Dangerous Games

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WARNING! THIS IS A WORK OF EROTIC BDSM FICTION. IT IS ADULT ORIENTED MATERIAL

OF A SEXUAL AND VIOLENT NATURE. The copyright of this story remains with the author, Night Owl. This posting does not give you the rights to post this on

any website. You must obtain the author's permission prior to posting.

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Dangerous Games

by Night Owl

Chapter Posted: 08/08

(Story Content: M/f, Outdoor Bondage)

Chapter 4

"David!"

She kept calling again and again until her voice was hoarse. If this was a joke, it was a very cruel one. Deep down though, Shana knew it wasn't. She saw what happened with her own eyes. David had stumbled somehow while climbing down the rock and lost hold of his rope.

She began to squirm again, only this time, it was for real. The chains tinkled with laughter as she tried to pull the pitons out of the rock. She then began twisting her hands in the shackles with the hope of slipping them out, but it was no use, the steel was clapped on too tight, even for her tiny wrists.

This had to be a joke, she thought. It was just a stunt to make her believe he had fallen. David was always into scenarios during their bondage games, and they usually involved him scaring the shit out of her. Right now, he was probably hiding behind a rock somewhere, still naked with a hard-on and a stupid grin on his face, watching.

"DAVID!" Shana called again. "Stop fucking around get over here, Damn it!"

No answer.

Minutes slipped by, and so did the wispy notion that she was merely the victim of her boyfriend's sick humor. Dreadful pictures began to slip into her imagination - of David lying on jagged rocks in the canyon below, unconscious, or too hurt to call out. Or worse, he could be dead. If that was true, then she was going to be spending the night here, and the next day, and the next, and so on. Maybe forever.

"DAVID!"

Shana listened again for any sign of him - a cry for help, a moan, laughter, anything.

"David?"

Still nothing.

How could she have gotten herself into this? Shana thought a moment about the terrible consequences facing her, then almost cried out with frustration. In six hours or so the sun would be up. Judging by the path of the moon above, she figured to be facing the east. Come morning, the sun's rays would be boring down on her, burning her naked, spread-eagled body to a crisp. If starvation didn't kill her, the exposure would, and it would be a long, slow ordeal.

Suddenly, and not surprisingly, she panicked, and the full-fledged, mindless terror of what she was facing fell on her. For 30 seconds or so, she was totally in its grip. A thin rod of rational consciousness remained deep inside her, but it was helpless, like a dismayed specter watching the woman twist and wreath helplessly, hearing her hoarse, frightened screams.

Finally, a deep glassy pain at the base of her neck, just above the place where her left shoulder started, put a stop to her panic-attack. It was a muscle cramp, a bad one. Moaning, she rested her head on the rock and tried to relax until it passed. Her calf muscles sent a faint twang of tiredness. They were strong for a woman, but she had been standing on the tips of her toes for what seemed like hours, though more likely only 20 minutes or so.

The cold night air was also giving her problems, and with no way of cover herself up, all she could do to keep warm was press herself hard against the rock to try and retain its dwindling warmth. Fortunately, this was a desert climate and she didn't expect the temperature to drop much further, so in spite of how chilled it was, at least there was no danger of hypothermia. She even welcomed the coolness, knowing she had about six hours or so to get out of this before sun-up. 

She pulled on the steel shackles again, not out of panic this time, but to test them for any weaknesses. There was no way of breaking the chains, but with a little patience, Shana thought she might be able to loosen the pitons from the rock. Moving her right arm back and forth, she began yanking the chain against the piton, hoping that might loosen it.

"Damn It! Why did he have to pound them in so deep."

She kept at it though, jerking the chain one way against the piton then the other, until her arm ached so much she could barely move it. She decided to rest that one and work with the other arm in the same way. She didn't get very far though, before her thighs and calves began to shake from fatigue after being on her toes for so long. With a whimper, Shana relaxed her legs and shifted all her weight on her arms, which were already aching terribly. Looking down at herself, she could see her breasts, cool and pimpled, her nipples pointing outward unabashedly in the night air. Suddenly, something fluttered over her head down into the canyon below. A bat, most-likely.

