the attendant behind her, “Told you it’d be an uplifting experience.”

Feeling her wrists dragged downward and back, her breasts twisting as she’s forced to slowly semi-kneel, both swollen globes tautly bulge upwards as the ropes squeak through the pulley above her. The pain burns through her discoloring breasts as the dark haired girl slips awkwardly forward, her sleek olive toned body rising, lifting upwards as their naked body’s press together. Seeing the saliva drooling from the girl’s bright red ‘O’ ring, her dark brown oval eyes glaring pleadingly upward toward the ceiling, Lonna agonizingly watches the girl’s body beginning to twist as it stretches, nearly lifts from the floor.

“Oomph!... Aaaggghhh!... Oomph!... Aaaggghhh!” Their groans, moans intermingling with the creaking of the ropes, the pain ripples through Lonna’s chest as the full weight of the Oriental tugs at her firmly bound breasts. Glancing up at the girl’s anguished face; her own face just inches from the dark, bulging breasts ballooning out in front of her, Lonna feels the rope being manipulated, the girl just as suddenly being lowered. Again the ropes creaking, still taut on her own aching breasts, the relief’s only momentary at best as she watches the attendant behind the Oriental kneeling down, beginning to tug back on her rope, arching the girl’s naked body backwards.

Beginning to tiptoe herself, breasts stretching up in front of her own face, Lonna finds herself forced to lean forward toward the other girl, their bulging breasts passing, bumping together, the sets of swollen nipples flicking, sliding across one another’s as their naked body’s are manipulated, Lonna’s bring lifted upwards as the Oriental’s forced to begin to kneel. The continuous motion of being hoisted, the painful reality that her toes are almost loosing contact with the floor as she claws the floor, Lonna feels herself being practically suspended into mid air by nothing but her throbbing breasts as she aguishly glances down between the taut ropes into the tearing dark oval eyes of the girl’s flushed face.

Again after a few painful seconds the ropes are adjusted behind them as Lonna finds herself being slowly lowered. Again their globular mounds bumping, pressing firmly together, the pairs of protruding nipples rub, grind as they cross paths while the ropes are being slowly manipulated by the attendants until both girls are finally allowed to stand facing one another flatfooted. Taking a couple deep breaths, feeling the warm cushioning effect of the girl’s spread areolas flattened against her own as their breasts press together, Lonna glances downward between her bulging melons, realizes the sensation’s almost stimulating as well as humiliating.

“Now,” the elder scoffs as he steps beside the naked pair, their bowed silhouettes almost caricatures with their bulging breasts stretching upwards between them in the taut ropes, their areolas pressed flat together. Flicking a rope back and forth from each girl’s breast, he glances around the enthusiastic group, back toward the pair of roped women as he smirks, “How’s our little game so far? How’s it feel to have another girl’s swollen titties pressed, bumped against yours?... I bet it actually feels pretty good, doesn’t it?”

The girl’s saliva dripping, mingling across their chests, the humiliation obvious on both their faces, a nod by him and the ropes creak again. Once more the Oriental tilts forward, her breasts flattening even fuller across Lonna’s before she again tiptoes, again becomes hoisted almost into the air as her breasts drag past, flicks upwards across Lonna’s face.

“Mumph!… Oomph!... Aaaggghhh!” Their grunts louder, their breasts even fuller, darker, tauter, the twisting Oriental’s held suspended for at least a full minute, even more as the ropes creak between their stretching globes. Toes twitching across the floor, her flattening stomach rippling; again she gazes up toward the swaying pulley as saliva drips from her gag.

Another nod by the elder, the ropes directions reversed, Lonna again finds herself forced to gradually stand upright from her kneeling position, her nipples embarrassingly tingling as her breasts stretch upwards in the embedding ropes. The taut, nearly translucent areolas appear the size of silver dollars as they press beneath the Oriental’s bulging globes ascending across them as Lonna’s eyes are fixed on her own discolored breasts being flattened downward across their tight bindings until they flip, spring up past the rock hard breasts lowering against the front of her. Straightening, tiptoeing, again frantically scraping for the floor she finds herself again swaying, practically twisting in midair.

Barely whimpering through the gnawed ‘O’ ring as her head tilts back, her glazing eyes on the swaying pulley above her, it’s another minute, maybe even another while her naked body twitches as she prances. Her breasts feeling as if they’re bursting, the ropes finally begin to creak, to slowly reverse, the floor rising to her toes, her feet finally flat on the wood surface as again the foursome of globular mounds flatten back together with the naked pair standing facing one another yet again.

Another nod by the elder, an attendant steps forward from behind the Oriental and spins her around. Gripping the ropes binding Lonna’s breasts the other attendant begins untying, unwrapping her swollen globes. Whimpering, the pulsing pain of the embedding strands loosening, slipping off from around her discolored breasts as her saliva continues to drool down between the purplish mounds, she finds herself being twisted, forced toward the door as the creaking sound of the pulley again echoes through the crowd. Glancing back as she’s stumbling through the doorway, she see’s the young attractive Oriental again being hoisted up off the floor by her discolored breasts.

“Now that I believe we have your complete attention, and you’ve been given just a taste of what we can have in store for you, we’ll move forward to the next step down the hall,” the elder smirks as he also hesitates, watches the girl’s naked body twisting and turning in mid air while the remaining attendant steps beside her with a lengthy bull whip drawn back in his clenched fist. “Follow me.”

Chapter Two

Led well down the hallway, hearing the fading but crisp sounds of leather beginning to strike bare flesh, the girl’s horrific squeals quickly following, Lonna can picture the curling black leather snapping across, curling around the girl’s naked body. Finally shoved into another doorway, she passes through a similar amount of patrons finding seats positioned between a pair of podiums in the parlor size area. Struck by the sight of another pulley and swaying ropes above one podium, she notices the other contains a simple, white sheeted bed.

