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From: SirDomitius@aol.com
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Subject: {ASSM} Outward Bound (MDom/fsub consensual outdoor anal)
Date: Thu, 4 May 2000 19:10:08 -0400
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SirDomitius@aol.com
<1st attachment, "00 EroticStories 0504.txt" begin>
WARNING: This story is for adult reading only and contains explicit
description of sexual acts. If you are under legal age or if you may be
offended by these descriptions or if this material is illegal where you
live, STOP READING NOW!!. If you continue, you do so at your own
responsibility. This story is a work of fiction. Any resemblance to any
person, real or fictitious, living or dead, is purely coincidental and
unintended. (c) Copyright by SirDomitius@aol.com, 1999-2000. All rights
reserved. You are welcome to relay it to other newsgroups, but publishing
for professional purposes is not allowed without written permission.
---------------------------------------------------------------------------
------------- The lunch was a quiet interlude in the middle of the couple
of days we had managed to steal together, out of town. The restaurant was
on the outskirts of a small town northwest of the city, hidden on a country
road, a place I had discovered years before on one of my cross-country
treks. The distant rumble of thunder had provided a soft backdrop to our
meal and had started me thinking. Which is always dangerous.
As I turn the rental car onto the small highway leading back to the
interstate, the sky dumps its burden, pelting large drops of rain on the
windshield. I switch on the wipers and automatically turn on the lights.
Craning slightly so that I can look up through the windshield, I can tell
that the thunderstorm will blow through relatively quickly, but perhaps
give us an hour or more of play time.
I glance over at you, knowing that you have no clue about what's on my
mind. you are sitting there in one of my favorite positions when you are
the passenger -- at almost a 45-degree angle, right arm resting on the
door, left hand down next to your hip, right leg straight in front of you
and the left leg bent with the knee on the seat, foot under your right
thigh. One of my favorite positions, because when you're wearing a dress
or skirt with a thong or no panties, as you are today, it's easy for me to
reach over and expose you to me as we drive. you have on a lavender
sleeveless top and a tan twill wrap skirt. The bra is a necessary
accessory, given the clinging characteristic of your shirt. Comfortable
white Keds are perfectly laced and neatly tied on your feet.
W/we drive for a couple of miles with the syncopation of the rain and
the wipers providing a melodic, almost hypnotic aural tapestry. My eyes
are thoughtfully scanning both sides of the deserted road. W/we pass a
small gravel drive on the left and my head turns to study the layout. My
foot comes off the accelerator and the car slows. "What is it?" you ask.
"Something I want to show you." I find a wide spot on the gravel
shoulder and make a careful u-turn. Driving up to and just past the path
that I had seen, I pull the car off the road, put it in park, and turn off
the engine and lights. Popping the trunk lid with the inside latch button,
I extract the keys out of the ignition and say, "Wait here." Without
waiting for a response, I open the door and step into the soaking rain,
seeing your wide-eyed "what the hell is he doing look?" as I close the
door.
A crashing clap of thunder drowns out the sound of my topsiders sloshing
through the water coating on the road's macadam surface; my sockless feet
are immediately wet. I stand for a moment, mesmerized by the lightning
display shooting its fingers across the sky from right to left,
illuminating everything beneath the ponderous clouds.
Reaching the trunk, I raise the lid, ducking under for a little cover.
Water trickles off and down the back of my polo shirt, turning the bleached
indigo color dark. My Docker cargo pants are already soaked up to my
knees. I'm only vaguely aware of the wetness and could care less. I
quickly rummage into the side pocket of my overnight bag, and retrieve a
pair of handcuffs, a Swiss Army pocket knife and a couple of condoms. The
key isn't easily located, but I finally locate it in the bottom crease of
the bag. Slamming the lid, I splash around to the passenger door, unlatch
and open it.
you reflexively back away from the rain, but I reach in and take your
right arm in my left hand and pull it toward me. Before you can react or
protest, I snap a cuff around your wrist and tug. "C'mon, let's go play in
the rain." Seeing the smile on my face and the glint in my eyes, you swing
your legs out, step out of the car and stand. And are immediately soaked.
Grinning like a crazy or someone who knows a secret he won't share, I hit
the door lock and close the door.
Holding the cuff near your right wrist, I put my left arm behind your
neck, grab your left shoulder and turn you, facing the car. Leaning
against you so that my pelvis can have maximum contact with your ass, I
wedge you against the car. Reaching down, I take your left wrist, pull it
behind your back and cuff it. Again, the thunder pounds around us. I wait
for the echoes to abate, enjoying the feel of your body under mine.
Leaning so that I can speak into your right ear, I tease. " Hmmm. Rain.
Thunder. Outdoors. Sounds like a perfect scene to me. Let's go."
I turn you and, holding your arm at the elbow, guide you down the gravel
path. W/we look like two drowned rats, hair hanging limply, water dripping
off eyebrows, clothes soaked. But we're both grinning.
Crunching down the path, I lead you to the area that caught my eye. A
small copse of trees and bushes and brush, secluded enough to shield us
from prying eyes on the highway, dense enough to give us a creative
playground. Bending as we walk, I grab a hand of wildflowers and yank them
out. A cover story should anyone ask. "Gee, officer, we just decided to
stop and pick some wildflowers and it started raining . . . . . "
The path ends, but there is a relatively easy walkway into the center of
the trees. The branches provide a little cover from the rain, but I'm not
concerned about that. I'm looking for . . . I'm not sure what. I'll just
known it when I see it. you shake your head to clear some of the water off
your face, not having the luxury to wipe it off with your hands. Then I
see it.
About 10 yards ahead, about two-thirds of the way into this miniature
forest, an oak tree with a broken branch about six or seven feet off the
ground. The lightning gods set off another display over our heads as I
gesture with my hand, indicating you should head toward the tree. "And the
thunder roars," I think, Garth's song briefly resonating in my mind.