She gazed down into the dark chasm where the moonlight couldn't reach. It seemed like Shana was teetering on the edge of a black void, her bare flesh opened up in all its intimate glory to the nothingness below. In spite of the horrible fate she was now facing, the thought of being some kind of sacrifice still excited her. Shana tilted her head back against the rock and chose to look at the dark sky instead. The stars seemed even more clear and beautiful than before, like a piece of blue velvet, dusted with diamonds. Looking up, there seemed to be life. The moon had become her friend, doing its best to offer warmth by bathing her in its light. Shana suddenly felt very lonely, knowing that it could only stay and keep her company for a few more hours, and then her enemy, the sun would rise up and ravage her with its scalding rays. She thought of David. She knew he was dead now, but she couldn't bring herself to even shed a tear for him yet.  

After about 15 minutes of rest, Shana felt enough strength return in her legs to raise herself back up on her toes. She then began working on the pitons again. At least an hour had passed before she felt the piton on her right wrist begin to loosen a bit, but again she was too tired to do anymore. Shana's slender, petite figure was just not built to withstand such a workout. Moaning, she let her body slump, for what she thought would be the last time. Not long after, an uneasy sleep claimed her.

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When Shana finally awoke, it was with a start. The muzzy feeling in her head disappeared almost immediately with first pull of the chains, and her heart clicked into higher gear. Panic sure beat the hell out of smelling salts! She looked up into the dark sky to try and figure out how much time had passed. The stars were almost gone, and the moon out of sight behind her. It seemed much colder too.

"God, why did I let myself fall asleep!"

Slowly she lifted herself up against the rock. Sharp, needles of pain shot into her biceps and triceps like a pin cushion. The needles faded away to nothing at her elbows, and Shana realized with soupy, just waking dismay, that her forearms were mostly without feeling, and her hands might as well have been gloves stuffed with mashed potatoes. This was going to hurt!

She rolled her hands open and closed several times, wincing as she did so. She could hear the faint rattle of the chains, and took a moment to wonder if she and David had been crazy to do this in the first place. It certainly seemed so now, although she had no doubt that thousands of couples all over the world played dangerous games like this every day. She had read that there were even sexually free spirits who hanged themselves in their closets, and then masturbated as the blood supply to their heads slowly decreased to nothing. Such news only served to increase her belief that men were not so much gifted with penises, but cursed by them. Of course, she was just as much to blame for her current predicament as David was.

Once the feeling in her hands came back, Shana began working on the pitons again, jerking the chain back and forth . . . back and forth. The sun was just starting to light up the eastern sky, and she was no where near to loosening the damn things. It was going to be very long day.

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The mosquitos came out not long after first light searching for their morning meal, and Shana made the perfect target, being naked and helpless up as she was. She did her best to shake them off, using what little motion the chains allowed, and still accumulated quite a few bites. As the sun rose, the insects took cover from its heat. Shana could not. Just as she had anticipated earlier, the first rays hit her spread-eagled body full force. Not only that, but the canyon acted much like an oven, trapping the heat within, so that by mid-morning, the temperature already felt like it had risen to over 90 degrees. Fresh beads of sweat glistened off her breasts, inside her hollowed armpits and off her legs.

She continued working on the pitons, first one and then the other, with about a 10 minute rest for her legs. The piton on her right was really beginning to loosen up, but her upper arms ached so much, it became increasingly difficult just to move them a mere few inches. Even worse, her hands had lost all feeling in spite of her attempts to keep the circulation going. They were also light purple in color and growing darker. That wasn't good. Shana kept her eyes focused on her right wrist and tried to block out the pain shooting up and down her poor limbs. 

Another hour passed. The temperature kept rising. Shana could see the heat wafting up from the rocks around her. Rivers of sweat flowed out of her pores, tickling her, drenching every inch of her nude body. Her long blonde hair snaked in dark strands against her forehead, neck and back.