“Now for your choice Lonna,” he orders as he nods toward the attendant, has him begin unbinding her arms. “We’ll going to release these bindings, collar and all, for the time being,” he adds as she feels the stinging sensations spreading from the numbness in her arms, her shoulders as the ropes are abruptly removed by the attendant.

Glancing toward the podiums, stepping between the swaying pulley and the bed, he grips a dangling rope, glances back toward her as he instructs, “We’ll going to give you a few minutes to recoup your feelings while the guests get to admire your body that you’re going to be so kind as to offer to us if you don’t want to put this pulley to use. You have your choice of either podium… You’ll be spending your time on one or the other for awhile.”

The ‘O’ ring the last thing to be removed, instinctively crossing her aching arms across her still hardened nipples, she glances toward the swaying ropes, back toward the bed as the attendants step back.

“Okay, up on the podium, now,” he orders as he reaches out, guides her hands down toward her sides. “And that’s reason for punishment too… You know that, don’t you?... That’s your second warning, the next will be a dozen lashes with a crop across those breasts!... Now get up there and assume your proper stance for everyone… And maintain it!” Nodding toward the foot of the bed, again turning her by an arm, he gives a slight nudge, guiding her up the couple steps. “Get with it!... Kneel on the bed and face the members or I’ll have you stand under the pulley on the other podium and put it to use.”

Obediently climbing the stairs, turning, kneeling, twisting on the firm surface of the mattress, she glances downward toward the foot of the bed as she presses her hands across her thighs, palms outward. Bowing her shoulders, arching her back, she forces her globular mounds to thrust outward, gently swaying toward her armpits. Glancing toward the still barely visible outlines of the rope’s impressions across her bare titflesh, catching the sight of the other ropes dangling down above the podium across from her, she feels the anxiety of her churning stomach, the continuous thump of her heartbeat in her chest as her knees spread further apart humiliatingly revealing her widening slit to the group.

Kneeling, shivering, trying to maintain her strict pose, the room remains quiet, her naked body shimmering, the last traces of moisture dripping from her bare flesh onto the bedding. Still focusing her attention on the edge of the foot of the bed, catching the expressions of the mixed group centered around the outer edge of the podium, she can hear the murmurs, the quiet indiscernible discussions of the onlookers.

“Why aren’t your lips parted?”

Hearing his firm voice breaking the silence, slightly jerking, she parts her lips, forming a partial circle with her puckering mouth. Blinking, slightly moaning as she realizes she forgot one of the basic rules, she also realizes that’s her third indiscretion.

“Okay, I warned you,” he scolds as he steps in front of the podium, in front of her revealing a short, flexible black riding crop in his right fist. “That’s a dozen in due time, but first, let’s give our guests a little entertainment,” he adds, glancing around the room, back toward her. “Give us a little dance, work those breasts… Maybe even finger that vagina like you mean it while you keep beat to the music and I may forgive the lashings, even the pulley. Then again, I’ll just add another dozen lashes between those legs when you’re suspended by those tits completely off the floor if you don’t perform to expectations… That’s if you’re not seductive enough for your audience.”

Apprehensively watching as he steps aside, the crop flicking ominously back and forth in his hand, hearing the soft sound of music rising in the background, she hesitates, slowly, nervously slips the backs of her hands upwards across her still damp thighs, past her hollowing stomach toward her chest as she turns her palms inward. The thoughts race though her head of the fantasies back at home, the playing out of being embarrassed, of being used in front of strangers; it all seemed so erotic then, now with the threats it’s becoming a harsh reality, and out of her control.

Humiliated, yet if possible, somehow excited, trying to think of how to somehow display herself to the group, glancing down, surreally watching her own hands cupping together beneath her outthrust globes as she tries to pick up the beat of the soft, slow music, she spreads her fingers wider, melds the tips of her fingernails into her soft mounds. Trying to downplay the looks of the group, concentrating on avoiding being whipped, to be hung by the swaying ropes, she lets her thumbnails press into her puckering nipples, twisting, manipulating the tan surfaces of her spread areolas, her breathing becoming noticeably stronger.

The music continuing, slightly rising a decimal or two in volume, she hears the overriding snaps of the crop in his palm, the ominous threat of its use obvious. Beginning to rotate her hips, she arches her shoulders, her chin sliding across her sternum, between her uplifted, bulging mounds as she attempts to begin a rhythm to the music, to massage her firm globes for the member’s pleasure as a couple or so of the group step closer.

“Lick a tit,” a man’s voice from the side. “Squeeze ‘em,” a woman’s from in front. “Push ‘em out further,” another woman’s voice from around the podium as the music raises again, the beat maintaining its soothing pace.

Caressing her breasts, gently rocking from side to side, she feels her soft flesh pressed against her cheek. Spreading her lips, twisting her head, flicking the tip of her moist tongue outward, letting it brush across the again hardening nub of her swelling nipple, she squints, momentarily closes her eyes as she listens to the snap of the crop, the background music.

“Lean on back… Spread those legs further apart… A lot further.” Again his voice, louder, sterner as she also hears the sound of his footsteps across the podium, the sensation of the crop’s leather gliding across her bare shoulder. “Now close your eyes tight… And keep those breasts pushed up… Clench your fists behind your neck and bare those nipples for the crop…Now… Right now!... Do it or I’ll whip your vagina instead!”

Order overriding order, trying to comprehend, to obey, she bows further backwards. Heart pounding, she releases her breasts, slips her hands behind her head, frantically arches across the mattress until falling back into a semi arch. Feet curled beneath her thighs, legs spreading outwards, breasts swaying, jaunting upwards, she feels hands, fingers clawing at her bare flesh, fingers slipping into, prodding her widening slit, squeezing both breasts, flicking the nipples.

