One Weekend Stand Ch. 05

He knew right away that, once again, fantasy wasn't going to conform to reality. Sure, he wanted to hook her up to one of the stanchions and have his way with her. But the reality was that it just wasn't going to happen. Or, at least, it wouldn't happen if he was going to be responsible about it. Because for him, the thrill of any bondage wasn't just being in complete control. It was being able to control what she experienced in the most minute manner. To manipulate her senses, blindfold her, restrict her, make her all the more aware of every tactile sensation.

Stretched helpless and naked before him, her anticipation would be palpable. And he would do everything possible to stretch that anticipation to, and past, its breaking point. To ramp her up slowly, every action an exquisite torture, the mystery of the next touch more painful than any blow upon her skin. The ominous silence of her existence punctuated only by the coarse harshness of his orders. And her whole self held prisoner at the mercy of a man playing a game whose rules she doesn't know and can't begin to guess.

But to achieve that, to bring her to the point of torturous ecstasy, he would need time. And while they had plenty of time, the fates and the builders had conspired against him, placing each and every station in the direct center of a sun-scorched clearing. Not a problem for most women. But for someone with skin as fair as hers it was a big problem. He didn't fancy sending her back to her husband all sunburned. or chancing a burn that might impact any of that evening's activities, whatever they might turn out to be.

He explained it to her, and was surprised by a reaction that ran more toward disappointment than relief. Or was he misreading her in the hopes that it could be true? He got a definite answer when she placed both her hands behind her back, as if already handcuffed, then turned her back to him as if offering to be restrained.

His mind raced ahead, trying to construct a scenario that would work for both of them. In the trees there'd be protection from the scorching sun. And the trunks, while rough, were thin enough to take a rope or chain. For that matter, just binding her wrists and ankles would probably be adventure enough for her. And if she got a little dirty on the forest floor, no matter. She'd be showering again soon, anyway.

His decision not to use the table and other frames made sense, but was a bit of a letdown. Finally her chance to really try something kinky, and the weather conspires against her. She wasn't about to give up that easily, though, and when she blatantly offered herself to him she was pleased to see how quickly he'd contrived a solution. Sometimes being spontaneous is more about being creative than anything else.

They dragged the backpacks of supplies into the trees and out of the infernal sun. Even the zippers and clasps were hot to the touch. She could barely imagine what it would be like to be tied to that hot table and baking in the blazing sunlight. Not pleasant, that was for sure. It was much cooler here in the trees, though the naked intent in her companion's eyes scorched her in a much different way.

He explained that he could give her a taste of what it's really like, if she was so inclined. When she nodded, he led her to one of the thinner pines, but still about a foot around. They'd start with a little light bondage, nothing too tight, but just enough to add to her feeling of vulnerability. She didn't understand why he was telling her all this. Wouldn't knowing it take away from the experience? Besides, she'd been tied up before. A boyfriend had once tied her to the bedposts. And she'd worn those cheesy fake handcuffs for her husband one time, when he wanted something special for his birthday. Being helpless didn't bother her so much.

When he put the blindfold on her, that changed. She was almost immediately disoriented. She couldn't really hear him moving about; she could only sense his presence. She jumped a bit whenever he touched her. It didn't matter that his touching was perfectly innocent, a gentle press upon her waist to move her one way or another. She couldn't see it coming, so his fingers upon her took on a much more malevolent meaning in her mind. He was doing that on purpose, she realized. Taking his hands from her and putting them back somewhere else. She remembered reading something about how to handle horses, who were pretty much blind everywhere but towards the head. You would always keep one hand on them, to reassure them that you weren't up to no good. And so you wouldn't get kicked by mistake. He could reassure her by keeping one hand on her as he moved her about. But he was trying to unsettle her.

