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<pre>
  Subject: STORY  "A Day in the Park" (NC, S&M, M/f, Long, Repost)
  Keywords: NC nonconsent rape torture M/f repost Long



Warning: The following contains nonconsensual bondage and
torture. Please do not continue reading if this offends you.
And please take this warning seriously.

Disclaimer: the following does not portray actual BDSM conduct


-----------------------------------------------------------------------
A Day in the Park
by
SD

Patricia didn't seem very happy with the arrangements for our
scene.  "You don't seem very pleased, PV," I asked, "aren't
things to your liking ?"  "No, they most certainly aren't", she
replied.  "And I came all this way to set it up for you.  Well,
after all this trouble, we may as well play it out as we agreed and
see how you like it", I said.  Patricia got quite indignant,"This
is NOT what I agreed to!"  "Whatever do you mean, my dear ?  I
said we would meet in the park, then have dinner, and begin our
play the next morning.  You seemed satisfied with that".  "THAT'S
NOT WHAT YOU DID.  YOU HAD TWO THUGS KIDNAP ME AND DUMP ME IN
THE DESERT !"  She did seem a bit agitated, I thought.
"Patricia, we're in a national park, I did meet you here, we just
had dinner - you really should eat something - and early tomorrow
we start to play".  She just glared at me.  "Release me NOW, take
me back to the city, and never show your face in California again
or I'll have you arrested", she sputtered.  That was cute.  I
like resistance, so long as it doesn't succeed.  "Patricia, I have
letters agreeing to meet for a weekend of bondage play, you let
some of your friends know you would be acting out a scene this
weekend, and you've gone on record as liking to resist your top.
I don't think that you would have a case, even if you did file
charges, but you're not going to do that", I explained patiently.
Quite impatiently she responded - she really needs to develop
some discipline, I got here just in time - "I'M GOING TO SEE YOU
PUT IN SAN QUE-ughh".  I'd had quite enough of that, and shoved a
nice penis gag in her mouth.  We couldn't have her disturbing the
quiet of the desert night with her histrionics.  If she didn't
want to eat the stew I'd made her, that was her problem.  After
all, it would have been very simple to just bend over and lick it
off the plate.  I made certain that the knots restraining her wrists
and elbows and ankles were still snug, then knotted her hair and
tied it to a stake driven into the ground.  "Good night, Patricia,
we'll start early tomorrow", I said.  She responded at length and
with feeling, but "mrrrrr" gets a little boring after awhile, so I
went to sleep.

I rolled out of my bedroll just before dawn, refreshed and
anxious to start playing.  Patricia didn't appear to have slept
well; the sand under her looked like she'd spent the night
tossing and turning.  "A little restless, Patricia ?  Well, we'll
burn off some of that pent up energy".  Speaking of energy, I'd
better get that toy.  There it was.  "I'm sure you know what this
is, Patricia, but just in case you've never felt one...", I said,
before I poked her arms with the cattle prod.  Even through her
shirt the effect was impressive, as she suddenly stretched out
and her whole body shook for a moment - the action of her
breast's was great - then just lay there sweating.  I knew she
wouldn't have any fight in her right that minute, so I untied her
and got the camera ready.  Patricia was getting herself together,
rubbing her wrists and ankles and thigh.  "Don't think about
doing anything without orders, slave - from now on you're a slave
and I'll use you as I wish.  Your safeword is "Yes" - as long as
you say that word you'll be safe", I told her.  I always like the
sound of that, even if it's not true.  After judging that she was
almost back to normal - alright, so in most people's eyes neither
one of us had been anywhere near normal in a long time, but she
had all her facilities again - I said "On your feet, slave.  Now
get out of all your clothes or you get the prod on your clit".
At first she looked pretty defiant, but that last part got
through to her. She stood up and began to strip of her clothes. I
got it all on tape.  "Turn around nice and slow, slave. Nice.
Open your legs more.  Wonderful.  Just a little momento of our
time together, dear. Of course, should there be any legal
proceedings this tape will be played in court lots of times", I
told her.  "I'm doing this under duress", she said.  "Granted", I
told her,"but the cattleprod wasn't in the frame while you were
stripping, and your proud determination not to let me see that I
was hurting you or to give me any kind of show made that a very
matter-of-fact performance.  It won't look like the action of a
terrorized woman. That pride of your's can get you hurt; at
least, that's what I'm counting on". I rummaged through one of
the duffelbags.  "Of course, being proud doesn't mean being
stupid.  You're going to be naked all day, and it's going to be a
scorcher.  There's not a cloud in the sky, so you're going to
cook without sunblock.  I just happen to have some, you want it ?",
I asked.  "Yes," she said holding out a hand to receive it.
"Uh-Uh, slave.  Hands behind you".  She caught the meaning of
that, and said "I'd rather roast than have your hands on me".  I
smiled and said, "As you wish.  But understand that I'm going do
go ahead with my plans regardless of what you do, and you'll
probably die if you don't get what protection you can".  She
thought a bit, then looked down and put her hands behind her.  It
was so sweet.  I cuffed her wrists together and put ankle
restraints on her and got the sun block and began rubbing it all
over her. Since her buttocks and breasts and crotch got so much
less sun than the rest of her, those areas of course required
special treatment. As the process began her face was hard and
cold, but as the eigth or ninth coat was being applied to her
pussy I could see her lips shaking a bit. I made certain that the
sunblock got inside her pussy lips - after all, I planned to
spread them today - and she didn't try to withdraw from my
probing finger. Reaching around her to apply yet another coat to
her buns brought her close up against me and I could feel her
trembling.  When I gently massaged another layer onto her breasts
her composure broke completely and she let out a moan.  I pulled
her close and let my hands run all over her.  She was now excited
enough that my touch anywhere was arousing.  Still standing very
close, I began very softly applying the block to the one dry part
of her body, her face, softly brushing her forehead and cheeks
and chin, then holding her head gently between my hands I kissed
her mouth, first just brushing her lips oh so softly then kissing
her slightly harder, but still softly, and keeping up this
pattern of miniscule increases in pressure and duration until she
pushed forward and kissed me hard and greedily... then I shoved
her away and on her hobbled ankles she fell backwards and landed
hard on her rear.  "YOU FUCKING BASTARD !" she cried.  "If there
were any fucking involved, I don't think you'd be so mad right
now", I replied.