“Head back!… Mouth open!… Wide open!... Wider!” Again his stoic voice above the raising tempo of the music, the sensation of the mattress above her head bouncing, she feels hands slipping the dark bandana back across her eyes, tying it behind her neck. Fingers pressing between her lips, spreading, forcing her mouth to painfully stretch, she grunts for breath.

‘Thwack!’

“Aggggrr…….. Glug!…. Mmmuuummphhh!” The crisp, instantaneous pain across her left breast, the nipple flattening, the sensation of a hot, thick shaft ramming across her tongue, forcing itself deep into her throat, the salty taste, the simultaneous sensation of her vagina stretched, fingers digging into the moist slit, her body reflexively jerks, twists on the mattress as she feels her contorting body dragged downwards by her spread legs.

‘Thwack!’

“Humph!” The searing pain pulses through her right breast, the tip of her nipple while the cock rams in ever deeper, past her tonsils as she gags, grunts for air. The music raises another decibel, the pace quickening as her naked body rocks on the bed, more hands gripping at her breasts, twisting, melding. Even more hands gripping her thighs, spreading, tugging at them in opposite directions, she can only grunt, accept the abuse.

‘Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!... Thwack!’ Back and forth, the feel of the leather alternating rips across her flailing globes, flattens, contorts the tit flesh while her stretched lips grip the pulsing shaft jamming back and forth inside her gasping throat. The lack of breath burning at her lungs, the swaying scrotum slapping, flattening across her flailing nostrils, she gasps for breath as she interlocks her fingers behind her neck. Legs spread wider, she feels her gapping vagina being penetrated with another, even larger shaft plunging inward, dragging across her stretching clit, engulfing her in a single, harsh thrust.

“Aaaaaggggghhhh!... Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!!”

Wrists grabbed firmer, ankles grabbed firmer, her hands and feet spread harshly apart, the duel penetration corresponding, continuing in rhythm while her naked body bounces, arches across the creaking mattress, her welted bare breasts spreading, swaying above her bowing torso. Seconds passing into minutes, allowed an occasional breath in between, the cock finally slides outward from her mouth, just the swollen crown remaining between her parted lips. The rhythm of the penetration between her spread thighs also slowing as she gasps for air, the strokes becoming longer but gentler thrusts in and out, in and out, she feels the grips on her wrists and ankles loosening, released, then gripped by the strong hands of the men mounting her.

Finally able to momentarily breathe, still trembling, arching, hazily glancing upward in the blackness of the cloth mask, she’s unable to see the swollen cock pulsing between her lips, the purplish veins exposed beneath the glistening, stretching foreskin. Feeling the sensation of the other cock burrowing inside her lifting firmly upwards, pressing beneath her pubic bone, gliding across her flattening clit, slowly but firmly stroking back and forth in deep, measured plunges, in the darkness she reflexively flexes her hips in rhythm to the penetrating motion.

The soft music still in rhythm with the duel strokes, the taste of the salty fluid oozing across her flicking tongue, she finds herself beginning to suck on the thick shaft, licking, probing the eyelet as her rasping breathes become quieter grunts, moans. Fingers clenching, toes curling, chest arching upwards, her thoughts of the onlookers become a haze, the depth of the penetrating cock pressing against her womb becoming enjoyable, even exhilarating as the upper side of the thick shaft grinds across, drags at her responding clit.

“Ooommmpphh!... Uuummmpphh!” The stirring deep inside, the sensations of the duel penetrations consume her; stimulate her as she moans with each forced breath. Her nipples aching, hard and puckered as she forces her chest even higher, she realizes she yearns for the sensation of the lash across her tit flesh as she twists, lifts upwards, feels her breasts swaying as she offers them to the crop. Grunting, she shakes her firm mounds back and forth, offering them to the crop.

‘Thwack!’

“Oomph!” The sensation of the crop flicking across her left globe, just below her nipple brings an appreciative moan as she’s somehow pleased by the responding lashing, the exhilarating pain.

‘Thwack!’ The sound of a not so light and well placed flick above the nipple echoes.

“Oomph!” Another responding moan as she sucks, licks harder, arches her hips toward the penetrating cock between her twitching thighs. Twisting, arching her other breast outward, she clenches her fingers around the gripping hands, strains her neck to suck in the throbbing crown between her teeth as she waits for the leather to strike that offered breast, hopefully across the throbbing nipple.

‘Thwack!’

“Ooohhh!” Her hollowing stomach flexing, churning, her engulfed vagina in spasms gripping at the throbbing shaft impaling her, she feels the rippling of her abs along with the instantaneous heat of the lash spreading throughout her breast as she again jaunts her firm globe upward.

‘Thwack!”

“Oooommmppphh!” Another flick, directly across the hardened nub of her nipple brings a reflexive quiver of her naked body, an appreciative response as she grates her teeth, nibbles across the cock’s eyelet engulfing her yawning mouth. Shaking, arching upwards, back bowing, she moans while swallowing, sucking as much of the thick shaft as she can deep down into her throat while she feels the slap of the hot, moist scrotum across her face. Instantly flexing her hips, forcing that burrowing cock ramming inward even deeper between her spreading thighs, that scrotum slapping between her butt cheeks as the throbbing crown of that shaft presses firmly against her womb, she feels the shudders, the rumbling of the beginning of an explosion from deep inside.

“Aaaaaaaaaaaaaaagggggggggghhhhhhhh!!!... Aaaaaaaaaggggggghhhhhh!!!” Grunting, twisting, her naked body uncontrollably bouncing on the mattress, her fingernails dig into the hands gripping her wrists as she arches, bucks, sucks. “Aaaaaaaagggggggghhhhh!”

