tagBDSMRiding the Rails

Riding the Rails

bytiedwide©

I knew he had been planning something unusual for several days before he broached the subject - there was just something in his manner that suggested he was thinking, analyzing, and preparing some new exploit. It's one of the things I love about him - he's always working out new things to try and new experiences for us to share. He finally came out with his latest idea as we were rinsing the dinner dishes and putting them in the dishwasher.

"Found a new place to play, by the way," he remarked casually.

"Oh, yeah? Where?" I asked.

"I wouldn't want to spoil the surprise - but I think you'll like it."

I smiled, wondering what he had in mind. He arched an eyebrow, grinning.

"When do you want to give it a try?" As if I didn't know, I arched an eyebrow right back at him.

"Ohh, let's see - how about now?" He chuckled, knowing that I had read him like a book. I nodded, grinning. "I'll grab the bag, and you won't need anything but that dress and your sandals."

"That dress" was, of course, my full-length chambray that buttons all the way from neckline to hem. As a dress, it's pretty plain and frumpy, but as clothing that can be easily removed, it's at the top of his list. I made a quick stop in the bathroom, then stripped and pulled on the faded old dress and stepped into my sandals, ready to go. I stepped out the door and pulled it closed behind me as he rolled out of the garage, then got in the car while he hit the button and watched the garage door roll down.

He drove us clear out of town, out past the suburbs and into an older industrial district. In its prime, I'm sure the area was a hive of activity, but economic problems had taken their toll and now the whole industrial zone lay quiet under buzzing orange security lights. I was struck by how odd and ghostly everything looked; the night was warm and humid, and the low clouds seemed to reflect the orange light everywhere like some surreal science-fiction landscape. With no stars or points of reference, my sense of scale was confused, and I could easily imagine this stark cubistic landscape stretching out forever, weird shapes and shadows piling on themselves into eternity. We rolled through the empty streets in silence, listening to the tires hiss on the pavement.

I had long since lost track of twists, turns, direction, and distance when he turned the car down into a sharp ramp and I saw that he was driving down into a sunken loading dock. The dock itself was more or less at ground level, but the ramp we were on allowed trucks to back down and put a trailer's doorway at dock level. In our case, the sunken ramp made a nice hiding place. The ramp was wide enough for three trucks, and he had no trouble turning around at the bottom and pointing the car back up the ramp.

"Poised for a quick getaway, hm?"

"Something like that."

"Mmmm," I purred, "then you must have something naughty in mind!"

He laughed, cut the engine, and got out of the car. I got out and waited while he pulled his knapsack from the back seat. He walked around to my side of the car, shrugging the shoulder straps into place, and then he kissed me deeply, wrapping himself around me and squeezing me tight.

"Turn around," he directed, pulling the handcuffs from his pocket. I complied, bringing my wrists together behind my back. He cuffed me carefully, then double-locked the cuffs so that they wouldn't ratchet down tighter and pinch my wrists. He turned me back to face him, then kissed me again.

"Come on, then - this way." He took me by the elbow and guided me up the ramp. As we walked back up to street level, I was struck again by the eerie landscape, falling back into my earlier post-apocalyptic fantasy of an endless barren industrial landscape.

It's hard to explain the sensation - just as one's eyes adjust to dim light and pick up more detail after a time, so my ears adapted to the odd silence and seemed to pick up more and more tiny sounds as we walked along. He led me right down the center of this street and that, and I noticed that each of the security lights buzzed at a slightly different frequency. At one point, a piece of newspaper blew down the street, and the sound it made seemed loud by comparison. I found myself holding my breath at odd times, straining to pick out tiny noises as if they were of supreme importance.

After walking in silence for a long time, I was totally lost once again. I could never have found the car on my own - all the buildings looked the same. He led me out into the exact center of a broad intersection, then stopped. I was afraid to speak, afraid to break the silence. The lights were everywhere, muttering to themselves.

"We need to be very quiet now," he whispered, shrugging off the knapsack and digging through it. In a moment, he pulled out my ball gag. "Very, very quiet," he continued, raising it to my lips. I opened my mouth and took it, and he secured the straps behind my head. "And you need to be very, very exposed."