Even knowing that, she was still startled when he unfastened her chain bra and pulled it from her body, all the while whistling a tuneless tune. It was doubly disconcerting to be unexpectedly touched and to hear him whistling as though this were no more important that washing the car. She felt herself smiling, like she did when she was nervous, then quickly bit her lip. She didn't want him to think that she was making fun of him. A shiver went up and down her spine. She was already unnerved, and there was no telling what he would do to her if he thought she was being condescending.

She'd already forgotten that she'd been a consenting accomplice. Now she felt as if he held all the cards. And all he'd done was blindfold her and take her top off.

With gentle nudges, he pushed her back against the rough tree bark, then pulled her arms behind her and bound her wrists with rope. Now, if she wanted to get loose, the only way was to ask for it. That made her feel more helpless than ever. Which started the doubts flowing. How much, really, did she know about him? Was he the type to just play mind games with her? Or would he treat her more cruelly, then laugh it off later as just being part of the game? What if he left her tied here? What if someone else happened along? Would he have them keep quiet, taking extra amusement in knowing that she'd been exposed and humiliated in sight of a stranger? Would he leave her tied here? What if he went away for an hour and left her to her own imagination? Or left her to whoever might be wandering these woods? What would some horny hick do if he found a naked, blindfolded woman tied to a tree? It'd be hard for him to fuck her standing up, more difficult than if she was facing the other way, but it could still be done. He could grope her and lick her and penetrate her and there'd be nothing she could do about it. Nobody to hear her screams...

An unexpected kiss on her lips stilled her fears. He wouldn't do that, wouldn't leave her. She did know enough about him to know that he wasn't that way, not in real life. He was having fun with her, sure, but she had wanted to try something different. And even if she didn't like it, she'd never have to do it again. Because he wouldn't ever expect to be in this situation with her again. Her heart was finally slowing after the way she'd worked herself up. The thing was, she already did like it.

He placed something, a chain of some sort, in the palm of one of her hands. The end of the chain had a strange nub on it. Just from fingering it, she couldn't tell what it was or what it was for. Suddenly his hands were on her left breast, stroking it, coddling it, cupping it. She tried to press against him but was disappointingly restrained by the ropes behind her back. The instinctive response to his touch would have to be enough.

He began to explain what he had in his hand as he rubbed the cold metal against her flesh. A nipple chain. In loving detail he told her how it worked, how he could set the tension of the spring-loaded clamps on each end, how those clamps would be attached to her nipples, how only slutty sex slaves were allowed to wear one. And how wearing it made her his property, until he decided to take it off.

He said the last in a deep, raspy whisper, his mouth right next to her ear. It sounded evil and she couldn't help shivering. It felt like she was watching a particularly suspenseful horror movie. No, it felt like she was in it. Every psychotic killer movie came back to her. What did she really know about him?

She was still contemplating that when he attached the clamps to her nipples, first the left, then the right. The sensation was just below the level of real pain. More like a stinging that never really went away. He tugged at the chain a couple times, pulling on her nipples in the process. That hurt enough to make her gasp and whimper a little, but she'd already decided not to give him the pleasure of hearing her cry out. Though she was under no illusions. He could very easily make her do just that.

His fingers searched between her legs and confirmed what she'd already expected. She was wet. Very wet. And turned on enough that she didn't want to settle for just his fingers inside her pussy. She wanted more. And she wanted it rough.

He stepped back to admire his handiwork. There wasn't much to it, so far. Just a simple blindfold and her arms loosely tied around the trunk of the tree. He knew that the rough bark against her back and her butt was adding to the sensation, as was the cool ground against the soles of her feet. In her mind she was already helpless, blind and unable to move. But there was much more he could do to enhance that feeling.

He already knew that he'd leave her ears uncovered. Her imagination would do more than anything physical he might try. Her mouth, though, that called for something. She probably still believed she could call for help if the need arose. People would call for help on a deserted island, even if there was no hope for help. Yelling just seemed to help.

