BOUND AND TORTURED
By John Roper (LovesRoper@AOL.com)
Lisa's the kind of woman who, once she sets her sights on what she wants, pulls
out all her stops until she gets it. Though barely into her twenties, she's
hardly what one would call a novice where bondage and discipline are concerned,
having experienced her first inescapable fix at the ripe old age of seven, when
cousin Anita tied her to a tree in the thick strip of woodland that separated
back yards from the ones opposite hers. The ropes were not all that tight, but
well tied by her older playmate, giving Lisa a major first taste of what it's
like to be bound and held fast to nature's sometimes unexpected surprises.
A thunder and lightning storm rose quickly during the first half hour of her
escape attempt, surrounding her thoroughly, all-consuming adventure with an aura
of undeniable peril. In the minutes that followed, Lisa was drenched and beside
herself with uncommon excitement. Though not gagged, she refused to call out for
help, knowing that, to do so, could possibly end the experience in a way she
preferred not to control or influence, given the odd, offbeat sensations and
pleasures involved. Her wrists were crossed and bound together behind the tree.
Cinches at the knees and ankles, tied to the rough bark, held her legs in check
in such a way as to allow only abbrasive movement, creating a discomfort zone
over which she had full and immediate control. 50 feet of quarter inch thick
clothseline pinned Lisa's upper body to the thin trunk, which, given the windy
conditions, made for some very precarious combinations of bark management to
deal with.
The summer storm went on for almost 45 minutes, suggesting to Lisa that her
cousin might be more of a bad girl than their otherwise benign relationship had
thus far revealed.
14 YEARS LATER
It was summer again, and Lisa was standing at the front door of an A-frame in
the sleepy-old, Catskills ski town of Hempville, waiting to meet a perfect
stranger whose outgraeous reputation had been tickling her fancy through a
telephone talk line for many a month. She'd driven 2 hours to get to this moment
and place, fingering herself for most of the trip, fantasizing outcomes and such
enroute to a time and place she'd waited years to arrive at. Now that the
tantalizing moment had come, and her trepidations had reached their boiling
points, Lisa did her best to pull herself together with a deep breath and a
reminding word to her inner reasoning. 'Remember, girl, he came highly
recommended by your best friend, and she isn't half as kinky as you are.'
A handsome gentleman of about 40 or so opened the door and said, "Right on time.
I like that. Come in."
Their eye contact waxed intense before broken by Lisa's habitually deceptive
nature. They settled in on opposite sides of a huge room on the first floor. She
wore tight jeans and red tank top, with white tennis shoes.The coffee table in
front of the couch upon which Lisa sat, with legs pressed close together,
contained a cold beer in a frosted mug.
"Had you arrived late," spoke her host, "it would be flat and warm. Thirsty?"
She was. "Not really."
The game had obviously shifted into second gear.
"Drink it anyway," said Lisa's new player, "or prolong the inevitable." He then
stood and left the room, and Lisa to her thoughts.
'I hate when they do that,' she winced, knowing full well the beer was spiked.
Since the 60 hour weekend her new mystery man had planned would be a hell of a
lot more fulfilling if she just did what she was told, and since good friend
Celine's rave reviews made the adventure as safe as a baby's crib, the spiked
beverage was gulped empty. 'Once more into the breach,' she quipped as the beer
went down, quenching Lisa's sensual thirst to a factor of one, out of a possible
ten.
TWO HOURS LATER
'Where am I?' she wondered as her brain waves rose to a level whereupon the
conscious side of her could co-perceive the strange dream she was having. In it,
Lisa wandered the halls of a huge house, searching for a bathroom. 'I have to
pee.' But every door she tried was locked, and every corridor she walked seemed
to go on forever. She was also very sexually aroused. The combination of bladder
pressure and sexually driven, sensual stimulation soon inspired a gradually
intensified series of physical undulations, all of which dead-ended with the
unmistakable knowledge of Lisa's total incapacitation. 'I'm tied up.' she
noticed. ('Up' being the operative word here.) 'Who'd've guessed.'
She was also, except for her pink-silk panties, naked and stretched in three,
very distended directions. The ball gag, with sponge stuffing, was the first
restraint she played with before checking her wrists, which had been crossed and
bound with seven feet of quarter inch, nylon line, and tied to what she figured
was a post or something above her head. The feel of something against her spine
soon brought her to the realization that she was on her back and lashed to the
continuation of that hard, narrow surface. Her legs, too, could feel something
under them, but only her ankles were tied to it, spread apart at an angle of
about 45 degrees.