When we reach the tree, I work the key out of my wet pants pocket and
unlock the cuff on your right wrist. you say nothing as I bring your
wrists together in front of you and re-cuff you. Holding the chain
between, I raise your arms over your head, wrap my left arm around your
waist to lift you an inch or two, and slide the cuffs over the broken
branch and toward the trunk. Releasing you, I step back as you say
something. The thunder drowns it out.
you look up and the rain, even though it's lighter under the tree,
causes you to close your eyes, drop your head and shake it again. I
couldn't have picked a more perfect setting. you are standing there on tip
toes, calf muscles tight, not extended so high that the tension on your
wrists is unbearable, but high enough that the strain will constantly
remind you of the position you're in.
"What did you say?" I ask, leaning in so I can hear your response.
"If I didn't know better . . ." you paused as the thunder again raked
the countryside. ". . . I'd say you had this planned." you were already
getting that look in your eye, the one which told me that you were starting
to think about your sub/slutspace, that quiet, tornadic, calming, turbulent
place you frequently go inside of yourself when we're playing.
"Oh, I did," is the only clever repartee I can deliver. I'm thinking in
a different direction. I pull the knife out of my left pocket and pry open
the blade. your head is turned, looking through the trees to the open
fields which surround our small Eden.
Reaching up, I take the collar of your shirt, pull it away from your
chest and slip the knife blade under. you turn to watch. Slicing down,
the wet material resists, but then tears in a jagged pattern down the
middle. It takes a final cut to separate the hem at the bottom. I pull
the two halves apart, push them to the outside of your breasts. your mouth
is open, your breathing more rapid. And still the rain comes.
Turning the blade over, I slide it under the center of your bra and
slice the fabric and pull it aside, exposing your breasts to Nature's
shower. Folding the knife quickly and dropping it back into my pocket, I
lift your breasts and move my head forward so that my mouth can taste the
wetness on your left nipple.
you take a half step back against the pressure on your chest, end up
with your ass against the narrow tree trunk, wrists extended out in front
of you when the cuffs don't slide down the limb. I can hear the small
moan, almost a grunt. Looking up, I take the cuffs and, lifting them along
the bark, slide them so they're over your head. My mouth returns to your
hard nipple. your head drops to kiss the top of my bald wet head.
A minute later, an eternity playing with your nipple, I stand, give you
a long, lazy kiss. My tongue pries your mouth open and begins to explore.
I rake my tongue across the roof of your mouth, the sensation making you
shudder. I then move to your long, smooth neck, stretching so that I can
suck and gently bite the hollow just above you collarbone. My hands cup
your ass, pressing your soaked body against mine. When I bend to take your
left nipple into my mouth again, you can no longer could hear the rain or
the thunder. It is as if a shroud of fog has surrounded our hideaway,
blocking all sounds of the outside world. you can hear your heart beat. I
bite. The reality of the pain evokes a sharp intake of breath. The
thunder pounds around us.
I stand. My hands cup, lift your drenched breasts, thumbs roughing over
the nipples. My hands wipe down your sides, meet underneath your navel.
your skirt is buttoned at the waist with two skirt buttons on your left
hip, then three larger buttons down the front panel. Fingers slip under
the waist band. your stomach sucks in slightly as cool water trickles down
the lower part of your belly. Lifting the top of your skirt with my right
hand, my left hand tries to undo the buttons. Not easy when the material
is soaked. I yank. Buttons snap. The skirt separates, unwraps. I drop
it around your feet on the wet ground. The thong is quickly torn away.
you're naked, except for the tattered blouse and bra draped across your
shoulders.
I stand for a moment to look at you, your eyes almost shut, your firm,
rounded breasts rising as you take faster and faster breaths, the little
muscle to the left of the center being pushed up rhythmically by your
pounding heart. you have a petite litheness which takes my breath away.
your dark hair is straight and hangs down past to just above your
shoulders. your breasts stand up well. And even though I'm a leg man, I
appreciate your chest. The nipples are a usually a dull pink. When you're
aroused, they become really long and hard with a sort of squared-off end.
"Erasers," I think, to be nibble and chewed, just like the ones at the end
of a pencil. And when you're aroused, your aureole from which the nipple
projects becomes swollen.
your navel is an "inny" and on a stomach which has some curve to it.
your pussy is shaved. <Or SHOULD be . . . WG> The outer lips of your cunt
are thin and long, and can be pulled away about an inch with the proper
suction from my mouth. When I'm eating you, those lips get swollen up
thick and turn from a dull pink to almost crimson-purple. your inner lips,
which I really enhjoy chewing, are softly jagged in contour. your clit
isn't easily visible, unless you've been stimulated. It's easily
discovered by touch, preferably with my tongue, almost feels like a small
pea under the skin. When I suck it out of it's sheath, it hardens to
almost an inch in length and responds to being bitten, sometimes not
gently. your vagina is tight and deep. I've also learned that your G spot
is especially sensitive to digital or penile stimulation.
your ass cheeks are tight and not very big. your asshole is very
sensitive and is frequently a favorite target. Anal sex is something you
know I like and have learned that asking to be fucked in the ass has a
mutual benefit. you've also learned to pose for my benefit with your ass
stuck out toward me, looking over your shoulder innocently, eyes wide.
Eyes that have seen what a turnon that pose is for me, the physical
reaction, it gets.
As I study you, I again marvel at the history of our special
relationship which brought us to this time and place, and am thankful for
whatever Fates played a hand.
Stooping, I gently spread your legs and kneel between them on the
drenched underbrush. The knees of my pants are already soaked and I still
don't notice. Lifting your legs, I slide your thighs over my shoulder.