I went back to my duffelbags.  "I hope you won't mind,
Patricia, but while you were being dragged off the street , I
broke into your house and found these", I said as I pulled out a
pair of pumps with very high spiked heels.  The shoes you were
wearing were nice, but a bit too practical for my plans".  I
pulled her to her feet and removed the handcuffs.  "Put these
on", I ordered.  "I will like hell - AHHH".  A tap of the prod to
her ribs knocked her down and took her breath away. It had an
adjustable charge and I'd turned the power down a litte, since it
wouldn't be much fun if she were too sore to move before we even
got started, but it hurt plenty.  As she sat holding her ribs and
shooting lasers at me with her eyes, I tossed the shoes to her.
"Hey, I like the way this is going so far.  Please keep that
stubborn streak for a while longer".  She put the shoes on.
"Stand up and turn around".  She stood up and turned around.
This was getting tame, but I was sure she'd pick her time and act
when she was ready.  I wasn't quite so sure that I would be ready
when she did, but that was what was had made this such an
exciting fantasy as I conceived it, the fact it was open-ended
and anything could happen.  I put the heaviest duffelbag on her
then handcuffed her wrists behind her, shoved a nice big ball gag
in her mouth with considerable difficulty, which meant it was
just the right size, and replaced the short chain between her
padded ankle cuffs with a 14" chain. "Just so you don't get any
ideas about kicking me, slave", I told her as I closed the
padlocks. "Let's go for a walk", I said, gesturing with the
cattle prod and bringing the tip of it a fraction of an inch from
her right nipple as I did, "that way".

I wasn't sure how far we'd gone.  It was nearly noon and we'd
been walking since six.  The pace was comfortable enough for me
but Pat had been having problems for the last few hours, and our
progress was frequently halted as she lost her footing and fell.
Waiting for her to make it back up had become irritating and I'd
been helping her up with strokes across the ass from my cane,
which had also proven to be a requirement to keep her moving.  She
grunted a lot and if looks could kill I'd be dead, but looks don't
hurt and a hard piece of wood lashing her bare buttocks did, so
she kept those high heels going forwards.  It was very hot and I
had been sweating a lot, so at least her falls gave me a chance
to take a swig from the canteen.  It wasn't that I needed the
water or anything - hell, I could do this all day, really, I could -
but taking the canteen off her neck where it was normally carried
lightened her load so she could get up.  This looked like a likely
spot, far from the road and through enough rocky and sandy
passages to be pretty certain no dirtbikes or offroad vehicles
would showup.  It was so remote that a number of tall cacti were
there unmolested, and the surrounding miles so desolate that few
hikers or campers would ever come there.  We wouldn't be
interrupted here. "OK, slave, sit and rest", I said.  I then
proceeded to take all the gear off Patricia.  A couple of hours
ago I'd figured out where on Patricia I could drape the second
duffelbag, along with most of what I'd been carrying, except for
the cane, cattleprod, and what fit on my belt, which included the
keys to her restaints.

I set up camp, then attended to the slave.  Taking off her pumps,
I saw that she hadn't suffered any lasting damage, though I don't
think so could have gone much further.  That suited me, since
if she managed to get loose I didn't want her going far.  Of
course she was thirsty. Probably hungry, too, since she didn't
eat any dinner, but it would be a long time before Patricia would
be hungry enough for the hunger to subvert her will.  Thirst would
work a lot sooner. I took a nice long drink while she watched.
"Oh, pardon my manners, would you like some ?", I asked.  She
just glared at me. Well, it would work eventually, though I
decided now that I'd have to be careful to see to it that she got
some fluids, this woman just might be proud and stubborn enough
to end up dehydrated if she would have to earn her water from me,
which had been my intention.  Now that I knew what a tough
customer she was, my plans would have to be a bit more fluid, so
to speak.