But the biggest surprise came when Lisa opened her eyes and stared into what she
soon surmised were the upper branches of a large, profusely endowed tree. Then
came the subtle rocking motion that caused a sexy shiver to escape her
now-fascinated and very sensually curious awareness. 'I'm tied to the branch of
a tree.' She instinctively rolled her head and eyes right to find out how high
she was. 'Wohohoh!' Was all Lisa could think when reality caught up with her in
the form of a 30 foot drop to the ground. She fisted her hands and struggled a
bit to make sure there was no way she could fall. The ropes held her fast and
tightly to the Y-shaped branch at the groin, buttocks, waist, and chest, with
circles of 3/8ths inch thick line. Her breasts were framed attractively, above
and below their billowing vulnerability, with three turns of rope. Other ropes
held her arms to the branch as well. 'Where's the crotch rope?' she lamented
autonomically.
She was fully awake now, and struggling pleasurably in her outrageous
predicament for all she was worth. It didn't take long for her pussy to moisten
considerably, and for the bladder pressure to reach a level of pleasurable
discomfort it had never been on before. 'That was a big mug of beer,' figured
Lisa when the diobolical aspect of the offered beverage caught up with her
hyperactive reasoning.
The sun was out, but increasing cloudiness suggested a storm might be in the
offing. The zero wind velocity also gave further evidence to Lisa's rising
suspicions. 'The calm before the storm.'
Before she could worry about the possibilities at hand, the sensation of being
slowly lowered overtook her immediate and undivided attention. A rope, tied to
the branch directly under her waist, was being drawn down by what felt like a
mechanical force, since it remained steady and did not diminish when the bowing
of the branch demanded more pulling strength than a mere mortal could muster.
The closer Lisa got to the ground, the more aware she became of the rope's
origination point. As the angle of her suspension increased, the more she saw of
the half inch thick line below. It ran from the branch, to a pully anchored into
the ground in such a way that when her feet were a foot or so off of it, the
pully would be directly under her ass cheeks. The rope continued along the
ground in front of her, and disappeared into the thick underbrush surrounding
the tree's clearing. 'Wow',' was all Lisa could think when she realized the
mecahnism that brought her to within a few inches of the ground was so far away
she couldn't hear the sound of it. 'Have I stepped into it, or what?'
Within less than a minute Lisa's body was in an upright posture, with toes
surrounded by the feel of thick grass, tickling her sense of wonder and wild
abandon as she carefully writhed herself into a fit of unprecedented, sensualy
excitement. A look around assured her there were no holes in the foliage to
worry about, should a passerby inadvertently come upon the scene's periphery.
"How'we doin'?" asked a familiar male voice from behind Lisa's field of vision.
"Muh?"
He walked around in front of her, dressed only in tight fitting, tan cords, and
dark brown boots. The riding crop in his right hand raised Lisa's sensual
attention another notch or two. He stood between her legs and toyed with her
nipples with the end of the crop, while his free hand gently caressed her inner
thighs. "Looks like a storm's gettin' ready to blow," said the new kink in Lisa
Bigal's life, softly. He drew closer. (It occurred to her that someone else
might be controlling the pully mechanism.)
Our new damsel tried to stretch closer, hoping to rub up against her master's
arm. The ropes said no. "Muh." He took her right nipple in his thumb and index
finger and squeezed. "Muhuhuh." The inner thigh petting grew intense. "MMUHUH!"
Lisa threw her head back and writhed wildly in her bondage. The wind climbed to
10 MPH. A healthy helping of icy-hot ointment was then applied to her nipples,
thighs and crotch. The feel of her binder's hand under her panties caused Lisa's
delicate fingers to flair and flail expressively. Her tormentor then stepped
back and gave her right thigh a taste of what the riding crop had to offer. Its
stinging impact had its desired effect. "MMMMUHUHUHUH!!" The second blow landed
on her left thigh. The third, the right, and so on and so forth, on and off. for
the next 200 or so seconds.
The sky darkened with gray cloud cover. The wind accelerrated to 20 MPH, with an
occasional 35 MPH gust...
When the whipping stopped, Lisa looked down to watch her dom affix a line to the
front of the waist ropes, which he guided between her legs, centering it on her
crevice before turning and walking away in the same direction the branch tether
rope led. The crotch rope was very loose, a disappointment over which Lisa
immediately grieved. 'Shit!'