Kneeling, holding your ass in my hand, my head moves forward, my eyes and
mouth targeted on the pussy in front of me.
Spreading the lips of your vagina, I inhale deeply of your aroused scent
which overpowers the smell of late Spring rain. I lightly touch your clit
with the end of my tongue and you jerk, gasping for air, head thrown back,
mouth open to the large water drops which continue to cascade through the
branches of the tree. your thighs squeeze around my ears, shutting out the
cacophony of rain and thunder. Later I will bind you tightly to the bed in
our hotel so that you can't even squirm easily.
I plunge my tongue swiftly, deliberately, forcefully deep into your
cunt. you shift your hips on my shoulders, open your legs to accommodate my
oral attention. My hands reach up to roughly fondle your breasts as my
tongue begins a swirling motion around you clit. you are moaning and the
juice from your pussy tells me that I need to slow things down.
My mouth traces a gentle wet path down each of your legs to your ankles
and then back up to your knees. I alternate between your thighs, applying
soft, wet, biting kisses, and you tremble, pushing your hips up and forward
a little as much as you can, suspended from the tree. I bite your thigh
hard, high up near your cunt, and you cry out, loudly, released to make as
much noise as you want by the desolation of our hideaway.
I kiss your cunt again, my tongue running up and down over your labia
and then poking gently into the crease. My fingers spread your lips. your
clitoris is distended, shyly peeking from under its hood. I lick at it,
tease and prod it, completely lost in your scent and in your taste.
I am driven to eat you, to kiss you, to take your cunt in as many ways
as I could. I nibble on your outer lips and suck on the inner ones. My
tongue runs up and down your slit from clitoris to vagina, flicking over
your clit at one end and pushing past the end of your vagina at the other,
teasing toward your anus. you shudder, cry out, an orgasm coursing through
your body. I thrust a finger into your vagina, sliding it around the
walls, up and down and around. Then another finger, moving them now
slowly, now quickly, all the time flicking my tongue back and forth over
your clit at varying speeds. your juices mingle with the rain over my hand
as I fuck it in and out of you. you have pushed up onto your tiptoes,
moaning incoherently, knees spasming around my head. you are mine for this
moment and I am going to enjoy it, enjoy fucking you in the pouring rain.
I turn my hand so that my palm is facing up against your pussy and went
searching with my middle finger, hooking it a little as if beckoning you to
cum, in a manner of speaking <s>. There, up behind your pubic bone, I find
the spot and push my finger against it hard, wiggling it.
you scream. Which is an incentive for me to continue to tease. The low
moaning sound in your throat sounds like an animal in terrible distress,
and your pelvis starts to shudder. When you arch your back, I bend my head
and began to lick at your clitoris again, flicking it with my tongue. you
make a strangled bleat and I stop moving my finger, withdraw it slowly,
wanting to give you a chance to back off from the orgasm which is so close.
My face shifts downward a bit. I kiss your pussy tenderly and
passionately. you moan again, pull yourself up on the branch.
I sit back on my heels. your distress is exciting to watch as you
squirm and whimper, trying to find something for your pussy to rub against
-- preferably my face. I turn you slightly, pull your ass cheeks apart,
lick the area around your anus. your sphincter muscle contracts
spasmodically as my tongue firmly traces around its opening. Grabbing the
front of your thighs firmly, I plunge my tongue into the tight opening.
your thigh muscles tighten, your hands pull on the branch, lifting you
slightly off my shoulders. your ass pushes back against my face in rhythm
with my tongue probes.
My left arm wraps around your stomach across your hips to brace you
while my right hand finds your vagina, and the index finger begins to
circle your clit, making it stand out.
you are moaning loudly enough now that I can hear you over the constant
timpani of thunder. you are reverting to a primal, basic, instinctive
behavior.
Knowing that you are approaching an orgasm, I remove my tongue and
finger. your wet hair tumbling around your eyes gives you a passionate,
hunted animal look. your look asks, "Why did you stop?" I wink and smile.
you stare up at me, wordless, your eyes huge. Both of our faces are wet,
our clothes are soaked. But it's like we're on a deserted island alone in
the world. you lean your head forward to rest on my shoulder, turn your
face toward my neck. "i feel like i should say something," you say after a
moment. your voice is very soft and has an odd inflection, as if you are
speaking to me from very far away.
"I don't," I answer. Looking around, I see what I want about four feet
away, tucked under another small tree. As I walk away, you twist on the
branch, shaking your head to clear the water from your eyes, the hair from
your face. I pick up a switch about five feet long and flick it through
the air a couple of times. Testing. It still has some green in it.
I walk back, avoiding looking at you, concentrating on achieving the
proper snap with the wrist. Even with the sound of the rain, the whistle
of the switch is unmistakable.
"Nick?" The word is half question, half supplication. There is a tense
edge in your voice. A sense of danger. Even some anticipation.
"you've been so well behaved the past couple of days," I begin, pausing.
". . . that there' really no reason to punish you. But . . . we should
always experiment whenever we have the chance."
I look into your eyes. They close and you turn slightly away. It's a
signal of acceptance. My arm whips forward. The switch whistles. And
strikes the bark of the tree. you flinch as if you've been hit. Startled.
Eyes wide.
"Bastard," you bark. Then, seeing the smile on my face, play the game.
"What's the matter, Master? Afraid you'll hurt me?"
I step forward, slide the wand between your legs, put a hand on each end
on opposites sides of your body and lift. The branch reaches your pussy
and, with a little back and forth motion, it slides between your lips. you
are breathing deeply, rain dropping off your nipples, sliding down your
chest, your stomach, down your legs and onto your ankles.
your eyes watch me as I gently saw the switch back and forth across your
pussy. It's smooth enough that it won't hurt you, but rough enough that
you can feel each little knob as it rubs the inside of your lips.
