Patricia didn't seem very happy with the arrangements for our scene. "You don't seem very pleased, PV," I asked, "aren't things to your liking ?" "No, they most certainly aren't", she replied. "And I came all this way to set it up for you. Well, after all this trouble, we may as well play it out as we agreed and see how you like it", I said. Patricia got quite indignant, "This is NOT what I agreed to!" "Whatever do you mean, my dear ? I said we would meet in the park, then have dinner, and begin our play the next morning. You seemed satisfied with that". "THAT'S NOT WHAT YOU DID. YOU HAD TWO THUGS KIDNAP ME AND DUMP ME IN THE DESERT !" She did seem a bit agitated, I thought.

"Patricia, we're in a national park, I did meet you here, we just had dinner - you really should eat something - and early tomorrow we start to play". She just glared at me. "Release me NOW, take me back to the city, and never show your face in California again or I'll have you arrested", she sputtered. That was cute. I like resistance, so long as it doesn't succeed. "Patricia, I have letters agreeing to meet for a weekend of bondage play, you let some of your friends know you would be acting out a scene this weekend, and you've gone on record as liking to resist your top. I don't think that you would have a case, even if you did file charges, but you're not going to do that", I explained patiently. Quite impatiently she responded - she really needs to develop some discipline, I got here just in time - "I'M GOING TO SEE YOU PUT IN SAN QUE-ughh".

I'd had quite enough of that, and shoved a nice penis gag in her mouth. We couldn't have her disturbing the quiet of the desert night with her histrionics. If she didn't want to eat the stew I'd made her, that was her problem. After all, it would have been very simple to just bend over and lick it off the plate. I made certain that the knots restraining her wrists and elbows and ankles were still snug, then knotted her hair and tied it to a stake driven into the ground. "Good night, Patricia, we'll start early tomorrow", I said. She responded at length and with feeling, but "mrrrrr" gets a little boring after awhile, so I went to sleep.

I rolled out of my bedroll just before dawn, refreshed and anxious to start playing. Patricia didn't appear to have slept well; the sand under her looked like she'd spent the night tossing and turning. "A little restless, Patricia ? Well, we'll burn off some of that pent up energy". Speaking of energy, I'd better get that toy. There it was. "I'm sure you know what this is, Patricia, but just in case you've never felt one...", I said, before I poked her arms with the cattle prod. Even through her shirt the effect was impressive, as she suddenly stretched out and her whole body shook for a moment - the action of her breast's was great - then just lay there sweating. I knew she wouldn't have any fight in her right that minute, so I untied her and got the camera ready. Patricia was getting herself together, rubbing her wrists and ankles and thigh. "Don't think about doing anything without orders, slave - from now on you're a slave and I'll use you as I wish. Your safeword is "Yes" - as long as you say that word you'll be safe", I told her. I always like the sound of that, even if it's not true. After judging that she was almost back to normal - alright, so in most people's eyes neither one of us had been anywhere near normal in a long time, but she had all her facilities again - I said "On your feet, slave. Now get out of all your clothes or you get the prod on your clit". At first she looked pretty defiant, but that last part got through to her. She stood up and began to strip of her clothes. I got it all on tape.

"Turn around nice and slow, slave. Nice. Open your legs more. Wonderful. Just a little momento of our time together, dear. Of course, should there be any legal proceedings this tape will be played in court lots of times", I told her. "I'm doing this under duress", she said. "Granted", I told her,"but the cattleprod wasn't in the frame while you were stripping, and your proud determination not to let me see that I was hurting you or to give me any kind of show made that a very matter-of-fact performance. It won't look like the action of a terrorized woman. That pride of your's can get you hurt; at least, that's what I'm counting on". I rummaged through one of the duffelbags. "Of course, being proud doesn't mean being stupid. You're going to be naked all day, and it's going to be a scorcher. There's not a cloud in the sky, so you're going to cook without sunblock. I just happen to have some, you want it ?", I asked. "Yes," she said holding out a hand to receive it.