After I'd set up the tent, which I would need for shelter from
the sun, there were six stakes left over, so I staked Patricia
out spreadeagle.  The two extra stakes were placed near her head.
I removed the ball gag, which had done it's job well, and
Patricia couldn't get her jaw working immediately, which gave me
time to insert two loops inside her mouth and fasten them to the
stakes on either side of her head before she started telling me off.
I sort of liked it when she did tell me off, but I wanted her to 
stay frustrated.  Now she couldn't move her head, and though she
could make lots of noise - something she wasted no time in proving -
she wasn't getting out much that was intelligible. I proceeded to
thoroughly explore my prize. I ran my fingers along the inside of
her thighs.  There was just enough slack for me to see her legs
jerk at my touch.  I skipped over her groin and began making
little patterns on her stomach and pinching her sides.  I
hopefully tickled her belly and sides, without result.  "What a
pity you're not ticklish, PV".  I cupped her breasts and began to
rub them softly.  She pretended to ignore me, but she was
breathing hard. "Your nipples are so nice and hard, slave", I
said.  I fingered them softly, then harder.  "I love they way
they stand up", I said.  I squeezed each nipple hard between my
thumb and forefinger and pulled upwards until her breasts had
stretched as far as they would stretch and Patricia's shoulders
began to lift from the ground, but both of us were sweating and
she was screaming and squirmimg and she slipped out of my grasp.
I repeated the process a couple times with the same results. Her
nipples were still hard and erect.  "I REALLY love the way your
nipples stand up", I told her as I reached for my bag.  "Do you
know the Japanese proverb about the nail that stands up ?  By the
way, do you like Japanese bondage ?  Some wonderfully cruel and
imaginative ropework and suspensions in that stuff.  Anyway, we
won't hammer those pretty nips", I assured her, as I pulled out
the needle-nose pliers. "AGGHHGGH-NNNN-MMMM", she said when she
saw them.  I got a good grip on her left nipple and twisted it
hard.  "AAA-YYYYEEE-OOO", she said, her voice an octave or two
higher than before.  I twisted it again. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYY !".
Her face was getting red and I saw the beginning of a tear and I
just had to have it. I put the plier on her right nipple and gave
it a hard 360 degree turn. "EEEEEEEEEEEEOOOWWWWWYYYEEE-
-UGH-ARG-EHH-OOOH", exploded from her as her head jerked up and
her whole body contracted, all four limbs pulling hard against
their bonds while those precious tears began to trickle out.  I
reversed the pliers, adjusted my grip, and turned it 360, maybe
450 degrees around the other way. She was screaming and bucking,
her ass pounding the hard ground as she pulled at all the ropes.
Her fists were opening and closing as her wrists turned in the
ropes and she tried yanking them side to side when pulling them
straight in proved to no effect, but the stakes holding her
wrists didn't budge and the tears of pain and frustration were
pouring down her flushed face. I was enthralled by the show of
her red, wet face and heaving chest, and the arms flailing within
their narrow range of movement, so much so that I was shocked
when her heel hammered into the side of my knee. "OW!
SONOFABITCH!", I shouted as I rolled away and staggered to my
feet, limping about to walk off the pain.  I hoped I could walk
it off; if she'd broken something in my knee the chance of
walking out of this place was pretty thin.  I saw that she'd
pulled the stake holding her right leg out of the ground and was
trying to free the other leg.  Even if she got those strong legs
free it'd be hard for her to get up, since with her head staked
down she wouldn't be able to turn over so she could use them to
pull the arm stakes up, but I wouldn't be able to have much fun
with her then. I dove onto her right leg; it was twisting and
thrusting wildly like a loose high pressure hose, she got it
under me and thrust her knee into my crotch and I rolled free and
crawled away gasping for breath. I couldn't take much time to
recover, though, so I crawled over and got the cattleprod and,
still crawling, pushed it into the spot between and just below
her breasts.  She gasped loudly and convulsed, but kept
struggling, though much less energeticly.  I zapped her right
thigh three times and the leg's movement was reduced to twitching.
I made it to my feet, though I couldn't straighten up yet, and went
for the hammer.  I came back as quickly as I could in my bent over
condition. I'd thought of a lot of movies when I considered the
things I was going to do to Patricia, including "The Hunchback of
Notre Dame" - love the boot, been trying to build or buy one, so
far without success - but I'd never cast myself this way.  This
"anything can happen" wasn't quite the thrill it had seemed.  I
hammered the left stake, which was nearly free, deep into the
ground, then got the right, yanked it till the leg was good and
taut, and hammered it down.  I tapped down the other stakes as a
precaution, and withdrew to the tent to lick my wounds -
figuratively, please, I'm not flexible enough to do so for real
and, anyway, that's one of the few kinks I don't have.