"No, I would never hurt you for pain's sake." And you know what I say is
true. I'm not a sadist. Which doesn't mean that I won't administer pain.
What it means is that the pain has to be integral to the scene.
I lower the switch and take it from between your legs. I lay the tip
along the top of your right breast, lift it away and then flick it down.
"Ouch!!" your voice is swallowed in a dramatic thunderclap.
Aiming, I flick twice at the nipple, causing you to wince, but your
lower lip. Three strokes on the left breast. I step back, spank the
outside of your left leg at mid thigh, then whip the right. you twist
left, then right. I put my hand on your shoulder and turn you so that your
ass is exposed.
"Count." I almost have to shout for you to hear me. "Loudly. So that I
can hear it." The switch hits your ass. "One, Sir," you scream. With the
wetness, there is a little extra sting. A small red line appears, one
which will be gone in an hour. Especially if its tenderly massaged. I
grin.
"Two. Three. Four. Five." With each contact, you pull on the branch,
lifting yourself, lowering as my arm retreats for the next blow. At five,
I drop the switch, walk up behind you, reach around so that I can fondle
your breasts, and nipple on your right shoulder. "Did you enjoy that?" I
ask, my tone noncommittal. All I hear is a guttural moan.
Without waiting for a longer response, I work the handcuff key out of my
left pocket, reach up and uncuff your right wrist. your arms sag and you
stand there for a moment, rubbing the right wrist, looking at me then
around me, around us. you hold out your left wrist. I drop the key back
in my pocket.
In a show of quasi-defiance, you shrug off the water-laden blouse and
bra, then do a "ta-da" burlesque pose, palms up toward the sky, fingers
pointing away from your shoulders, right knee crossed slightly over the
left. All I can do is grin and unconsciously lick the water dripping from
my mustache. At least I think it's an unconscious act. Perhaps Freudian.
you walk around behind me, completely without self-consciousness. W/we
both love the outdoors and have taken every opportunity we can to play
outside, in all types of weather. I smile, remembering that cold February
morning . . . . But that's another story.
you put your arms around me. your breasts press up against my back and
I can only close my eyes contentedly, resting, thinking about what's to
cum. your lips caress right behind my ear. I relax back against your and
let you turn my head to kiss me. your hands slide down to my waist, down
my legs as you crouch. One hand breaks contact, dragging the soggy skirt
next to my feet. you kneel, undo my belt with maximum efficiency, unsnap
my jeans and pull the zipper down. your hand pulls the waistband of my
briefs away and holds it, a devilish grin on your face as you give the
unrelenting rain access to the previously semi-dry area.
I hook thumbs into the waistbands of my jeans and briefs, slide then
down past my knees to my ankles. As wet as they are it's fruitless to take
them off over my shoes, so I slip the left foot out and take off the left
leg. Put the shoe back on. Take the other shoe and pant leg off, tossing
the pants a foot up on the base of a nearby tree in a futile effort to keep
them out of the mud. Put the shoe back on.
you had moved back and waited, kneeling down, hands on your thighs,
while I undressed. I reach down, grab your hair with my right hand and
pull you upright, so that your face is even with my hard cock. I can feel
a light storm breeze wafting along its length. I don't object when your
hands reach. your left hand is stroking my cock up and down, your right
hand is massaging my balls.
you hungrily take my penis into your mouth, all of it in at once,
sucking hard. your tongue starts to move over its length, around the head,
down the shaft, mouth-fucking me, in and out, slowly, deliberately ,
massaging my balls with the tips of your fingers.
My cock twitches in your mouth. you suck on it more urgently, more
frenzied. your look is one of wanton, addicted need. I firmly grab your
hair and pull your head from your vise-like grip on my dick, part of me
wanting to spew a load of cum into the back of your throat. But the
stronger part wants to take carnally you, make love to you, fuck you in our
private thunderstorm.
I lift you to a standing position, take your face in my hands and push
my tongue into your responsive mouth, my lips clamping tightly over yours.
My tongue rapes your mouth, parrying with and thrusting against with your
tongue that is challenging mine.
"Damn."
"What?" you ask, surprised.
"The condom's in my pants," I tell you, then slog past to the pants. I
pick them up, retrieve the foil packet, tear it open and withdraw the
condom. The pants drop unnoticed into a puddle. The lubrication repels
the rain, but I know you're very wet, not from the rain, but from your
excitement.
you have leaned back against the tree, right foot on the ground, left
put bend, foot against the tree. Knees spread. Head back, eyes closed,
mouth licking at the rain. Hands over your head, holding onto the tree.
"Don't move," I tell you as I step between your knees, finish unrolling
the condom. you look down. I lift your thighs with my hands, bracing you
with my thighs, open you, exposing you.
My cock begins to spread your vaginal lips. The head of my penis
searches for something at the opening of your vagina. And finds your clit,
now very erect, very sensitive. The tip masturbates your clit in rapid,
rhythmical strokes. you cry out and began to tremble all over.
Slowly, deliberately, my dick pushes into you. you gasp and grab my
ass, pulling me in, deeper. your hips shift up. I am now pushed up
completely inside of you. As I withdraw, you emit a cry that came from
somewhere deep inside of you, from someplace ancient and savage. I plunge
in faster this time. Pump my cock inside of you, fucking you against the
trunk of the small tree which sways with our ribbing, shaking rainwater
from its leave onto our heads. your hips match my rhythm and your hands
grip tighter. I bend, flick my tongue over your breasts, one nipple, then
the other. "Faster," you cry out hoarsely. "Faster, I'm going to cum."
your head tilts back against the tree, eyes closed shut, your mouth
slightly open. I push up, thrusting faster, your hot, wet vagina taking me
completely in, the muscles squeezing my dick, then releasing me as I move
out.
your moans become more frequent, keeping time with our crashing
pelvises. you start to cum. I pump harder, my penis becoming engorged with
blood, as my primal animal side pushes away my humanity and took over.
your head snaps forward and you scream, your pussy muscles clamping down
on my shaft. I stop thrusting. you arch your back as your nails dig into
my ass, then loosen as you convulse with your orgasm, coming over you in
waves of unearthly pleasure.
you are inhaling air and rain in big gulps. When you exhale, I withdraw
until only the head of my cock is inside your cunt, then drive forward,
pushing your ass against the bark of the tree, trying to split you, rend
you in half with my erection. Semen shoots into the condom as I brace
myself against the tree, lean against you, pinning you, my thighs lifting
you as I drive in and out, pursuing my orgasm.