"Uh-Uh, slave. Hands behind you". She caught the meaning of that, and said "I'd rather roast than have your hands on me". I smiled and said, "As you wish. But understand that I'm going do go ahead with my plans regardless of what you do, and you'll probably die if you don't get what protection you can". She thought a bit, then looked down and put her hands behind her. It was so sweet. I cuffed her wrists together and put ankle restraints on her and got the sun block and began rubbing it all over her. Since her buttocks and breasts and crotch got so much less sun than the rest of her, those areas of course required special treatment. As the process began her face was hard and cold, but as the eigth or ninth coat was being applied to her pussy I could see her lips shaking a bit. I made certain that the sunblock got inside her pussy lips - after all, I planned to spread them today - and she didn't try to withdraw from my probing finger.

Reaching around her to apply yet another coat to her buns brought her close up against me and I could feel her trembling. When I gently massaged another layer onto her breasts her composure broke completely and she let out a moan. I pulled her close and let my hands run all over her. She was now excited enough that my touch anywhere was arousing. Still standing very close, I began very softly applying the block to the one dry part of her body, her face, softly brushing her forehead and cheeks and chin, then holding her head gently between my hands I kissed her mouth, first just brushing her lips oh so softly then kissing her slightly harder, but still softly, and keeping up this pattern of miniscule increases in pressure and duration until she pushed forward and kissed me hard and greedily... then I shoved her away and on her hobbled ankles she fell backwards and landed hard on her rear. "YOU FUCKING BASTARD !" she cried. "If there were any fucking involved, I don't think you'd be so mad right now", I replied.

I went back to my duffelbags. "I hope you won't mind, Patricia, but while you were being dragged off the street , I broke into your house and found these", I said as I pulled out a pair of pumps with very high spiked heels. The shoes you were wearing were nice, but a bit too practical for my plans". I pulled her to her feet and removed the handcuffs. "Put these on", I ordered. "I will like hell - AHHH". A tap of the prod to her ribs knocked her down and took her breath away. It had an adjustable charge and I'd turned the power down a litte, since it wouldn't be much fun if she were too sore to move before we even got started, but it hurt plenty. As she sat holding her ribs and shooting lasers at me with her eyes, I tossed the shoes to her. "Hey, I like the way this is going so far. Please keep that stubborn streak for a while longer". She put the shoes on. "Stand up and turn around". She stood up and turned around. This was getting tame, but I was sure she'd pick her time and act when she was ready. I wasn't quite so sure that I would be ready when she did, but that was what was had made this such an exciting fantasy as I conceived it, the fact it was open-ended and anything could happen. I put the heaviest duffelbag on her then handcuffed her wrists behind her, shoved a nice big ball gag in her mouth with considerable difficulty, which meant it was just the right size, and replaced the short chain between her padded ankle cuffs with a 14" chain. "Just so you don't get any ideas about kicking me, slave", I told her as I closed the padlocks. "Let's go for a walk", I said, gesturing with the cattle prod and bringing the tip of it a fraction of an inch from her right nipple as I did, "that way".

I wasn't sure how far we'd gone. It was nearly noon and we'd been walking since six. The pace was comfortable enough for me but Pat had been having problems for the last few hours, and our progress was frequently halted as she lost her footing and fell. Waiting for her to make it back up had become irritating and I'd been helping her up with strokes across the ass from my cane, which had also proven to be a requirement to keep her moving. She grunted a lot and if looks could kill I'd be dead, but looks don't hurt and a hard piece of wood lashing her bare buttocks did, so she kept those high heels going forwards. It was very hot and I had been sweating a lot, so at least her falls gave me a chance to take a swig from the canteen. It wasn't that I needed the water or anything - hell, I could do this all day, really, I could - but taking the canteen off her neck where it was normally carried lightened her load so she could get up. This looked like a likely spot, far from the road and through enough rocky and sandy passages to be pretty certain no dirtbikes or offroad vehicles would showup. It was so remote that a number of tall cacti were there unmolested, and the surrounding miles so desolate that few hikers or campers would ever come there. We wouldn't be interrupted here. "OK, slave, sit and rest", I said. I then proceeded to take all the gear off Patricia. A couple of hours ago I'd figured out where on Patricia I could drape the second duffelbag, along with most of what I'd been carrying, except for the cane, cattleprod, and what fit on my belt, which included the keys to her restaints.