He unbuttoned all my buttons with the skill of long practice, and my dress hung open at my sides. After stepping back to admire the view with his usual grin, he peeled the dress away to the sides and gathered the skirt, stuffing it up and over the handcuff chain behind me so that it hung out in back like a faded blue tail. The cloth ran from the back of my neck straight to my armpits, and from there to my wrists, baring me completely. He cupped my breast with a warm hand and kissed me again, then stepped away to leave me lit from every angle by the streetlights.

"That's better," he whispered, taking me by the elbow and leading me on.

Walking through the industrial park in handcuffs, clothed, was quite a bit different from walking virtually naked, cuffed, and gagged. I found myself trying to watch all the streets, windows, and angles of view at once, breathing harder and blushing deeply at the thought of someone, anyone, peeking out of a dark corner at my nakedness. My nipples went rock-hard even in the warm, moist air, and I felt myself getting warmer and wetter with every step. I cringed every time my sandals dragged on the street, feeling sure that small noise would draw attention. As always, he glided along on the balls of his feet, making no noise whatsoever. He paused now and again to caress me, stroke me, kiss me, but then always went back to marching me along. I began to get tired of walking, wondering about our destination.

He finally led me out of the industrial district, away from the lights, stopping at a railroad crossing. When he opened the cuffs and released my wrists, I rubbed them with my hands, flexing my fingers. He let me get comfortable, then slipped my dress off my shoulders to fall to the ground.

"Well, damsel," he murmured, "time for your distress!"

He waved at the railroad crossing, and I shivered in anticipation. At his urging, I lay down right in the middle of the road crossing, and he dug ropes from his knapsack and tied my wrists and ankles to the rails. When he had me tied securely, he set the knapsack and dress aside and fumbled with his trousers.

Then, he fucked me.

That simple statement doesn't even begin to describe the experience. He licked me, he stroked me, he got me so excited that I began to whimper against the gag in my mouth, and by the time he entered me I was thrashing, sweating, begging with my entire body to feel him inside me, fucking me, fucking me hard and deeply. I fought the ropes, screamed silently, opened my thighs and howled for him - and he hammered me hard, right there out in the open. When he came inside me, I almost died from shock and pleasure. Afterwards, I panted and sweated while he staggered to his feet and buttoned up. I lay spreadeagled in the middle of the crossing, pussy agape and dripping cum, imagining a train bearing down on me while passengers in cars watched in horror.

He took several hundred digital pictures afterwards, it seemed. Finally, he untied me and helped me to my feet. My knees shook as I leaned into him, thinking that he'd had enough for the evening. As it turned out, I was wrong.

"Come this way," he beckoned, holding my hand. I followed in a daze, walking with him up the railroad tracks into the darkness. After a time, I saw the end of a railcar in the shadows. It wasn't exactly a boxcar, although it was as tall as one; at any rate, the end of the car had a lot of open struts and braces. The 'roof' of the litte cage-like open area (actually the floor of the car, I guess) sloped from the top back down at an angle, but other than that you could see through the 'cage' part from all sides. Anyway, I could guess what was on his mind after taking one look at all those struts and angles.

At his urging, I sat down on the metal grate right in the center of the open area, above the coupler. My back was against a cold metal beam, and I shivered.

He started by positioning my hips carefully so that he could pull my knees up and spread my thighs wide apart, opening my pussy fully. When he got my hips where he wanted them, he ran the ropes around behind the column at my back, between my legs, then out to the sides again and back around the column. He tied my knees with ropes extending out away and behind me, pulling the ropes tight to spread me as wide as he could. My ankles were next, pulled tightly out to the sides and tied to more struts. More rope wound around my chest to secure me to the column, and then a few more loops around my breasts picked them up high and pointed them down the tracks. Finally, he bound each wrist and tied them so that my arms were stretched wide up and away from my body. As a finishing touch, he put the bondage harness on my head, strapped it on tightly, and tied the ring on the top of the harness to the pole behind me, keeping my head high. When he finished, I was fully displayed, unable to move a muscle. He put everything back into the knapsack and slung it over his back, then hopped down to the ground. As he ran his eyes over my helpless body, I felt another drop of his cum trickle out of my pussy and ooze down my crack.