The thunder drowns out the beginning of my primal yell, which starts
deep in my belly when I start cumming and continues as the echoes of the
thunder fade. The sound causes you to hold your breath, open your eyes and
softly smile. Then your eyes close, you bite your lip as your head leans
back against the tree, riding down the crest of your own orgasm as I start
to slow my strokes inside your cunt.
I carefully drop your thighs so that you can stand, feet outside of mine
in the mud. My shrinking cock is trapped between your thighs as you put
your arms around my neck, lean your forehead against my chest. your
breathing is still deep, a little irregular. "Mmmmmmm." It's a cross
between a moan and begging. I take a half a step back, helping you
straighten, pulling myself free from your warm pussy. I remove the condom
and can feel light rain on the skin.
Grabbing a handful of hair at the back of your head, I issue a simple
command. "Clean me." It will give me some time to think.
Pulling down on your hair, I force you into a kneeling position so that
you can take my flagging penis in your mouth. you are very adept and
competent and thorough. your hands are holding my thighs, the handcuff on
your left wrist cold against my leg. I pull your head back, lean over you
to shield you from the pelting rain, and smile. "Well done, my pet."
Taking the empty cuff, I pull you to your feet. "Back up." you take a half
a step backward and bump into the tree. I reach around and grab your right
wrist, cuffing it to the left. you are an erotic vision. Arms pulled
back, handcuffed behind the tree. Hair saggy, stringy in the downpour.
Droplets on your kissable breasts, one hanging on the tip of your right
nipple. But only momentarily as my tongue flicks it away.
I pick my pants up from the ground, shake the as much dirt off them as I
can, and slip them on. It's not easy when they're wet. I slipped my right
topsider off and did a one-legged hop on my left foot while I pulled them
on, then repeated the ludicrous dance to get the other leg on. you were
polite enough not to laugh. And kept yourself distracted by opening your
mouth and drinking rainwater. There was a little gravel in the crotch, but
who was paying attention?
"Don't go away," I admonish, bending to kiss you. I had intended it to
be a quick kiss, but you stuck out your tongue. Leaning into you, pressing
you against the rough skin of the tree, I probe into your mouth in a deep,
satisfying French kiss, your breasts grinding against my chest. I turn,
pick up my wet pants and struggle to put them on. That done, I start to
walk away. The rain has intensified, the wind is rising and the thunder is
deeper, more ominous. It's the type of Texas sky that reminds one to watch
the southwest for the quickly forming funnel.
"Where are you going?" The emphasis was on "you." More of a challenge
than an inquiry.
"Excuse me?" I ask, stopping, making a half turn to look at you. "Back
to town, if it's any of your business." I'm teasing, but there's a
millisecond of doubt in your eyes. I step back toward the tree. A
telltale flash and loud thunderclap cause me to look up. The storm's
directly overhead.
"I don't think anybody will find you before I get back." I look into the
sky, squinting against the rain. "Nobody's going to be out here in this.
And besides, it'll be dark in about an hour." I'm having to talk loudly
over the sounds of rain, thunder and wind. Leaning in, I yell into your
ear.
"But if you're afraid of being seen, then I guess I'd better just
camouflage you." I kneel, pick up some mud, stand and start to smear it
across your breasts. your mouth is open. I pick up another handful of
nature's goo and spread it from shoulder to shoulder across your
collarbone. Then I use both hands and smear your breasts, none to gently.
Gravity has an effect on the mudpack. Another handful covers beneath your
rib cage, across your belly. The rain is making small trails in the mud
creating a zebra effect. I stand back to admire my handiwork.
"Are you finished?" you giggle. And it was a giggle. The first I've
ever heard from you.
"No." It takes about three more minutes, but the front of you is finally
covered in mud, from your shoulders to the tops of your dirty tennis shoes.
I stand close, but not close enough that you can reach me when you lean
forward to smear me with your body. Left palm under your breasts to hold
you away, I reach behind you and plaster your lower back and ass. your
right knee comes up, but I'm either agile or you weren't trying. I grab
the your right thigh with my muddy hand, lift your leg and proceed to cover
the front and back with the dirt that hasn't washed off. My last gesture
is to create a mud mask for your face. My tongue probes through the grit
to give you a teasing French kiss.
Laughing, I walk back down the gravel path out of sight. The rain is
pelting now, cutting through the limited cover of the tree. I'm soaked by
the time I reach the car. Unlocking the trunk, I take a quick look up and
down the deserted highway, then duck under the lid for some cover. I stuff
some of the critical things into the toy bag. Fortunately, it's made of
nylon and is essentially waterproof. Mission accomplished, I slam the lid,
again check for non-existent traffic and run back to the cover of the
trees.
My approach must sound like a herd of water buffaloes. As I come into
the little clearing, you shake your head to shake the hair and water out of
your eyes so you can watch.
I reach into the bag and shake out a large black leaf bag, open it and
slip the toy bag inside, protected. A dry shirt and shorts are in there
for you. I can't take you back to the car naked, as much as I can see that
ride back to town and all of it's possibilities in my mind's eye. The
lighting ignites another wave of rolling thunder. The storm has settled
in. The rain has washed much of the mud off your front, exposing patches of
skin in a very sexy effect.