The shaft throbbing in her mouth rams deeper, twitches, pulses, gushes. The salty fluid spurting in torrents, flows down her throat, gagging her, muffling her grunts as the other swollen cock also throbs, pulses, spurts, spurts again between her trembling thighs bringing more grunts, moans as her hips tremble, her stomach ripples, her grunts echo. “Oooooooommmmmmppphhh!... Aaaaaggggghhhhhhhhh!”

Consumed by the pair of throbbing cocks, the incredible sex, still arching her back, trembling as she senses her wrists, ankles being released, she feels the semi hard shafts slowly sliding outward, the gush of air sucking from her throat as the glistening crown flicks across her parted lips. Her hips still arched, that cock slipped from between her spread thighs, she slumps back across the dampening bedspread, stares hazily into the bandana.

“Ready for the next couple!... We’ve got a line forming!” The familiar voice next to the podium, she hears the sarcastic question while still in her darkened daze.

Feeling the bed rocking above her head, her wrists gripped, another thick shaft pressed against her upturned face, she feels hands tilting her head back as the pulsing crown presses between her parting lips, the familiar salty taste oozing across her tongue.

“Oomph!... Glub…. Humph!” Tongue flattening, lips stretching, she feels her thighs being spread, her ankles gripped as another hot, thick shaft glides into, stretches her vagina even wider then the previous cock. “Oooooommmmpppphhhh!”

End Part Two

LONNA …Part Three

Having endured, and actually enjoyed most of the treatment of her initial submissive experience at the fetish club, she’s agreed to allow herself to continue to take a submissive role over a prearranged extended weekend with her husband dropping her off in the country, to be under the tutelage of an appointed stranger assigned by the author.

Chapter One

Slowing, the car coming to a halt in front of the dirt drive, they glance at the address on the printed paper held in her hand, match the crooked numbers nailed to the aged three layered cross-tie gate a few feet in from the barbed wire fence line. Well off the main highway on the mostly gravel road, seemingly the middle of nowhere, the scrub brush, weeds overgrowing an old unplanted field with its uneven tree line and thicker underbrush at the base of a hill less then a hundred feet away, she’s the first to see the apparent hiker stepping out from the foliage.

Seeming to fit in with the surroundings, the rural area as he trudges toward the gate, she notices he’s wearing dark sunglasses and a disheveled bandana wrapped around his forehead with a scruffy, several day’s growth of beard to go with his shaggy black hair. Appearing to be thirty-something, a red and black plaid flannel shirt with sleeves ripped away reveals his muscular arms. Kaki trousers, tan boots and an overnight back pack topped off with a rolled up blanket make up the rest of his clothing. Momentarily taking her eyes from him, again glancing down toward the crinkling paper in her hand with the do’s and don’ts along with the address and general description of the man they’re to meet, it’s obvious the note must mean him. An instant uneasy feeling as she notice’s him waving a hand back and forth while acting somewhat irritated, cautiously opening their doors, exiting out into the oppressive, almost stagnated air; they step around toward the trunk of the dusty sedan as he approaches.

“I’ve been waiting… Hot as Hell out here today,” he nods, breaks the silence as he swats toward a couple hovering insects while placing a hand on the rusting metal wire holding the gate somewhat shut against the leaning fencepost. “Hope to hell she’s worth it!”

Glancing with curiosity toward one another as he shoves the rickety gate open, a crooked, weathered ‘NO TRESSPASSING’ sign hanging down by a bailing wire swaying back and forth as one end scrapes the ground, they remain silent per their rigid instructions on the note for neither one to speak in front him unless directed too, or she alone will be subjected to immediate punishment. Watching the hiker as he reaches into, grabs a length of rope, then re-adjusts his pack on his shoulders, she apprehensively waits as he again glances back toward them, the dust swirling from the rutted dirt road leading onto the barren property, the clumps of browning grass wavering in the heated breeze.

“Why the fuck ain’t she naked yet… Can’t you people read instructions?” his voice firm, a hint of a country drawl as he turns toward the husband, ignores her, his matting, bushy hair brushing across his sweat stained bandana as he raises a clenched hand. “Tell her to get those fucking clothes off!... I’ve brought everything she’ll need right here in this backpack… Everything… Starting with this here rope!”

Taken by his gruff sternness, not realizing she was supposed to be completely naked on arrival, not just without underwear, she senses a tensioning knot deep in the pit of her stomach as she again glances uneasily toward her husband, not sure if either of them should speak. Getting a barely noticeable nod of his head, almost reluctantly obeying, slipping her hands up across her white summer blouse already damp with perspiration, fumbling, she hesitantly begins unfastening the top buttons.

“Damn it!… Tell her I’ll rip those fucking clothes off her dumb ass if she don’t get them off quick… And I mean right fucking now!” he growls, “I want her bare ass naked before you leave her here with me!”

Again a pleading glance toward her husband as she struggles not to verbally respond, clumsily tugging her blouse open, she nervously slips the clinging material down across her bowing shoulders. Her bare breasts springing free, sway back and forth toward her sides as she nervously reaches down, unsnaps the button on her blue jean shorts while she awkwardly holds the ruffled blouse in her other hand. Slipping her white tennis shoes off one foot at a time with the backs of her bare heels, her dark ponytail swaying, hanging down off her shoulder, she unzips, wiggles the shorts back and forth, down off her dampening hips, stepping out one leg at a time barefoot in the hot dust.

“Tell her to drop ‘em down there in the fucking dirt,” he adds, his dark sunglasses scanning her up and down, adding to his intimidating persona as he waits for her to obey, unabashedly ogling her shimmering nakedness until the clothes drop down beside her bare feet.