After rummaging through the backpacks he found exactly what he needed. Without a word of explanation, he fastened the straps around the back of her head. Then it was a simple task to place the ball gag in her mouth, using his finger to make sure her tongue was under the ball. He'd chosen one with a whiffle-type of ball, replete with holes, so she could still breath even if her nose was plugged up. But if she tried to talk or scream, only some muffled noises would come out. She struggled at first, the expression on her face one that could've been surprise or outrage. But she calmed a bit when he whispered his intentions to her, how he didn't want her to disturb the neighbors when she finally broke down and begged him for release.

He was sure it was that last challenge that caught her attention. She was determined not to be broken by him. Bent, maybe. Pushed to the limit, perhaps. But never broken. She still stood proud and defiant, despite the gag, the blindfold and having her hands tied. He admired her lines once again, this time in the bright of the day. Her hair brushed down just across her shoulders, enhancing the apparent fragility of her neck. He wondered if she liked to be pretend choked as so many women did. But he wouldn't try it, because those who didn't like it really didn't like it. The tendons in her bare shoulders were prominent, with her arms pulled so tightly behind her back. That same posture caused her tits to stand out even more seductively, the clamps on her nipples keeping them tantalizingly erect. Her slim stomach and curve of her waist reminded him of a teenager's body, fresh and untainted. She had a birthmark just below her breast, and seeing it caused him to smile. He'd given it extra attention the night before, kissing it over and over as if to thank the gods for her birth. They'd come so far since then.

The flat of her stomach sloped down to her neatly trimmed pussy patch, and then down to the hooded top of her slit, where her clit undoubtedly already lay pulsing, ready to be called on for greater and greater pleasure. Her legs were thin though her thighs were strong, as he'd learned over and over during the last 24 hours. Had it actually been that long? There was so much more he had to learn about her. And so much more he wanted to do with her. And to her.

As he appraised her ankles, thin and a bit knobby, he got an idea. It would bleed some of that defiance away and it still fit in with the rest of his plans. He'd been using the pole as a walking stick. The cuffs were in the backpack. It was simple enough to snap the cuffs to the pole. Again without telling her, he bent and attached one ankle to the end of the spreader bar and the other ankle to the other end. Now she had to work hard to balance herself, her legs held spread open by the metal pole, ankles cuffed in place. Only after he had her properly positioned did he tell her what he'd done. How she was now truly helpless. How her cunt was open to him no matter what she wanted. How she could neither run for help or call for help. How only her complete and total submission would get her out of this predicament. And if she understood and would comply, how she needed to nod her head twice. She did.

As if to punctuate his dominant position, and just because he wanted to, he squatted before her and pulled her pussy lips wide, opening her cunt to his up close inspection. She was soaked in juice, droplets rolling out, finally released from their cave. She smelled delicious, tangy and humid, and he leaned forward to explore her cunt with his tongue. She writhed against him in response, alternately pressing back against the tree and pressing herself forward against his face, as if repulsed and fired by the attention. He pressed his tongue into her cunt hole deep inside her pussy and she moaned through the ball gag. He knew his tongue wasn't long enough to penetrate too far, but from her reactions, as far as he'd gotten was just far enough.

He pulled back the skin around her clit, examining it in an almost clinical way. It was amazing that so small a bump, no more than a nub, could provide her with so much pleasure. He'd read once that all the nerves in a man's penis were packed into that tiny area in a woman. He knew how exquisite the sensations could be for him. Then how exquisitely torturous could it be for her, should he miss-use her nerve packed clit? He let the rough edge of his finger trail along the side of it, not quite touching it, but close enough to fire off some of those highly sensitive neurons. She bucked against him, screaming into the gag, her cunt flexing compulsively, her limbs writhing against their bonds. A man could deliver a lot of pleasure, and a lot of discomfort, with one finger placed in just the right spot. Especially if his victim was essentially helpless, unable to even squeeze her thighs together to block his attempts. A man could do a lot with a woman in this position.

To be continued...