I strip out of my wet clothes and hang them on the branch of a nearby
tree. Off the ground, but quickly accessible. It's easier to work naked
and the rain feels good on my skin. Besides, the tactile experience of
rubbing against you is usually enough to get the blood flowing. I reach
into the garbage bag, unzip the side pocket of the toy bag and retrieve
what I want. Standing, I hold the objects behind my flank so you can't
see.
you haven't said a word, but your breathing is quicker than normal when
I stand in front of you. I lean against you, pushing you back against the
tree with my body, take your chin in my free hand and kiss you. Tenderly,
then roughly, softly, then demanding access to your mouth, tongue, throat.
My hand drops and pinches your breast. you flinch and turn your head,
but not enough to break contact.
I stand away from you and quickly position the blindfold over your eyes.
"Red. The safeword is red."
The thunder is rolling now, not crashing. I know you can probably feel
the vibrations. And the rain is starting to lessen. Using the flat of my
hand, I brush the dirt off your left nipple and it swells to my touch.
Then the right one, more brusquely, making sure that you can feel the
abrasion of the mud being wiped away. I kneel quickly and retrieve two
clamps from the bag. Holding both open, I center them on the nipples,
position them and let them snap shut simultaneously. you jump back against
the tree, straining on tiptoes to get away from the quick pain.
"Ohhhhhhhhhh." It's a painful moan. "Oh, god, that wasn't fair," you yell
at me. you shake from side to side, trying to toss off the clamps. It's a
great show and all I can do is stand back and watch. Then the pain resides
into a dull throb and you stop your contortions, breathing deeply. <<The
first installment continued in a different direction. I've rewritten it a
little.>>
you're sometimes amazed, frightened by how I can predict what you will
say, react. Even about how you'll act when you purposely try to fool me.
you're astounded at how I can know you so well. you, on the other hand,
have trouble predicting my actions or methods. When you think you know me,
know what I want, I surprise you with another demand to fulfill, another
way for you to please me.
The base of your need is that you want to please me. you want me to
take pleasure in you, of you, with you. There was a time when you would
have thought you were obsessed in some demented way in wanting to belong to
this alternative lifestyle.
you've had fantasies since you were a young girl of being dominated,
being forced into submission. When very young, you didn't know about sex.
you dreamed about being kidnapped by pirates, taken on their ship and being
forced to kiss them. When you passed through puberty and discovered sex,
the fantasies changed, although the underlying theme remained. The dream
became being kidnapped by the captain of the football team. He would tie
you to a bed and, though you screamed and cried, he'd take you savagely.
He allowed other members of the team to have you while he watched.
Few of your boyfriends had dominant tendencies and the ones who did were
inexperienced, too you afraid of taking it too far to satisfy you. you
were frustrated. you didn't want someone to adore you in the traditional
sense. you needed someone to adore you because of the pleasure and
discipline you showed them.
When we started dating, you baited me until we got into an argument.
you kept prodding me with words, even hitting me with open-handed slap. I
held you so you couldn't move until you finally stopped kicking, hitting,
biting, and screaming. When you began crying, I comforted you. When my
hand got between your legs, you were very wet. The sex we had that day was
the best we had shared up to that point. you came in a flood as I held
your hands above your head and pushed my penis inside you.
We lost touch.
When we reconnected, I was a Dominant in the D/s world where you had
much to learn. you were shy and embarrassed in our scenes, but I also knew
how excited you became. I pushed your boundaries, but you still weren't
comfortable with describing your responses to my commands. I probed your
mind for your fantasies. you sometimes cringed at the things you'd say,
but forced yourself to hide anything from me, from yourself.
I'd ask you to do or say things that challenged your inhibitions. At
times, I can make you cum with a demand, a simple word.
I lean forward, brace myself against the tree, hands on either side of
your head and kiss you. Deeply. Hungrily. Demanding. Heat rushes
through you, even as the cool rain drips off your skin. you feel wetness
seeping from your cunt. My cock starts to engorge. My hands are on your
hips, my fingers slipping down around your waist, caressing your ass,
dipping into the crack.
you squirm to push against my hand. you feel the slap on your ass
before you hear the sound through the rain. The burning pain sends a rush
of warm pleasure through you. "Spread your legs," I say into your right
ear. "Or would you deny me access?"
"No, i wouldn't do that." your voice is softly contrite. Another slap,
this time harder. you feel warmth spread its focus to your cunt.
"No, what?"
"No, Sir," you whimper.
"you need continuous training, my slut. Training to follow my
directions, remember the rules. I take pleasure in training you. your
submission is the greatest gift I can receive." I continue exploring,
caressing, violating your ass. The rain continues unabated, the thunder
more sporadic, but just a deep.
My hands stroke your thighs, calves, probe the wetness of your cunt,
pull gently on your pubic hair. you know I prefer no hair so I can see
your cunt swell and redden as you approach orgasm. But that is a decision
we have to mutually make.
I stroke the small of your back, continuing my caress upward and around
your shoulders. When I reach your neck, I slide a collar around it,
buckling it in back. If we're discovered now, there will be no doubt about
our intentions.
I lift your breasts, stroke the underside where they're tender, then
slip a clamp on each nipple. you shiver and not from the cooling rain. I
squeeze the clamps, making them tighter. I run my fingers through your
hair and pull your face back, holding your chin in my hands. my fingers
trace your lips. "Such a perfect mouth," I muse, examining it. "Perfect
for sucking cock. Do you want to suck my cock, my pet?"
"Yes, Sir," you answer without hesitation. "I do."