Nude, already being pantyless and braless as instructed, she reflexively crosses her arms, covers the dark, wide areolas of her bare breasts as she feels the late afternoon sun beating down across her glistening shoulders, her clothes rumpled on the dusty ground.

“Tell her… Hands behind her back and to turn away from me.” Again his voice harsh, intense. “And she can quit fucking acting shy or embarrassed too… Fuck… She wouldn’t be here if she was… You know she can’t wait to feel my hands all over her body… Use her like a whore… Just like in those stories of his you both like so much.”

Taken aback by the hiker’s vulgar attitude, apprehensively following his directions without her husband needing to repeat them, turning and inquisitively nodding toward her husband still silently standing beside the car, a part of her hoping he’ll just go ahead and speak up, call the whole thing off, she feels a firm hand on her wrists gripping, drawing her hands back, close together with palms apart. The harshness of the twine rope digging into her wrists, jerking, forcing her shoulders to arch back as her naked breasts separate, bounce with each tug, glancing at her fiancé she can’t help but barely mutter ‘fuck!’ under her breath as she can hear the hiker grunting while he ties the double, triple knots.

“Take her clothes with you… She won’t be needing ‘em any more… Now get the fuck out of here.” Again he speaks directly to the husband, ignoring her. “And… By the way… Get on that computer of yours when you get back home for a little present just for you… It’s an agenda so you can read what I’m doing with this cunt once we hit those woods… I guarantee you it’ll have you jacking off!... Anyway… It should be posted already… And for that matter… The next chapter will be posted tomorrow morning with the last chapter the next day.… Like a private little story for you to get off on while she’s gone.”

Twisting her around by her roped wrists, another lewd glance at her bare breasts already glistening, beading with perspiration, he finally addresses her, ‘’Okay Cunt… Follow me close or I’ll drag you along by those fucking tits you’ve been trying to tease me with!” Again glancing toward the husband next to the car as he swings the broken gate back open, its bottom rail dragging in a rut, he nods for her to step through, scolds him, “What the fuck… What’cha waiting for?... I said pick up her damn clothes… Get back in that fucking car… And get your ass back down that road!... Don’t you people listen either?”

Shutting the gate behind them, adjusting his backpack, the hiker steps in front of her, loops a length of rope across her neck before gripping a hand on each strap across his chest. Turning with head down, he nods, mutters, “Stay up bitch… Keep those tits real close behind me or I’ll just tie ‘em up and drag you along by ‘em… Anyways… It’s fucking hot out here… I wanna’ get to that shade under those trees yonder so I can ram my cock in that pretty mouth of yours!”

Clumsily picking up her clothes and shoes, steeping around his car to the driver’s door, the husband continues to watch in silence as the pair begins to retrace the steps through his flattened path of weeds across the field. Catching a glimpse of her frightened widening eyes, the rope stretching from her neck with each uneven step, the expression of apprehension covers her face as she seems to be pleadingly staring back. Getting back inside his car, the motor still idling, he feels the coolness of the circulating air as he drops it into drive, again glances toward the sun baked field before he begins to slowly pull forward to find a place to turn around. Tossing her clothes on the passenger seat, watching the two beginning to make their way not so slowly toward the woods, the guy trudging along in front, his backpack shielding his upper body, she’s obviously struggling, almost a stumbling kind of jog behind the stretching rope, her bare feet scrapping across the crisp blades of burnt grass, the uneven ground of the long ago plowed field.

Pulling forward, turning the car on a widening surface of the gravel road, backing, driving back out toward the gate, he slows the car as he can’t help himself from watching them already half way across the field, she still awkwardly following, her bare flesh surreally contrasting with the hiker’s clothing and the rural surroundings. Heart pounding with anticipation as he stares out across the scrub brush, he wonders what she’s really facing once they hit the woods, or what the agenda’s going to be when he pulls it up on the web site.

Allowing the car to barely roll forward, he remains fixated on the sight of her naked body following the hiker across the old plowed ruts, ever closer to the trees, her head down in concentration as she struggles for balance. Her dark ponytail spreading, brushing back and forth between her bare shoulder blades while her roped hands interlock into clenching fists barely shielding the crease of her butt cheeks, he can make out the rounded silhouettes of her globular breasts randomly swaying, bouncing outwards from her sides as her shoulders arch back, her elbows just inches from touching one another. Watching the hiker stop and turn at the corner of the field, dropping the backpack off his shoulders while obviously glancing back toward the gate, he sees her barely hesitating at his side, appearing to give an obeying nod, then continuing past him a step or two only to turn and kneel down just outside the edge of the tree line.

Not able to ignore his own euphoric and yet narcissist feelings, the excitement of what’s already happened with her, the anticipation of what she’s about to be subjected too on the edge of those woods, he notices the hiker stepping in front of her, jerking the leader rope off from around her neck, begin wrapping it around her breasts. Obviously keeping to his threat to her, twisting and jerking, looping the rope, even from across the field he can see her breasts bulging, her head twisting back and forth above her bound arms behind her as he finishes binding the ropes with his fists.

Watching the hiker resting one hand on her shoulder, undoing his trousers, forcing her face toward his crotch, he sees him staring back over across the field with what appears to be a somewhat angry wave with his other, obviously a motion to leave. Dropping the shifter into drive, the dust swirling behind his car as he steps on the throttle, losing sight of the field, he drives away leaving her kneeling on the ground in front of him. Not much imagination needed to realize what he’s doing with her now, much less for the next few days, the thoughts also of the computer at home, he can’t wait to find out what the agenda’s going to reveal.