When it seemed everything had recovered but my pride, I came back.
Patricia was tugging on the ropes, but without her previous
energy or success.  "You know, slave, when I was a child I had
trouble remembering which one was Quasimodo and which one was
Torquemada.  You may have thought you knew which one I was, but
you were wrong", I sputtered at her.  She was looking at me like
I was mad, and for the first time I had the pleasure of seeing
fear in her eyes.  Fear in a helpless woman's eyes always got me
hard.  Unfortunately, I wasn't as fully recovered as I had
thought, and the experience was not quite as pleasant as usual.
Something else to make her to pay for. I took the horsewhip and
went to lay into her, then stopped long enough to free her head; I
wanted to hear this.  I started on her legs, moving around her so I
could hit the inside as well as the top of her thighs, the tip of
the whip sometime coming very close to but never touching her
labia, then moved up and covered her belly and sides with
stripes.  I skipped over her breasts to work on her shoulders and
to crack the whip into her armpits.  Throughout this she was
screaming and writhing and struggling with renewed vigor.  She
found many things to say to me, but to her credit "I'm sorry"
wasn't one of them.  The closest she had come to a plea was when
she started shouting "Yes ! Yes !".  At first I thought she was
getting off on the whipping, but then I realized she had thought
to try our "safeword". " 'Yes', eh slave ?  Yes, you can have
some more", I told her, and she went back to questioning my
parentage and family relationships.

Now I brought the whip down on her breasts, and her screams
rose in volume and pitch.  As the leather cracked across her
soft skin she began mingling offers in with her invective, and
as the network of stripes grew on her chest the number and
variety of open offers became quite impressive.  But I still
hadn't heard from this proud lady the things I wanted to hear,
and as hot as her screams of agony and offers of ecstasy where
making me, she was going to say them before the torture stopped.
I considered telling her what she could say - it seemed as if her
pleas of "I'll do anything you want" and "What is it you want ?
Tell me what you want ?" were soliciting such input - but decided
that would spoil the purity of the moment.  "I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE -
AHHHHH - I'LL BE SUCH A GOOD SLAVE - OWWWWW - I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE
FOREVER - EEEEYY - AAAH - OWWWOOHH - EGH-GGH - I'LL DO ANYTHING
YOU WANT, MASTER, OH PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO - OHHHRRRRGGH -
OH PLEASE MERCY PLEASE - EEYOOOW - YOU'RE KILLING ME, I CAN'T
STAND IT PLEASE HAVE MERCY - AAAAAA - FUCK SUCK TOILET WHATEVER,
TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT OF ME, PLEASE - OWWWW - PLEASE - PLEASE -
I KNOW YOU DON'T WANT ME DEAD, I'M NO USE TO YOU DEAD - EEECHHH -
YOU'RE KILLING ME - OH GOD - OOOWWWW - GODDAMMIT WHAT DO YOU WANT
YOU BASTARD JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT - YES YES YES - SHIT! -
AAAHH - PLEASE MASTER I'M SORRY PLEASE I'M SO SORRY".  At that I
knelt beside the sobbing woman. Her face was bright red beneath
the tears and in places mucus that covered her face, much
of her body was flushed and most of it crisscrossed with flaming
welts, she was bathed in sweat all over, and that part of her
dripping hair that wasn't plastered to her head was covered with
the sand and dirt that had stuck to it as she flailed her head
about in the dirt.  She was quite beautiful. I lifted her head up
and looked through the veil of tears into her eyes and saw, for
now at least, no defiance.  "You see, Patricia, dear slave, you
should have remembered your manners", I told her, "you just had
to say you were sorry".  When I gently lowered her head she was
unconscious.

It would be many hours before she awoke.  I had cleaned her up
as much as conditions permitted and carried her into the tent.
Under normal conditions I wouldn't have taken the risk of
fastening that woman's wrists in front of her, but since her back
was less damaged that her front or sides, suffering only from some
scrapes that resulted from her twisting and writhing, she could
rest better on her back, if her hands were in front.  The nylon
handcuffs that I'd placed on her were not themselves a weapon the
way the steel one's would have been.  Her ankles were chained
together and I didn't think even she was much of a threat to hop
up from behind and brain me. I had no illusions that her
willfulness and defiance had ceased permanently.  I wasn't even
certain that she wouldn't be ready to bite my head off when she
woke up.  But it had been a sweet moment when her resistance
stopped, a moment to be remembered and enough in itself to make
the whole scene a success.  This was of course conditional upon
Patricia not killing me before we got out of here.  I was thinking
that even if she did it would almost have been worth it - then
realized what pure bullshit that was.  Shit, I thought, I've been
out in the sun too long while my slave sleeps in the tent.  This
was not a part of the plan.  Well, however she's feeling when she
gets up, I thought, and whatever happens before we get out of
here, I have some more plans for her and she's not going to
escape them.  I set about preparing for the execution of those
plans whenever she awoke.  She would need her strength.