It takes me a moment to locate the handcuff keys. I lean against you,
pressing you into the tree while I reach behind and undo the lock on the
right cuff. I pull you forward by the cuff and push down on your head,
although you were already sinking to your knees. The muddy ground is
irrelevant to either of us.
My half-erect cock touches your lips. you reached for it with your
right hand, letting it lay in your palm. It's cold from being exposed to
the rain. your left hand reaches for my contracted testicles, cupping them
in the warmth of your hand. They are tight, compacted. you watch,
fascinated, as my cock grows slowly in your right hand. The glans of my
penis takes in more blood, swelling it much larger than the still flaccid
shaft.
you touch the pulsing, hardening veins with a tentative finger. you
shift your right hand so its palm is against my pubic hair, your index
finger and thumb grasps my cock at the base. you squeeze and watch my
penis come to life. you release your grip, then squeeze again. It
continues to grow in your hand. All of your fingers hold it, your thumb
curled underneath. you squeeze it once more and point my erection at your
mouth, leaning forward.
you have a maddening desire to lick this amazing living, growing thing,
so close to your face. your mouth is half-open and you run your tongue
slowly around your own rain-wet lips. you reach out your tongue and probe
the tiny opening in my cock's head, wet with beads of moisture. The round
smoothness of the glans slips so easily between your lips. you fight the
urge to devour it, willing yourself to explore it with tongue and lips and
teeth, its textures, each crevice and tiny sensitive spot. I moan.
your lips play with its stiffness, pressing the helmet lightly, then
extending your tongue outward, down along the shaft toward where your thumb
and finger still rest. Tracing your tongue back the full length of my
cock, it flicks from side to side, rapidly then slowly, teasing. you alter
the pressure of your lips again and again, intensifying the suction. I
can't help grinding my hips into your face and shudder.
Slickened with your saliva, my cock yearns for the base of your throat.
"Relax your throat. I'm going to fuck you." you do as instructed and, even
though your throat gags in reflex at first, it soon relaxes. I ease my
cock to the back of it. your throat becomes accustomed to the feel of my
cock filling it. you swallow automatically, massaging my dick. I groan
loudly and begin pushing in and out of your mouth, your throat. my hands
clench your hair, guiding your head.
Roughly, I pull your hair, forcing your head back and remove my cock
from your mouth. you are panting, breathing deeply, excited. The mud has
all but been washed from your body by Nature's rain bath, but contact with
me. We look like refugees from a mud-wrestling club.
I lift you by the collar forcing you up, then turn you, push you against
the tree. The bark is rough on your skin, but its abrasiveness exites you.
Slapping the inside of your thighs to get you to spread your legs, I push
your lower back forward until your cunt grinds against the trunk. "Don't
move," I order. I take the handcuff dangling from your right wrist, lift
your arm and step behind the tree. Reaching around, I take your left arm
and raise it, locking it efficiently into the other cuff. Quickly I tie a
rope around the cuff chain, toss it over the branch a foot above and pull
until your arms are extended upward, the tension just bearable. you lean
your head against the tree, chin down, rain dripping off the ends of your
hair strands onto your shoulders, down your breasts. your mouth is open,
your breathing even more rapid.
Kneeling, I take your left ankle and pull your foot forward until you're
almost on tiptoes, your dirty white tennis shoes bent at the arch. A quick
loop of the rope secures the ankle. I pull your right foot forward and
efficiently tie the rope to the other ankle. Standing, I circle behind you
and admire the position. your legs straddle the trunk, calf muscles
strained and standing out, arms up in the air around the upper part of the
trunk. Skin touching bark from your breasts down your stomach to the
inside of your thighs and knees.
The position is uncomfortable, more because of the vulnerable position
it puts you in than pain. your ass and cunt are fully exposed. your legs
are spread wide. My fingers reach between your legs and massage your clit.
you're on the verge of cumming. "Not yet, my slut," I caution. "Hold onto
it."
I touch every part of your body with the tips of my fingers. I brush
them like vapors across your breasts, circling your nipples, blowing on
them with my breath. My hands encompass both tits, binding them hard until
you felt pain mixing with the intensity of pleasure soaring through your
body. I force your hardened nipples out through my fingers and hold them
taut and rigid away from your breasts. I bend and lick each nipple in
turn, first slowly and gently, then faster, rougher. your body arches up.
Without warning, my teeth bite down on the right nipple, hard. you scream
involuntarily.
"Do you not want me to hurt you?" I ask. It's a challenge. you always
have the option to say "no." you don't answer immediately. you bite your
lip until I'm afraid you might draw blood. "I want your hands. I want
your hands to hurt me."
I knead the muscles of your neck and shoulders with my practiced hands.
My fingers move slowly down your back, coming to rest at your anal opening.
I tease the sphincter, probe lightly into its entrance.
I stop, bend over and pick up a six-foot birch rod. I draw the tip
across your ass, run it back and forth like a violin bow, toying with your
nerve endings and building anticipation of what is about to happen. It
leaves little muddy tattoo trails. I lift the rod several inches away from
your body and hold it there, watching your ass cheeks clench in
anticipation of my first lash. Instead, I lay the rod back across your
behind and begin moving it slowly down from the top of your ass to the
middle of your thighs. I am outlining in your mind the potential target
boundaries.
I merely flick my wrist for the first stroke. It lands right in the
middle of your ass with a louder-than-it-hurt crack, rippling the skin only
slightly. A thin, slightly pink line appears almost immediately where the
switch has struck.
you gasp a quick intake of air. Tears well up in your eyes. you
grimace from the pain, but don't cry out.
"Again," you whimper.
I flick the branch three times in rapid succession across your ass, each
a bit harder than the previous one. I am careful to apply each stroke one
below the other. you make no sound, but flinch into the tree with each
stroke, trying to fend off the increasing pain.