The more then an hour drive home, heading directly to the computer, the e-mail does in fact have new updates. Eagerly scrolling down, finding the right one, he quickly clicks to open it. Scrolling, reading the familiar style of the author, and like advised, almost in a story like fashion, he’s struck by the immediately intense, harsh descriptions of the treatment of Lonna, his wife. Reading it, realizing if the agenda’s being followed, she was immediately sodimized on the very edge of the woods even as he was still driving away. Then, still bound, made to walk in front of the hiker into the overgrowth of the hills, to forge a path through the underbrush for him with her naked body, obviously including her unprotected and bound bare breasts. He can vividly visualize her ordeal as he continues to read, especially with the arousing thoughts of his actual last sight of her being made to kneel naked on the edge of the woods still imprinted in his memory.

Reading further, an obscure campsite described, roughly hewed tree branches tied together, the description of her being hung, strapped by her ankles upside down near the campfire for the evening, the vivid details of her constant torment’s arousing, incredible. Sitting in front of the computer, imagining her pain, her humiliation and fear of being in those woods alone with that stranger while being repeatedly sexually abused, physically tortured as the storyline continues has him aroused, transfixed on the monitor as the lengthy, initial part of the storyline continues up to the next morning, and stops.

Chapter Two

Just a couple hours away from the comfort and sanctuary of her own home, painfully swaying back and forth naked, the leather straps chaff at her ankles high above her while she slowly twists away from the flickering campfire. Close enough to feel the spreading heat of the smoldering ambers spreading around its unkempt base; she feels the ends of her unraveling ponytail brushing across the dirt beneath her. Teeth indenting a stripped piece of the gnawed birch, the ends tied with twine to behind her neck, her back bowing, her glistening breasts separate as the dark nipples hang down above her chin.

Shoulders throbbing, wrists still bound together with her arms arched back, she’s been alone for the better part of an hour, past dusk. Insects buzzing, naked body bathed in sweat, she’s already been the recipient of more then a few itching welts from Chiggers, mosquitoes feasting on her glistening flesh. The contrasting heat of the fire on one side of her, the chilling dampness of the evening air on the other spreads across her naked body as she’s suspended, twists in her bindings.

Her mind swirls with overwhelming thoughts of not knowing what the outcome of this prearranged excursion’s going to be, about what’s actually in store for her next, about being abandoned by her husband for the long weekend, about being subjected to the all too realistic brutal treatment by the hiker already. All in all, the past few hours have been an endless blur of pain and sexual abuse with every orifice already penetrated, cummed in, her bare flesh crisscrossed with scrapes from almost countless briar patches and flexing branches. Also being hung naked upside down in the hot sun for most of the day, all have left her exhausted, but somehow, a part of her way deep down, undeniably anticipates, even craves more humiliation, and more sexual abuse.

Hearing the footsteps crackling the underbrush, the darkened silhouette of his form approaching from the hillside, she watches as he kneels beside the fire, tosses on some broken branches, stirs the flickering flames with a piece of a stripped tree limb. The ambers glowing, the sparks flittering upward with the mingling smoke, the smoldering heat of the fire again spreads across her bare flesh, her outthrust breasts as he toys with the branch, blows on the glowing charred end.

“Time to trim back that little patch of cunt hair,” he speaks, still looking toward the end of the glowing branch. “Not much there… But that’s okay… This’ll burn ’em off without much pain if you’re lucky!”

Eyes widening, staring unbelievingly at him standing, stepping toward her, she feels the pounding in her chest as she reflexively twists, tries to turn, press her thighs together. Her thoughts instantly changing to stark terror, frantically wanting to go home, feeling a thigh gripped, her body rotated, she pleadingly grunts through the chunk of gnawed wood, vigorously shakes her head back and forth, absolutely not expecting such harsh, dangerous treatment.

“You’ve gotta’ choice,” he growls, “Spread those fucking legs for me… Or I’ll ram the burning end of this damn stick down that cunt of yours and leave it till it goes out!”

Terrified by his threat, her face brushing across his thigh, she coughs, spittle spewing across her cheeks and forehead as the trail of saliva drips from her trembling lips. Her knees quivering, her stomach ripples as she forces her legs to jerkily part revealing her slit, less then a week’s worth of cropped pubic hair. Nearly hysterical, yet unable to bring herself to close her eyes, even to glance away from the smoldering end of the smoking stick, she frantically watches as he lowers his hand, allows the burnt end to flick quickly but firmly across a nipple.

“Oomph!” Feeling the heated end of the branch brush across her bare flesh, the sparks of the burning amber flickering as her breast bounces, she grunts past the wooden gag pressed between her lips as she reflexively jerks, twists.

“Hey!... I can shove this stick flat against a tit and hold it there a lot longer… if I want,” he threatens, “Yea… I guess you know by now this ain’t the fucking game you thought it was going to be… Is it cunt?”

“Uh huh!... Uh huh!!” Head jerking back and forth, her body twisting a half circle, eyes wide, the momentary sensation of the flickering ashen covered stick scraping across her breast has her again terrified, the thought of being burned, of being scarred, absolutely unimaginable as she whines. “Oomph!... Oomph!”

“That was just a little scrap across that tit… Here now… Let’s be a little more serious with the other!... Same fucking deal… It goes in that cunt… Or stick that damn tit out here… Right now!”

Feeling his free hand twisting her around by her thigh, glaring toward the smoldering stick being sadistically pressed upwards toward her thighs, arching her back, reflexively thrusting out her other breast, she feels the smoldering surface of the stick flatten her nipple as she’s held firm.

“Aaaaggghhh!” Gagging, slobbering as she again jerks her head back and forth, feeling the mounting heat spreading across her areola, smelling the acrid aroma of her own flesh searing, she can’t help from locking her gaze on the stick pressing into her tit flesh. Feeling the stick being lifted back after just a brief, but seemingly endless split second, her flesh momentarily adhering to the ambers, she again grunts, bucks. “Umph… Agghhhh!”