She awoke to find me watching her.  The preparations had been
completed and now I just needed my captive ready to experience
them.   She said nothing as she rose to a sitting position.  She
raised her hands to softly touch her breast and winced and gasped
at the pain.  She looked at me now, quite calmly, and there was
no fear or submission in eyes but neither was there the burning
defiance that had been there before. "Well", she rasped, her
throat quite sore, "what do you intend to do with me now ?".
"The first thing is to get some water into you", I said.  She
raised her hands to accept the canteen from me. "I think not", I
said as I went behind her.  "Raise your head and open your
mouth", I commanded, and when she did so I began to pore a little
into her mouth as I stroke her throat and then dripped some onto
her lips, then dripped a little water onto her hot cheeks and
forehead, behind her ears and onto her closed eyes and gently
spread the fluid around, with a small amount into her mouth
between each other stop. Then I poured a liberal amount into her
hair and into a towel I draped as gently as I could across the
back of her neck, and finally wet a cloth and ran it over the
veins in her forearms and opposite her elbows.  "I had thought to
put it in a dog bowl and let you lap it up when you got thirsty
enough, but I'm glad that wasn't necessary.  I suppose  you're
hungry ?", I asked.  "Ravenous".  I'd brought some fruit, which I
allowed her to take in her hands to eat.  "So, slave, are you
ready to play some more ?", I inquired.  "None of this has seemed
much like play so far", she answered.  "Perhaps not.  Are you
ready to proceed ?".  "No".  "Good.  Unfortunately for you, it
will happen anyway", I told her.  She sort of smiled, and said,
"So my consent isn't required.  What a surprise".  I slipped a
pair of leather mittens over her hands and secured them, locked a
handcuff around one wrist, then cut the nylon cord and quickly
seized her wrists and pulled them behind her. Surprisingly, she
didn't offer any resistance, which partly thrilled and partly
disappointed me.  I blindfolded her before unchaining her feet
and applying some shackles.  I wasn't about to be taken in by her
current passivity, which was not submission but only a lack of
resistance. If she was waiting for a chance to act, she wasn't
going to get one. I pulled her to her feet, then placed her her
high heels by them and told her to slip them on; she offered some
marginal resistance to my guiding her feet into the shoes, but
put no real effort into it.  I put a leash around her neck and
led her out of the tent.  When I got her to the apparatus, I ran
a chain from each side of the apparatus to an ankle before I
removed the shackles, then drew each ankle apart until she was
standing with her legs spread and fastened by short chains while
her hands were locked behind her back.  The leash I fastened to a
pole extended above her head; it hung loosely but would prevent
her from sitting or laying down.

Since this formidable female was now completely helpless, I could
have safely removed the blindfold, but I thought better of it.
We had lots of time, she was completely helpless and could not
possibly get free, so I could afford to wait and let her think
about what I was going to do to her.  She was probably imagining
techniques so cruel that even I wouldn't employ them.  I
certainly hoped she was, perhaps I could get her to tell me what
those techniques might be; one should always have something to
aspire to. I didn't say anything, I just watched her stand there,
helpless.  As time creeped by, her squirming and testing of the
restraints indicated the tension was getting to her.  Finally,
she said, "So do you have something for me ?". "In due time,
slave", I replied. She fidgetted a little more. "You're trying to
get it up, right ?", she asked, "Jesus, we'll be here all summer
waiting for that miracle".  I walked over and stood behind her.
"Really, slave, I'm hurt.  You have so little respect for me that
you think I can be provoked into premature action", I said.  Now
speaking softly into her ear, I told her, "You can't move me,
Patricia, not with lust, and not with anger.  Your marvelous
intelligence, your wonderful command of language, your charms and
sensual skills, none of these will help you, they can no more
affect me than your impressive physical strength affects these
chains.  You are completely helpless, there is nothing that you
can do or say that will alter your fate in the slightest.  I will
determine what happens to you, how it happens, when it happens.
You have no say in this, and absolutely no control.  It's your
body, it's your life, but it's my decision".  I put my hands on
her shoulders; they were knotted with tension.  "Are you really
in such a hurry to be hurt again ?", I asked, as I began
caressing her bare back. "You've no place to go and nothing to do
but to experience what I want you to feel", I told her, my hands
now gently fondling her buttocks.  I reached below them and began
to stroke her between the legs; she trembled a bit and shifted her
feet but wasn't trying to evade the touch.  "Not so hard to find
moisture in the desert, is it, Patricia ?", I asked.  She didn't
answer.  Her head was moving slightly and her lips were parted
but she not giving any willing responses.  I kept one hand
working her vagina while I put the other under her head and turned
it to me.  I started kissing her neck and face; my hand on her
throat felt the moan before it escaped from her lips.  I kissed
her mouth, softly and quickly, then went back to the circuit of
her face and neck, stopping occasionally at the mouth.  As she
was not trying to pull away, I released my grip on her neck; she
didn't move and I continued to kiss her face and neck and mouth.
I moved my free hand to her breast and very, very gently stroked
her nipple.  She gasped a little but didn't move.  I kissed her
on the mouth, holding the kiss.  She neither resisted nor
responded.  I kissed her mouth again, while the hand in her
pussy sent a finger probing inside her vagina.  She moved her
mouth away but I followed and locked my lips to hers and she
began to return my kiss.  As we kissed I again gently stroked her
nipple and I felt her react, not entirely in pain.  She was quite
moist now and her hips were moving to increase the friction
between my fingers and her vagina.  She was kissing fervently now
and when I broke from her mouth to kiss her neck and face her
moans were now free and unselfconscious and I felt the heat in
her neck and throat, a heat not deriving from the setting desert
sun.  I removed the blindfold so she could see the sunset, though
as she pressed against me, rubbing her back into my chest and her
head against mine as we continued to kiss each other, her eyes
were open only briefly.  As darkness settled around us she was
thoroughly aroused.  She rubbed her buttocks against my crotch
and said, archly, "It seems we have our miracle".  "Would you
like me inside you ?", I asked.  "YES", she said, in a cry that
was partly shouting and partly laughing.  "Yes, yes, please
HURRY !", she demanded.  "Slave, if you get what you want this
weekend, THAT will be the miracle", I said as I stepped away
&gt;from her. "OHH, YOU BASTARD, YOU MONSTER", she shouted as her
body shook and she stamped her feet. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME THIS
WAY !  HOW COULD YOU DO THIS YOU SEXLESS IMPOTENT CREEP - I HATE
YOU - I'LL KILL YOU", she screamed.  She went on at some length,
screaming at me as she writhed and stamped.  She was trying
desperately to close her legs, but the chains wouldn't give; I
was hoping she wouldn't break anything as she pulled at the chains.
She was straining her arms to get down there, but even if she
could have reached that far the thick leather mittens would have
prevented her from getting a finger where it could do any good.