I run my fingertips over the light-colored stripes on your delectable
backside. You shiver slightly at the tinge of gentleness. "your ass was
made to be whipped," I comment to no one in particular as I trace one thin
line from side to side with my index finger.
your breathing more pronounced, exhalations through your chest and
nostrils. I pry your ass apart, exposing the anal ring, and touch the
crinkled opening lightly with the tip of the birch rod.
"Sir?" It's pleading. you're afraid that I might penetrate the tiny
orifice with the thin wood. I release your ass.
I stroke the birch rod across your tender flesh again with a loud crack,
followed immediately by an agonizing, softly muffled shriek from deep
within your throat. you push up off your toes, straining your calf
muscles, then sink down again to your heels. The rain intensifies.
your head shakes from side to side. I wonder if you're telling me to
stop. But you don't use the safeword. "Too hard?" I ask. It's a question
born of consideration, not concern or false compassion.
"No!" you blurt, panting loudly, proud of your ability to respond. "Oh,
it hurts, it hurts, it hurts!" you cry, bouncing up and down on your toes.
I admire the effect. "But please, don't stop. I can feel it building deep
inside me." your eyes close and your head sags bag, mouth open, sucking in
the air. "Do it harder? Please, Sir?" It's a classic "stop, don't stop"
pleading which tightens my groin.
I momentarily wonder about the sound of your screams, then realize where
we are. your sounds won't carry very far over the rain and thunder, and
we're in a secluded cove of trees. I'd be surprised if anyone was within a
five-mile radius. And they certainly wouldn't be outside in this weather.
I pull my arm back further back, goaded by your desire to feel even more
pain, and snap the birch rod smartly into the area where your lower ass
cheeks meet the top of your thighs, an area sensitive to pain. your howl
is long, agonizing, snatched away by the wind. you strain up on tiptoes,
trying to push through the tree. your scream lasts 10 seconds, punctuated
by gasps for breath, followed "Oh, god. It hurts so good! Give me more,
Master!"
But this wasn't the day for testing limits. you are sobbing
uncontrollably now, writhing on the rough bark scraping the skin on your
breasts. Spasms of repressed orgasm twist your body. Tremors of intense
pleasure run down your legs, the blood pounding in your clitoris. I gather
some rain from low-hanging leaves, stroke the coolness onto the heat that
burns you. you are again touched by my gentleness.
you've learned to wait for my voiced approval to cum, but you're not
prepared for the touching. you writhe in agony and groan. The feelings in
every nerve are heightened to another level. "Do you want to cum, slut?" I
ask.
"Yeeeessssssssss, Sirrrrrrrrr," you hiss.
I laugh. "Well, you're just going to have to wait." Lightning flashes
overhead. A second squall blowing in from the West.
I pick up a condom, tear it with my teeth and roll it on, wondering
whether the rain will wash away too much of the lubricant.
you feel the head of my cock at the entrance of your ass. you inhale,
holding your breath. your body tightens as I push forward. you're well
lubricated, but my cock is spreading your anus. The pain causes you to
scream out. The thunder and the rain mix with the scream, confounding the
sound. In the thicket, there's no one to hear it but the two of us and the
other wildlife.
I stop and hold my cock against your anal opening, giving your ass time
to adjust to the intrusion. I stroke your ass cheeks. My left hand
roughly engulfs your left nipple, sending shock waves again shooting
through your orgasm-restrained body. I pull your right thigh away from the
tree, slide my hand across the hip bone and reach for your clit. My
fingers begin a furious massage inside your sopping cunt.
I ease my cock deeper into you, the head slipping past the outer
sphincter. The pain is intense. you exhale with a sob, inhale deeply,
bite your lip to deal with the pain. I hold your hips firmly with both
hands, preventing you from wriggling away. The pressure forces you against
the bark, abrading the skin, making it feel raw.
When you think you can't stand it another second, you feel a wave of
warm pleasure begin inside your cunt and spread through your groin. your
clit throbs. I push my cock in farther, and you feel like you're floating
on a cloud. "I want you to cum, my whore," I whisper into your ear.
Before I can finish giving permission, you're an orgasm. your entire body
spasms, quivering uncontrollably, and your hips undulating up and down and
backward and forward against me and away from me as waves of pain and
pleasure heave through your ravaged body.
I let your anal contractions massage my cock. I begin to groan,
fighting to withhold my own orgasm, which sets off your next climax. your
heart is pounding, your clit throbbing with heat. your pussy pushes
against the tree, seeking contact. The insides of your thighs will need
some aloe. The second climax lasts longer than the first. My cock begins
twitching deep in your ass.
"I want you to cum again for me," I demand. I withdraw from your ass,
then drive forward, pinning you against the tree, pounding into you. My
right hand finds your right breast, cups it, pulls your upper body away
from the tree. Simultaneous with a deep thrust, I pull and twist your
right nipple cruelly. The pain and the pleasure swirling through you are
now indistinguishable. My heavy chest lays upon your back as I stroke in
and out of you, pinning you roughly against the tree. As my orgasm becomes
inevitable, I grab your forearms just above the elbow and squeeze them hard
as I slam my dick into you over and over. your face slid against the rock,
feeling its cool coarseness.
your third orgasm hits harder than either of the previous ones. you
can't breathe, but emit a guttural sound. It sounds like an animal wailing
above the thunder.
I lean back slightly to change the angle of thrust and continue to
stroke unrelentingly. your body is exhausted, but you don't want it to
stop until I've cum. Low rumblings in my throat change to chest-deep
growls as I reach my climax. My words are unintelligible. My cock
explodes, my cum filling the condom sheath on the penis in your ass. The
tremors of still another orgasm are beginning to fill you.
As my orgasm subsides, my grip loosens and I release your arms. My
spent cock slides out.
To be continued . . . . . .
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