Holding the stick upright, stepping back toward the fire, he pushes the smoldering tip deep into the burning ambers, stirs the flickering flames. Glancing back at the sight of her body twisting, swaying, the hint of a wisp of smoke smoldering from her breast, he allows for the tip of the branch to flicker, to rekindle. Another stir or two, lifting the branch from the fire, he inspects the freshly glowing end, steps toward her.

“Now… A little tip so you better listen real good to me… The secret’s to keep your legs spread,” he offers, as he holds the branch a foot or so above her spread slit. “If you struggle, let your legs jerk together, your thighs and pussy will probably adhere to the burning wood!... Understand?”

“Ooooommmmpppphhhh!... Ooommmppphhh!” Rocking back and forth, eyes welling, tears flowing, trying to plead with her pathetic animalistic grunts for him to stop, to let her go, seeing the flickering flame being held up between her glistening legs, she just knows this ain’t suppose to be happening. “Uumph!” Wrists twisting at the chaffing ropes, knees barely being bowed apart, raising her clammy body upwards, the heat already warms her quivering thighs as she glares toward the twitching, glowing branch in his outstretched hand.

“Take a moment… Get ready,” he antagonizes her as he reaches out, lifts the heated end out past her glistening butt cheeks between her spreading thighs, lets the unburnt part of the branch press down between the shimmering, moist folds of her labium. “Now… Hold fucking still!... Don’t move!”

Craning her neck back, staring toward the ground as she inhales, holds her breath, she feels the harshness of the branch starting to slide between the puffy folds of her labium, the heat of the smoldering last few inches of burning wood dragging across the crease of her quivering buttocks. Feeling it slowly scraped across her parting slit, the nub of her clit as her body uncontrollably trembles, then uncontrollably jerks, she bites into the gnawed wood between her teeth, squints, tightly closes her eyes as she feels the rough branch sliding forward, the scorching trail finally spreading across the narrow swath of her closely cropped pubic hair.

“Umph!... Uummpphh!... Uuummmppphhh!” Legs quivering, stomach trembling, the pain’s all too real, just not as intense as she should expect. Again the thoughts ripping through her mind of being burnt, scarred, maimed, she still struggles not to allow her legs to jerk, press together against the burning branch. “Uuuummmmpppphhhh!” The pain centered from her rectum, tracing to her navel, she feels his hand releasing her thigh, the sense of him stepping back as she again slowly twists, rocks, waiting, anticipating the pain to mount.

Eyes blinking open, watching him already next to the fire pit, dropping the better part of the branch in, her emotions are mixed. Relieved the branch is being burned up, still aguishly anticipating the initial pain to escalate between her legs; she focuses on keeping her knees parted, not to allow what must be her blistered flesh to press together. Slightly twisting, swaying in a small arc, she barely realizes he’s stepping away, making his way to the small tent on the other side of the dying fire, leaving her to hang by herself all night, naked, terrified.

Chapter Three

Well past midnight, reading the explicate agenda in some places three, four times, he sits in front of the computer screen with the unique realization he can visualize his wife being abused by the author’s descriptions playing out like an actual story, a play by play of what she’s being subjected too, his own private story as a reward for submitting her. Knowing his wife’s psyche, realizing what she’s being subjected too, possibly at this very moment even, again just the thoughts, the visualizing of her being used and abused is almost as good as the sex he’ll have with her when she returns.

A couple paragraphs, explicitly detailed situations seem to jump out at him. Even the crude, backwoods ways of abusing her with rope and fire excites him although probably to most others, they’d just be repeats of countless other not very original, nor very imaginable storylines. Scrolling back up the screen, finding his spot, he again reads about the hiker carving short branches, affixing them to her bare breasts, deep onto her areolas as she’s suspended by her ankles, tying the ends of the twigs until her nipples bulge, the exposed nubs swollen. Continuing on, he reads of the same treatment being applied to her clit, clamped just as tight, just adding to the pain that the smoldering branch left, yet in reality actually no more then slightly singeing the flesh between her thighs.

Imagining what’s going through her mind at this very moment, how vulnerable, frightened she is, he glances further down the screen as he reflexively reaches between his spreading thighs. Finding the paragraph describing the hiker kneeling behind her, he continues to read as he begins to stroke his swollen shaft. Fascinated, he again reads the part word for word where the hiker’s untying her mouth gag, dropping it to the ground, lifting her arms upwards until her hands brush across her buttocks, forcing her head to crane back by gripping her ponytail, then ramming his cock into her throat as he reaches around, grips the twigs clamping her nipples, twisting, tugging back, her breasts stretching around her sides as her naked body bows, twists from the creaking rope burrowing into her ankles as she’s deep-throated.

Visualizing that this sequence could be happening to her at this very moment, imagining the hiker rutting back and forth, his cock burrowing past her spread lips, his scrotum brushing across her nose, smacking across her eyes as her naked body contorts in his grasp, he feels the churning in the pit of his own stomach, strokes his swollen shaft, fantasizing he’s the one throttling her.

On the verge of ejaculating, leaning back, he rests both hands across the keyboard, takes a deep breath. Fingering the mouse, scrolling down a little further, he relaxes a couple minutes, collects himself. The thoughts of their little games, the abuse she’s already succumbed too plays on his mind as he thinks how their games have evolved for her to be subjugated as a real sex slave for a number of days. He wonders just how far this game’s going to go. Then again, he can’t help thinking; it’s fucking exciting, especially with what she’s possibly in store for tomorrow… And the next!