He just stood there looking at me for a long moment, then casually lit a cigarette. I worried that someone would see the brief flame or the glowing cigarette end, but all I could do was look around in front of me and to the sides. After he finished his smoke, he looked at his watch and ground the cigarette butt out on the tracks. He hopped up on the end of the railcar, facing me.

"Now, isn't this just a fine piece of pussy," he remarked, stroking my wet lips with a fingertip. "Tied up here nice and open and completely helpless, too," he continued, slipping a finger inside. I thrilled to his touch, and he knew it. He wet two fingers with my juice, then finger-painted my nipples. "Nice tits, too, up here on display - ooh, there go the nipples! Somebody walking along here late at night and finding this might just think this juicy little piece of ass was there for the taking, don't you think?"

I knew he couldn't fuck me because of the way I was tied; not even he is that good a contortionist. Still, the blood pounded in my pussy and I struggled against the ropes. I bit down on the ball gag, wishing he'd at least let me suck him, but he just teased and stroked and caressed me until my whole body was humming like a bowstring. I was breathing heavily, focused on what he was doing to me, hearing nothing but the wet slurping sounds his fingers made when he speared my pussy with strong, warm fingers.

Finally, I realized I was feeling or hearing something else - a kind of sound or vibration so low-pitched it was almost undetectable. When I looked at him and furrowed my brow, he chuckled.

"Finally noticed it, did you?"

I blinked, not following him. He looked at his watch. The rumble grew louder. Finally, I put the pieces together - a train was coming! When my eyes flew wide with fright, he laughed out loud.

"There you go! You know, I'm afraid I won't have time to untie you before it gets here," he whispered, tracing little patterns on my pussy lips with a fingernail. "If I were a really nice guy, I suppose I could try to cover your nakedness with your dress, at least." I nodded frantically as best I could. "It would be terrible to get caught in this position, wouldn't it - not only naked and exposed, but covered in sweat and dripping from a wide-open pussy!"

He paused for a moment, considering, while the rumble of the oncoming train grew louder and more distinct. I knew he was toying with me, but I pleaded with my eyes, shaking with fear. Finally, he shook his head. Hopping off the railcar, he chuckled evilly.

"No, I think not. I think you're going to stay spread out and exposed on display, after all. See you later!" To my horror, he turned his back on me and jogged down the track, disappearing out of sight around the curve, a hundred yards away. I lunged and fought the ropes, but could not move. The vibration of the train made the whole railcar shudder, and I heard a hundred different squeaks and groans behind me.

Since the rail line at that point ran through thick woods, I had no clue as to which way the train was coming from or where it would go. I more or less assumed it wouldn't come straight up the track I was on and hit me, but anything past that was guesswork. I cringed at the thought of a locomotive cab full of engineers staring at my bound body and open pussy in the glare of the headlights - or, worse yet, and entire passenger train full of gawkers pointing and staring.

As it was, I had only a few more seconds of wracking worry before the train seemed to literally explode out of the darkness behind me. There was a quick warning flash of light as the headlight swept the outer edge of the curve off to my right, and then the noise of the speeding locomotive was deafening.

Remember the railroad crossing he tied me to earlier? Well, I didn't.

Just a split second before the front of the locomotive appeared not ten feet away on the track to my right, the engineer blew the horn for the road crossing.

I swear, that horn sounded like the trumpet of Doom. If you've never had one of those things go off close by, you have no idea what a horrific noise they make. I could literally feel my body shake to the blast, even as I was being jiggled and bounced around by the thunder of a freight train passing by at full howl. I screamed, drew breath, screamed again, and writhed in terror as the locomotive roared past, then caught just the briefest split-second glimpse of someone in the cab. Between the first scream and the second, I emptied my bladder in one painful, convulsive gush - my world was rocking and shaking, I was scared out of my mind, and deafened by the uproar.

Once the engine passed, the noise and confusion dropped off a bit. The ground still vibrated heavily under the passing cars, jostling my rail car and shaking me, but at least I could hear myself think. At least it was a freight train, after all - and there was no caboose, of course, just the little blinking red light on the end of the last car that seemed to laugh at me as it shot past.