I set up camp, then attended to the slave. Taking off her pumps, I saw that she hadn't suffered any lasting damage, though I don't think so could have gone much further. That suited me, since if she managed to get loose I didn't want her going far. Of course she was thirsty. Probably hungry, too, since she didn't eat any dinner, but it would be a long time before Patricia would be hungry enough for the hunger to subvert her will. Thirst would work a lot sooner. I took a nice long drink while she watched. "Oh, pardon my manners, would you like some ?", I asked. She just glared at me. Well, it would work eventually, though I decided now that I'd have to be careful to see to it that she got some fluids, this woman just might be proud and stubborn enough to end up dehydrated if she would have to earn her water from me, which had been my intention. Now that I knew what a tough customer she was, my plans would have to be a bit more fluid, so to speak.

After I'd set up the tent, which I would need for shelter from the sun, there were six stakes left over, so I staked Patricia out spreadeagle. The two extra stakes were placed near her head. I removed the ball gag, which had done it's job well, and Patricia couldn't get her jaw working immediately, which gave me time to insert two loops inside her mouth and fasten them to the stakes on either side of her head before she started telling me off. I sort of liked it when she did tell me off, but I wanted her to stay frustrated. Now she couldn't move her head, and though she could make lots of noise - something she wasted no time in proving - she wasn't getting out much that was intelligible. I proceeded to thoroughly explore my prize. I ran my fingers along the inside of her thighs. There was just enough slack for me to see her legs jerk at my touch. I skipped over her groin and began making little patterns on her stomach and pinching her sides. I hopefully tickled her belly and sides, without result. "What a pity you're not ticklish, PV".

I cupped her breasts and began to rub them softly. She pretended to ignore me, but she was breathing hard. "Your nipples are so nice and hard, slave", I said. I fingered them softly, then harder. "I love they way they stand up", I said. I squeezed each nipple hard between my thumb and forefinger and pulled upwards until her breasts had stretched as far as they would stretch and Patricia's shoulders began to lift from the ground, but both of us were sweating and she was screaming and squirmimg and she slipped out of my grasp. I repeated the process a couple times with the same results. Her nipples were still hard and erect. "I REALLY love the way your nipples stand up", I told her as I reached for my bag. "Do you know the Japanese proverb about the nail that stands up ? By the way, do you like Japanese bondage ? Some wonderfully cruel and imaginative ropework and suspensions in that stuff. Anyway, we won't hammer those pretty nips", I assured her, as I pulled out the needle-nose pliers. "AGGHHGGH-NNNN-MMMM", she said when she saw them. I got a good grip on her left nipple and twisted it hard. "AAA-YYYYEEE-OOO", she said, her voice an octave or two higher than before. I twisted it again. "EEEEEEEEEEEEEEEEYY !".

Her face was getting red and I saw the beginning of a tear and I just had to have it. I put the plier on her right nipple and gave it a hard 360 degree turn. "EEEEEEEEEEEEOOOWWWWWYYYEEE- -UGH-ARG-EHH-OOOH", exploded from her as her head jerked up and her whole body contracted, all four limbs pulling hard against their bonds while those precious tears began to trickle out. I reversed the pliers, adjusted my grip, and turned it 360, maybe 450 degrees around the other way. She was screaming and bucking, her ass pounding the hard ground as she pulled at all the ropes. Her fists were opening and closing as her wrists turned in the ropes and she tried yanking them side to side when pulling them straight in proved to no effect, but the stakes holding her wrists didn't budge and the tears of pain and frustration were pouring down her flushed face. I was enthralled by the show of her red, wet face and heaving chest, and the arms flailing within their narrow range of movement, so much so that I was shocked when her heel hammered into the side of my knee. "OW! SONOFABITCH!", I shouted as I rolled away and staggered to my feet, limping about to walk off the pain. I hoped I could walk it off; if she'd broken something in my knee the chance of walking out of this place was pretty thin.