"I'm going to die here," she moaned to herself, "and when they find me, they'll know exactly how it happened. My family, my friends . . . they'll know too."

Shana rolled her head sideways, tears of pain and humiliation flowing with her sweat down her cheeks.

Time crept slowly by. Her desert-tanned skin began to turn a bright red as the suns rays bore down on her body. Her lips were chapped and the inside of her mouth felt like it was lined with cotton. She couldn't even swallow anymore, her throat was so dry.

Looking up and squinting at the sun, she noticed a hawk circling above, probably looking for food. She watched for awhile, then realized it was too big to be a hawk. It was a vulture.

"So this is the creature I am to be sacrificed to," Shana almost laughed.

No doubt she was the target of interest, and soon there would two of them, and then three, circling, descending ever closer with each pass. Shana wondered if the last experience in this life would be of their sharp, ugly beaks picking away at her flesh. She could scream and drive them away, but as weak and hoarse as she was, that wouldn't help much.

A line of sweat trickled down from one shackled wrist and tickled her armpit. Suddenly, Shana's weary thoughts snapped alert. Looking up, she noticed her wrists were as sweaty as the rest of her body. Twisting her left hand within the metal shackle, she began pulling.

She couldn't get her wrists through the night before, but now, her perspiration was acting as a lubricant. She twisted and pulled with all of her remaining strength, nearly rubbing her flesh raw. She pulled and twisted, twisted and pulled, her heart pounding with adrenaline until her hand finally slipped past the shackle.

She was free!

Shana grimaced from the pain when her free arm dropped to her side like a piece of dead wood. She took a moment to stretch and get her circulation going so she could reach over to the other wrist. The piton to her left was actually very loose, and with her free hand she was able to work it free from the rock. It took a few more minutes to get the circulation going in that arm, then slowly she bent down, grabbed a rock nearby and used it to break free the pitons her ankles were chained to.

The sun was directly overhead now, and the heat stifling. She moved carefully along the ledge, and searched for anything she could wear, but found nothing.

"Damn It," she nearly screamed. "That son of a bitch was really going to make me shimmy up that rope with no clothes!"

Suddenly, Shana grew silent. During the last few hours, she hadn't even thought of David. She made her way up the path as quickly as she could to the spot where she thought he had fallen. Perhaps he was still alive - injured and unconscious maybe - but alive. Standing at the edge of a finger-shaped rock, Shana carefully peered into the canyon. About fifty feet below, she saw her boyfriend, lying naked and motionless on his back, his right leg and neck twisted at impossible angles. He was dead. She could tell even from this distance. The fall had most-likely killed him, so at least he didn't suffer. Shana stepped back and leaned against the wall of the ledge. She wanted to cry out, wanted the tears to flow, but nothing happened. She had been through so much already, that every emotion, every thought was geared only on her survival and nothing else. Besides, there would be plenty of time for crying later.

She found the rope still dangling nearby. Grasping it tightly with both hands, she placed her feet on the upward sloping rock and began her climb. It was a strange feeling, scaling the rock naked, save for her hiking boots. It was also more challenging climbing up the canyon, especially in her weakened condition. At the steepest part, she lost her footing completely, and her grip slipped down the rope about two feet before she got hold of it again, burning her palms terribly and scraping the front of her body against the gritty stone. Hanging by her hands, she raised one leg high and found a firm foot hold, then pulled herself up.

By the time she reached the top, Shana was exhausted and covered with at least a dozen wounds all over her body. Looking around, she saw that David had left his pack under a bush nearby. She crawled over and opened it. There were no clothes, but she found two bottles of water and the keys to the locks on her remaining shackles. She drank nearly all of the water, then after freeing her wrists and ankles from their bindings, threw the pack over one shoulder and made her way back to camp.

She finally found her shorts and tank top there, and downed some more water before collapsing under a tree. Shana figured it would take at least an hour of rest before she could hike back down to the jeep. After that, her thoughts would turn to David and the grieving could begin. Laying still in the shade, she felt the black ants crawling around her again, but this time she paid them little mind.

End