I set the fire blazing so I could better watch the show she was
putting on as she writhed and shimmied and gyrated within the
narrow range her bonds allowed. It was quite a show, the
firelight on her hair and gleaming body very lovely, her face
a primeval mixture of lust and rage that looked wonderfully
savage in this light.  This went on for a long time before
most of her energy was spent and she stood there twitching,
eyes downcast.  I'm sure she wanted very badly to cry but refused
to give me the satisfaction.  "What a performance, Patricia !", I
said, "if I'd realized how incredible you would be I'd have
arranged better lighting so I could tape it.  But I doubt I'll
ever forget it.  How about you ?".  She raised her eyes and
glared at me, and growled, "I am going to remember what you've
done to me for the rest of my life, and I will NEVER stop hating
you".  "How wonderful !  I promised you a memorable weekend.
But, slave", I reminded her, "the night is young, and I'm not
through with you yet".

I put a bag over her head ( and over her protests, which
continued pouring out from under the hood ) while I made
an addition to the apparatus.  When I was done, I removed
it so she could see the thick wood pole below her. "So what's
that, some kind of totem that you to pray to for the ability to
satisfy a woman ?", she spat at me.  "You know what it's for,
Patricia.  You wanted something in that hot pussy of yours; you
still do, badly.  You're wet and ready, if you want satisfaction,
go for it", I told her.  "YOU GO TO HELL", she said.  "If my
Salesian teachers were correct in theology class, then I most
certainly shall", I answered her, "but it's not my going to Hell
that's at issue here, it's whether your anger and pride will stop
you from seeking heaven.  It's right there, just inches away, why
should your anger at me stop you ?  Yes, I've used you cruelly
for my own pleasure today - by the way, I've enjoyed it immensely -
and I'm going to continue to use you, but why should that stop
you from taking the pleasure that's available to you ?  Will you
really do that to yourself just to spite me ?  Yes, I see you
would.  I'm so glad, I was counting on this,", I said as I saw
her start up and glare at me even more fiercely, "so you see even
this display of independence on your part fits perfectly into my
plans.  Everything you do serves my interests, regardless of what
you want.  What perfection to have a slave do everything you want
them to even while they think they are resisting.  I didn't want you
to willingly impale yourself on that shaft, not when it would be so
much more fun to watch you rape yourself", I advised, as I
withdrew the whip from it's hook.  "You know what to do," I
commanded.  "FUCK YOU!", she screamed, and I couldn't help
laughing, "Slave, even your dialogue is perfect !  No, no, my
lady, you're not going to fuck me, you're going to fuck YOU !
NOW, DO IT !".  She didn't move and I made the whip crack right
in front of her eyes.  She didn't react; I hadn't thought a tough
customer like her would, but knew from unpleasant experience how
terrifying that image of a leather tongue coming to rip out one's
eye is, no matter how well she masked the fear.  Since I didn't
want her passing out I concentrated on her largely unmarked back
and the soft skin in the back of her thighs and secondarily on
her buttocks, which had been caned but weren't too badly
inflamed.  As the first strokes cracked across her back, her pride
and anger kept her from reacting, but much of her strength had
been depleted this day and she was soon jerking as the whip
struck, and then jerking in anticipation as she heard it.  The
terrible image of the whip coming towards her face kept her from
looking back and I could play with her anticipation by letting
the whip whiz past her or crack inches away from her, making her
jerk and twist without touching her.  She couldn't move much, but
she could move her shoulders enough in her futile attempts to
avoid the whip to make her buttocks jiggle nicely and to make
those sore, aching breasts bounce in a way that was wonderful for
me to watch and excruciating for her to feel.  It didn't take
nearly as much time for her screams to start as it had earlier,
but the uselessness of bargaining was obvious to her and she
included no pleas or offers in her cries, confining herself to
soaring screeches of inarticulate agony punctuated by screeds in
which she detailed my failings as a person and my dubious
prospects for the future.  "Even if that's so, slave", I replied
after one of her more dire predictions, "that fact is, today I
wield the whip and enjoy absolute power over you; you will do
everything I want you to and we will both remember it as long as
we live, and nothing that happens in the future will change this
moment".  I awaited her reply, but as she had returned to screech
mode it wasn't very elucidating.