Chapter Four

Wet and cold, exhausted, the campfire all but out she feels the moisture dripping, crisscrossing, streaking down across her naked flesh as she blinks, tries to open her swollen eyes. Confused, dazed, still swaying upside down, the chewed branch jammed between her lips, she slowly tilts her head forward, glances up toward the twigs clamped across her aching nipples, cold dew dripping from the tightly bound ends. Glancing across the smoldering pit toward the small tent, she sees the first sign of light through the trees in the background as the sun’s rising. The slightest movement of her arms like electric shocks, her ankles raw, her nipples and clit numb, she grunts though the gag as she tries to somehow block the aches and pains, to try to twist into some sort of position to relieve the torment.

‘Smack!’

“Oomph!” Grunting, spinning, the sensation of her butt cheek being smacked from behind, she feels her thigh gripped as she’s forced to hold still.

‘Splash!’

“Aaaagggrrrhhh!!” The sensation of icy water pouring between her thighs, splashing across her naked body, streaking down her quivering flesh overwhelms her as her body’s immediately drenched by the pitcher of cold creek water. “Ooommmppphhh!”

“Later this afternoon you’ll be begging for that,” he smirks as he kneels in front of her, unties the chewed gag, drops it in the quickly forming pool of mud beneath her head. “But for now… I need to take a piss.”

Shirtless, muscular and tanned, his bare chest glistens as he stands back upright. Just allowed a quick glimpse, even in her exhausted state and antagonizing position the thought flashes through her mind that he doesn’t appear to be the typical backwoods individual he presented himself as in the field.

Gripping the back of her head by her ponytail, forcing the crown of his semi-erect cock between her lips, arching forward, he cups a hand across her ear, begins relieving himself. Glancing down, another smirk as the urine gurgles, gushes from her mouth, he quips, “You don’t need to swallow if you don’t want too… But if you don’t try… I’m just going to leave those nipples and that burnt clit of yours clamped until I have to piss again.”

Glancing down, feeling her head try to twist away as she gags, gurgles, he continues to drain his cock, watches the urine pouring down off her face, mix with the mud beneath her head. “Not this time huh?” He again smirks as he pulls back, stands.

Jerking, twisting, the acrid taste and smell of his urine covering her lips, bubbling from her upturned nostrils, gagging as she struggles to catch her breath, she feels herself rotating, rocking from the creaking rope swaying from the tree limb above her. Wet, cold, nauseated, all mixed with the sickening sensation of hanging upside down for hours and hours; she feels her stomach knotting, churning, her abs rippling as her throat burns, unable to block the regurgitation gushing from deep inside.

“Blllaaaaaaahhhh!….. Bllllaaaaaahhhh!” Vomit spewing; splashing across the wet ground, again gagging, again her body contorting in the swaying rope, she again vomits. “Blllaaahhhh!”

‘Splash!’

“Aaaggghhh!”

Another pitcher of cold water again gushing down across her naked flesh, she again gags, jerks and twists as the muddy puddle beneath her widens. “Oomph!”

Tossing the pitcher aside, noticing the Goosebumps crossing her bare flesh, he opens his backpack, retrieves a spool of twine. Stepping back toward her, looping, tying an end between her nipple and its makeshift clamp, he stretches out a couple feet of the string, snips it off with his pocket knife. Another loop of string for her other breast, the strand hangs down past her face as he quickly slips a tie knot to its center. Stepping back, flipping the spool across a hanging branch well above his head, he catches it, begins tugging.

Feeling herself twisting, her breasts stretching, she stares toward his backside as he continues to tug, stretch the string across the thick branch. Arching forward face up, her weight dragging on her stretching breasts, each tug jerks her a little higher, her head lifting upwards from the ground.

“Oomph!... Aggghhh!”… Aggghhhh!” Each tug bringing another grunt, her body jerking, twisting as her head tilts back, her breasts throb, the nipples searing with pain as the burrowing wood clamps grip ever deeper into her stretching tit flesh.

Stretched, stretched, yet another stretch of twine and he watches until her flexing fingers can just barely touch the dirt as she arches her arms back and downward, grapples for the ground with her bound, clutching hands. Tying the string off to the base of the tree, he steps beside her, slides a hand back and forth across her wet bare stomach, her torso on the incline, her head hanging back.

“Let’s let you dry off some… The sun’s coming up,” he drawls as he flicks her ponytail with his other hand, “It’s going to be another hot one.” Glancing down toward her pubic mound, her slit, seeing the flesh just reddened a tinge, no real lasting marks since her cunt was so damp when he dragged the burning stick lightly across it the past night, he antagonizes her anyway, making her think its much worse then it actually is. “Looks like there’ll going to be some real blistering going on down there,” he lies, “Probably going to hurt like hell when I fist fuck you later.”

Giving a pat on her hollowing stomach, a flick of the twine stretching outward from her stretching breasts, he steps over to the fire pit, scuffs dirt across the remaining ambers with the heel of his boot. Retrieving his shirt, slipping it on before his backpack, adjusting the pack across his shoulders, he glances back toward her arms bowed back, her hands grappling into the dirt beneath her as she struggles to keep the weight of her suspended body from stretching her breasts. Slipping on his sunglasses, stepping past the tent, he scoffs, “Got business to attend too… I guess you’ll be hanging around waiten’ ‘till I get back… Then another couple days of fun.”

Entering the trail, glancing back toward her contorting body, figuring he’ll finally cut her down from her suspension when he gets back, wondering how much of the story her husband’s read, he’s satisfied with her scheduled torments so far, knowing that he’s got her for another couple full nights to follow the storyline, actually his story line that they so much wanted him, their favorite author, to conjure up for them. After all, this tale could take in dozens of chapters before its conclusion.

End Part Three

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