I saw that she'd pulled the stake holding her right leg out of the ground and was trying to free the other leg. Even if she got those strong legs free it'd be hard for her to get up, since with her head staked down she wouldn't be able to turn over so she could use them to pull the arm stakes up, but I wouldn't be able to have much fun with her then. I dove onto her right leg; it was twisting and thrusting wildly like a loose high pressure hose, she got it under me and thrust her knee into my crotch and I rolled free and crawled away gasping for breath. I couldn't take much time to recover, though, so I crawled over and got the cattleprod and, still crawling, pushed it into the spot between and just below her breasts. She gasped loudly and convulsed, but kept struggling, though much less energeticly. I zapped her right thigh three times and the leg's movement was reduced to twitching.

I made it to my feet, though I couldn't straighten up yet, and went for the hammer. I came back as quickly as I could in my bent over condition. I'd thought of a lot of movies when I considered the things I was going to do to Patricia, including "The Hunchback of Notre Dame" - love the boot, been trying to build or buy one, so far without success - but I'd never cast myself this way. This "anything can happen" wasn't quite the thrill it had seemed. I hammered the left stake, which was nearly free, deep into the ground, then got the right, yanked it till the leg was good and taut, and hammered it down. I tapped down the other stakes as a precaution, and withdrew to the tent to lick my wounds - figuratively, please, I'm not flexible enough to do so for real and, anyway, that's one of the few kinks I don't have.

When it seemed everything had recovered but my pride, I came back. Patricia was tugging on the ropes, but without her previous energy or success. "You know, slave, when I was a child I had trouble remembering which one was Quasimodo and which one was Torquemada. You may have thought you knew which one I was, but you were wrong", I sputtered at her. She was looking at me like I was mad, and for the first time I had the pleasure of seeing fear in her eyes. Fear in a helpless woman's eyes always got me hard.

Unfortunately, I wasn't as fully recovered as I had thought, and the experience was not quite as pleasant as usual. Something else to make her to pay for. I took the horsewhip and went to lay into her, then stopped long enough to free her head; I wanted to hear this. I started on her legs, moving around her so I could hit the inside as well as the top of her thighs, the tip of the whip sometime coming very close to but never touching her labia, then moved up and covered her belly and sides with stripes. I skipped over her breasts to work on her shoulders and to crack the whip into her armpits. Throughout this she was screaming and writhing and struggling with renewed vigor. She found many things to say to me, but to her credit "I'm sorry" wasn't one of them. The closest she had come to a plea was when she started shouting "Yes ! Yes !". At first I thought she was getting off on the whipping, but then I realized she had thought to try our "safeword". " 'Yes', eh slave ? Yes, you can have some more", I told her, and she went back to questioning my parentage and family relationships.

Now I brought the whip down on her breasts, and her screams rose in volume and pitch. As the leather cracked across her soft skin she began mingling offers in with her invective, and as the network of stripes grew on her chest the number and variety of open offers became quite impressive. But I still hadn't heard from this proud lady the things I wanted to hear, and as hot as her screams of agony and offers of ecstasy where making me, she was going to say them before the torture stopped. I considered telling her what she could say - it seemed as if her pleas of "I'll do anything you want" and "What is it you want ? Tell me what you want ?" were soliciting such input - but decided that would spoil the purity of the moment.

"I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE - AHHHHH - I'LL BE SUCH A GOOD SLAVE - OWWWWW - I'LL BE YOUR SLAVE FOREVER - EEEEYY - AAAH - OWWWOOHH - EGH-GGH - I'LL DO ANYTHING YOU WANT, MASTER, OH PLEASE TELL ME WHAT I CAN DO - OHHHRRRRGGH - OH PLEASE MERCY PLEASE - EEYOOOW - YOU'RE KILLING ME, I CAN'T STAND IT PLEASE HAVE MERCY - AAAAAA - FUCK SUCK TOILET WHATEVER, TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT OF ME, PLEASE - OWWWW - PLEASE - PLEASE - I KNOW YOU DON'T WANT ME DEAD, I'M NO USE TO YOU DEAD - EEECHHH - YOU'RE KILLING ME - OH GOD - OOOWWWW - GODDAMMIT WHAT DO YOU WANT YOU BASTARD JUST TELL ME WHAT YOU WANT - YES YES YES - SHIT! - AAAHH - PLEASE MASTER I'M SORRY PLEASE I'M SO SORRY".