At last, as was inevitable, Patricia's will broke.  "ALL RIGHT,
I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANT, STOP WHIPPING ME", she cried through her
abundant tears.  "This isn't about words, slave", I said,
cracking the tip of the whip against the soft skin of her right
thigh.  She moved her legs a little further apart and began to
bend her knees to meet the shaft.  I redirected the whip away
&gt;from her legs to keep from knocking them out from under her,
which had happened a few times during the unexpectedly prolonged
flogging ( though I wouldn't admit it to Patricia, I'd never
imagined that she could resist as long as she did, or remain
conscious through such protracted agony ).  She had the shaft's tip
on her lips and was grinding her hips to work it into her.  While
Patricia was quite moist, the thick wood shaft was unlubricated,
though the smooth finish ( we couldn't risk any splinters in
her vagina, could we ?  After all, I might want to use it later )
would slide nicely.  Her efforts to get the shaft inside her were
impeded by her reflex to rise up when the whip hit her buttocks,
so I hit her buttocks repeatedly.  Eventually she stopped
screaming her protests and repressed the reflex, and got it
inside her.  She lowered her legs to take in more of the shaft,
but it was too thick for her to slide onto easily and she had to
keep jerking her hips back and forth to, keeping the thrusting
leg higher than the passive leg, in order to force it further
within herself.  When the leash began to tighten about her throat
she stopped lowering herself, but I knew there was a little more
room and slashed at her shoulders, telling her "All the way,
slave, you're not low enough yet, lower yourself all the way
down".

Finally she had it in as far as it would go.  The leash was
pretty tight but she could still breath; her face had been bright
red before the leash began tightening.  Much of her body was
red now, between the exertion and the welts, and all of it was
sweaty despite her being naked in the chill of the desert night.
The firelight flickering on her glistening form was lovely.  The
sweat pouring down her face had forced her to close her eyes but
close examination confirmed that tears were still forcing their
way out from under her eyelashes to mingle with her sweat.  It
was hard to determine how much of the pain twisting her face came
&gt;from the shaft's penetration of her most private parts, how much
&gt;from her exertions, and how much had come from the whipping; I
doubt she could have separated it.  "You've done well, slave, but
this was part one.  Now that you've stretched yourself around it
and lubricated it, the fun part starts.  Now you fuck it; c'mon
slave, up and down", I ordered, and gave her a stroke on the
breasts to emphasize the point.  She groaned but began to raise
herself up, then to lower herself after rising only a few inches.
The whip kissed her belly, and I said "You can do better than
that", and she pulled herself up about six inches above the
point of her lowest descent and then started lowering herself
again.  She'd done so well that I decided to go easy on her and
accept that.  It was pretty slow going as she slid up and down
the shaft the first few circuits, but as she stretched herself
further, a process accompanied by a lot of screaming, and, at
the end of each lap by her tearful inquiry, "Can I stop now ?",
it became easier.  Soon, encourage by strokes to her shoulders
or buttocks, depending upon which way she was to go, she was
humping it good, her T&A bouncing nicely.  Her hair was too wet,
and stuck to her head instead of bouncing, but you can't have
everthing.  After a few more rounds she ceased asking if she
could stop, I thought because she had taken to heart my repeated
answer, "You'll stop when I tell you to stop".  She kept going and
I found I'd no need to use the whip to urge her on, which would
not have stopped me from continuing to flog her had not my elbow
become a little sore.  Since she'd been grunting and moaning with
her face and chest flushed and her face contorted for some time,
it was hard to tell if there was anything else effecting her
performance, but it soon became clear that her pent up lust was
going to find release no matter how it had to do so.  Her
widespread legs were going like mad sliding her up and down on
the wood and the tone of her vocalizations changed from pain to
passion and she started jerking her head back and screaming
"YES - YES - YES" but this time neither of us was under any
illusions that it might be a safeword.  Soon a series of
convulsions surged through her, one after another, and when
she was done shaking, her legs collapsed under her and her head
slumped forwards and she hung limp, impaled on the apparatus.

I rushed forwards to check on her.  She was out, but she was
breathing, and once the leash was off her breathing was regular.
Her heart was pounding but it was rapidly coming back to normal.
I considered whether she could be revived - I'd planned to
unchain her feet and make her rotate herself around the shaft
a few times, but I'd so enjoyed the look of her humping that I
deferred the change in direction - but it didn't appear likely.
"Well, slave," I told her inert form, "it looks like you managed
to thwart my plans after all.  I hope you're happy".  Sure seemed
that way at the end.