In a moment, the end of the train flashed past me and hurtled around the bend, out of sight. I could smell the diesel exhaust, mixed with the tang of my own urine sprayed all over the grate under me and the ground below. I drew deep, ragged breaths, feeling the pulse pound in my throat. Over the next few minutes, the fear subsided and I slumped against the ropes binding me tight.

He finally loped back up the track, the grinning bastard, and stood in front of me. He wrinkled his nose and waved his hand theatrically.

"Scared the piss right out of you, didn't it!" he mocked. I gave him a glare, and he took my picture, in all my sweaty glory. I growled past the gag, furrowing my brow. He hopped up on the end of the rail car, giggling, and untied my harness. When he took it off and removed the gag, I licked my dry lips and worked my jaw stiffly.

"You just love doing that to me, don't you," I panted. "Scaring me half to death!"

"Yes, indeed," he admitted, slipping two fingers up inside me. "Because you love it - you love feeling completely out of control, and I love what it does to you." He's right, of course, but I'll never admit it. Even as I was screaming my brains out and pissing myself, my pussy was clenched rock-hard and my nipples were on fire. In the aftermath, I felt myself squeezing his fingers as they curled and probed my cunt.

"Fuck me!" I panted.

He tweaked my nipple, hard, with his other hand. I squeaked in surprise.

"You're not in any position to make demands, now, are you?" he taunted.

I glared at him defiantly. "FUCK ME! Dammit, I want you to fuck me, and I mean RIGHT NOW!" He took both my nipples between his thumbs and forefingers and started to squeeze.

"You'd better rethink that attitude, slut, or you're going to be in for a long, painful night," he rumbled. "I've got more than rope in this bag, you know." When I drew a deep breath for a fresh retort, he pinched both nipples viciously, wringing a gasp from me. Tears sprang from the corners of my eyes.

I looked him in the eye for a long moment, then screamed "FUCK ME!" into his face. He dropped my breasts, then drew back and slapped my breast open-handed with stunning force. When I opened my mouth to scream, he stuffed the ball gag back in, wrestling the straps into place and buckling them tight.

"You're just really in a contrary mood tonight, aren't you?"

My eyes blazed defiance, and he rooted around in the knapsack for a moment, finally drawing out the leather cat-o-nine-tails. He trailed the leather thongs across my breasts and thighs, frowning in thought.

"I was ready to untie you a minute ago, but now I'm wondering if you need a little attitude adjustment first. You certainly can't scream your head off out here - that just won't do. Now, I'm going to ask you one time and one time only - do you want to come along quietly? If you do, just bow your head. Otherwise, I'll just have to MAKE you submit."

I knew what he was saying - he really had planned to take me down, and most likely was bursting at the seams, ready to fuck my brains out. I had thrown him a bit of a curveball, though, and he was feeling his way along. The adrenaline was still racing through my blood, though, and some perverse impulse got the better of me. It's just another way of putting myself out of control, I guess.

I looked him in the eye, sniffed, tipped my head back, and looked away pointedly. He chuckled.

"Well, well, well. I see how it's going to be, then. You're going to hang there in those ropes, every inch of skin exposed, and I'm going to make you bow your pretty little head." He flicked the whip across my inner thigh, lightly. I flinched in spite of myself, and he laughed. When I looked at him angrily, he slashed the whip hard across my breast, leaving trails of fire on my skin. He jumped lightly to the ground, so that he could back up a step. From there, he had to look up slightly to meet my eyes, but my body was splayed neatly before him. I looked up at the clouds.

"I'm going to hurt you, and I'm going to keep hurting you, and you're helpless to do a damn thing about it!" he growled. With that, he drew back and landed a vicious stroke on each inner thigh, one right after another. "Go ahead and scream now, because no one will hear!" More strokes of the whip, falling faster and harder - my legs were on fire, and I was gulping for air, tears streaming down my cheeks. My leg muscles bunched and strained as I tried to close my thighs, but the ropes held me fast, wide open. When a stroke landed right in the tender hollow beside and below my pussy, the pain shattered me like a lightning bolt, and I snapped my head back against the cold metal in agony. I was sure he'd sliced me to the bone. After he worked both my inner thighs over from knee to pussy lips, he paused for a moment.

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