Meanwhile, the storm continued to furiously upset and toss about everything that
wasn't nailed down, while the strokes on Lisa's thighs began to seriously smart,
driving the outer reaches of her masochistically prone libido to newer heights
of psychosexual appeasement and need. It suddenly occurred to her the branch she
had come to know so well was slowly lifting off the ground. 'Now what?' And, of
course, there was the ever-present need to pee with which to contend. And to
make matters even more impossible, the rope between her legs was now digging
deeply into her pantied pussy, thanks to a three pound, scale weight tied to its
dangling end. It had rested on the ground until an altitude of 5 feet had been
achieved. Inch by inch, Lisa's pleasurably struggling body was raised up into
the wind blown branches of the tree. Higher and higher she climbed, past the 30
foot point at which the episode she'd come to Hempville to experience began,
until her body was just a few inches away from the green branches above.
A flash of lightning caused Lisa's bound and bothered body to girate
uncontrollably in the sudden fear of its instantaneously overwhelming
enlightenment. The crackle of thunder soon followed as the wind kicked up to a
constant 35 MPH. It was then that the icy-hot cream her playmate had spread so
liberally over her breasts, thighs and crotch decided to burn its freezing
presence into the mix of Lisa's overwhelmed, physical awareness. 'Good Lord,'
she commented, 'this is way too intense for a simple country girl like me.' But
her commitment had already been consumated, her fate sealed by the curiosity
she'd so longed to satisfy. 'He's not just going to leave me out here like
this.'
The thought took Lisa into a new realms of sexaul arousal, to levels of fear and
pleasure never before enjoyed or withstood within the context of her BDSM
experience. Flashbacks of her tree tie at age seven with cousin Anita caused
every muscle memory in her fantasy life to dance crazily with unabashed abandon.
The rope between her legs kept knawing at her pussy in concert with every
writhing motion and wind swept conflagration brought on by the ever-intesifying
thunderstorm. 'I'll be damned if this isn't the most fantastic thing that's ever
happened to me.'
Another, closer bolt of lightning lit up the scene like a coterie of electronic
flashes at a heated press conference. One second later, the thunder that
followed gave Lisa reason to believe the full fury of the storm would soon be
upon her. 'One second, one mile,' she figured as the feel of rough bark dug into
her furiously struggling back, arms, ass cheeks and legs. There was simply no
way to effectively control the haphazard pressure of the weighted crotch rope,
thanks to the several tight turns of thick hemp that held Lisa's upper thighs
and lower abdomen to the three prong design of the branch she so loved and hated
amidst her increasingly diametric dilemma. 'I hope he knows what he's doing. I
sure don't.'
It was then that Lisa could no longer control her need to pee. It gushed out of
her like a fire hose, together with the beginnings of her first multiple. The
storm reached its intensity apex and the branches above slapped harshly and
without mercy against her wildly twitching and squirming attempts at escape.
"MMUHUH!"
A symphony of pain and pleasure, intermingling ominously with the no-choice
thunderstorm sound and visual effects that accompanied Lisa's groaning and
screaming, made the moment-to-moment impact of surprise whippings from the above
branches crackle with unexpected distress. 'Oh-my-God...Oh-my-God...Oh-my-God!'
"MMMUHUHUH!!!"
Everything that had been smeared with ointment burned to be touched, fondled,
satisfied. Every muscle stretched and pulled to heighten the multiple effect now
invading Lisa's groin. It started to rain heavily, adding yet another layer of
sensual input to the ride, another natural element to deal with. The branch
raised and lowered as it swung from side to side in violent response to the
wind's ever-increasing velocity. The multiple seemed to go on forever, as did
the release of hot urine from Lisa's thoroughly violated, self-control. Blanket
after blanket of rain bathed her in their powerfully splashing insistance,
giving new meaning to the term 'baptism' as the wind peaked at an uncommon 56
MPH and Lisa's final string of spasms slowly and convulsingly tapered off during
the final 90 seconds of her more-than-wished-for ordeal. She stopped struggling
to allow nature to run its course with her body, mind, and spirit during that
final minute and a half, and wondered,'So this is what Celine meant when she
said, "Be prepared for something entirely different".'
And it was only the second hour of the 60 she had agreed to without safe words
or predetermined limits.
When the flash storm started tapering off, so did Lisa's passion. By the time
both had ended, she had fallen asleep, only to dream yet another
fantasy-in-the-making, before another, more intense session introduced her
experience to yet another layer of reality whereupon the sexually adventurous
possibilities of being bound and tortured could again be explored without
interruption.
+
PS:Dear reader: If you have in your PC possession a story, photo, sketch,
whatever, that you think might appeal to this writer, please send it to me, and
feel free to pass this story along to whomever you think might enjoy it.