I unchained her and took her off the apparatus, and carried her
to the tent.  There wasn't any way to place her that she wasn't
laying on her welts, as she was completely covered with
crisscrossing stripes from her knees to her neck, but in her
current state it wouldn't matter.  I layed her on her back and
cleaned her face and neck and when she cooled a little covered
her with a blanket and spent much of the night dripping water
with a some dissolved sugar and salt into her mouth and stroking
her throat so she'd swallow.  When I thought she'd been
rehydrated sufficiently, I rolled her onto her stomach and made
certain her mouth was clear and in the open, then went back to
the fire to heat my dinner.  It appeared Patricia wouldn't be
eating again tonight.  I ate my meal and enjoyed the cool desert
night and warm fire while I replayed the whole glorious day in my
mind.  Then I checked on Patricia.  She was still completely out,
but I wasn't comfortable sleeping next to her without restraints
- it didn't look like she would be waking up tonight but I
couldn't chance her waking up before I did - so I selected some
soft padded leather cuffs and locked her wrists behind her.

She was still asleep when I awoke.  It seemed unlikely that she
would be able to walk back to the base camp, even without
carrying the gear, so after breakfast for me and some more
rehydration for her, I assembled a lightweight cage, tied
Patricia up good and tight and put her in the cage, and lashed
the cage up on a platform in the nearest shady spot.  She wouldn't
be able to get out and no buzzards or coyotes would be able to
get at her; if my information was correct there were no larger
predators in this area. I moved what gear I couldn't carry out of
sight; when she woke up she'd probably think she'd been left to
die, an idea that I found pretty sexy.  Maybe she'd be
sufficiently grateful when I came back for her to forget how
she'd gotten there.  Not likely, but possible.

It took me a long time to get back to the jeep and drive it
reasonably close to the new camp. I put the gear in the jeep then
came back and managed to observe Patricia secretly for a while
before I appeared, enough time to know that despite the
studiously calm demeanor she adopted for my benefit, she'd been
terrified.  I gave her food ( at this point I wasn't so intrigued
by having her lick the stew off the plate, so I spoon fed her )
and water, then started carrying her out.  I left the cage and
platform there; some people out on survival training found it a
couple years later, and the Park Service dug up most of the
desert looking for the victims of satanic sacrifice.  It was
pretty rough carrying Patricia, though as she repeatedly told me,
it would have been a lot harder in high heels; I gagged her after
the third or fourth time repetition. I got her in the jeep
and drove to an isolated spot about one hundred yards from where
I'd paid my local confederates to leave her car, clothes, and
handbag, along with some food and water and a first aid kit.  I
sat her on the ground near a large rock into which two "O" rings
had been driven and chains hung from the rings. I poured some
antiseptic over her chest just above her breasts, then extracted
my piercing tools.  Her eyes widened at that and she started
shaking her head furiously, but she was bound and gagged quite
securely and I inserted the rings in spots between her collar
bones and her breasts without too much difficulty, then poured
the antiseptic over the piercings; it hurt a lot more now.  I
removed all her restraints except a pair of handcuffs, leaving
the gag in place. I took the keys to the handcuff and tossed them
on the ground a few yards away from her.  "Well, PV", I said,
"it's been great meeting you, not exactly what I'd planned but
better than I'd dared hope.  Now I have to free you while making
my own escape.  All you have to do is rip those rings out, take
the keys and free your wrists, then walk a hundred yards to your
car.  That won't be easy, and I'm counting on the fact it will
take you awhile to work up the courage to do it to give me time
to get away.  I'd been planning to relocate for some time, so
you'll have a devil of a time finding me for prosecution or
revenge".  I turned to leave, "Oh, PV, you should know that in
your current condition it's very unlikely anyone will find you
here before you die of thirst, so if you can't pull free you're
doomed".  She stared at me for a moment, then made a game effort,
collapsing white-faced and crying.  "Yes, the rings are under
some muscles in your chest, very hard to tear.  The Sioux used to
shove sticks under them and hang until their body weight tore
them loose as part of their religious ceremonies.  I thought
about suspending you by the rings, but I liked this idea better
because it requires you to take an action that's going to be
unbelievably painful, but you must do it if you want to live. I'm
sure you're brave enough to do it; I'm also sure you won't be
able to do it any time soon.  Goodbye, and good luck", I said and
walked away.  I could hear her angrily grunting after me, but I
had decided it would more effective if I didn't look back.  She
probably didn't believe that I wasn't coming back; that would
keep her from trying anytime soon.  It'd be some time tomorrow at
the earliest before she could reach a phone, and I'd be long
gone.

I never heard what happened.  I suppose she freed herself; by now
someone would have passed the spot, and the discovery of her
handcuffed skeleton chained to a rock would have made the news
even in the places I've resided since then.  I'm sure it would
have; all the other ones did.


END

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