At that I knelt beside the sobbing woman. Her face was bright red beneath the tears and in places mucus that covered her face, much of her body was flushed and most of it crisscrossed with flaming welts, she was bathed in sweat all over, and that part of her dripping hair that wasn't plastered to her head was covered with the sand and dirt that had stuck to it as she flailed her head about in the dirt. She was quite beautiful. I lifted her head up and looked through the veil of tears into her eyes and saw, for now at least, no defiance. "You see, Patricia, dear slave, you should have remembered your manners", I told her, "you just had to say you were sorry". When I gently lowered her head she was unconscious.

It would be many hours before she awoke. I had cleaned her up as much as conditions permitted and carried her into the tent. Under normal conditions I wouldn't have taken the risk of fastening that woman's wrists in front of her, but since her back was less damaged that her front or sides, suffering only from some scrapes that resulted from her twisting and writhing, she could rest better on her back, if her hands were in front. The nylon handcuffs that I'd placed on her were not themselves a weapon the way the steel one's would have been. Her ankles were chained together and I didn't think even she was much of a threat to hop up from behind and brain me. I had no illusions that her willfulness and defiance had ceased permanently. I wasn't even certain that she wouldn't be ready to bite my head off when she woke up. But it had been a sweet moment when her resistance stopped, a moment to be remembered and enough in itself to make the whole scene a success. This was of course conditional upon Patricia not killing me before we got out of here. I was thinking that even if she did it would almost have been worth it - then realized what pure bullshit that was. Shit, I thought, I've been out in the sun too long while my slave sleeps in the tent. This was not a part of the plan. Well, however she's feeling when she gets up, I thought, and whatever happens before we get out of here, I have some more plans for her and she's not going to escape them. I set about preparing for the execution of those plans whenever she awoke. She would need her strength.

She awoke to find me watching her. The preparations had been completed and now I just needed my captive ready to experience them. She said nothing as she rose to a sitting position. She raised her hands to softly touch her breast and winced and gasped at the pain. She looked at me now, quite calmly, and there was no fear or submission in eyes but neither was there the burning defiance that had been there before. "Well", she rasped, her throat quite sore, "what do you intend to do with me now ?". "The first thing is to get some water into you", I said. She raised her hands to accept the canteen from me. "I think not", I said as I went behind her. "Raise your head and open your mouth", I commanded, and when she did so I began to pore a little into her mouth as I stroke her throat and then dripped some onto her lips, then dripped a little water onto her hot cheeks and forehead, behind her ears and onto her closed eyes and gently spread the fluid around, with a small amount into her mouth between each other stop. Then I poured a liberal amount into her hair and into a towel I draped as gently as I could across the back of her neck, and finally wet a cloth and ran it over the veins in her forearms and opposite her elbows. "I had thought to put it in a dog bowl and let you lap it up when you got thirsty enough, but I'm glad that wasn't necessary. I suppose you're hungry ?", I asked. "Ravenous". I'd brought some fruit, which I allowed her to take in her hands to eat.

"So, slave, are you ready to play some more ?", I inquired. "None of this has seemed much like play so far", she answered. "Perhaps not. Are you ready to proceed ?". "No". "Good. Unfortunately for you, it will happen anyway", I told her. She sort of smiled, and said, "So my consent isn't required. What a surprise". I slipped a pair of leather mittens over her hands and secured them, locked a handcuff around one wrist, then cut the nylon cord and quickly seized her wrists and pulled them behind her. Surprisingly, she didn't offer any resistance, which partly thrilled and partly disappointed me. I blindfolded her before unchaining her feet and applying some shackles. I wasn't about to be taken in by her current passivity, which was not submission but only a lack of resistance. If she was waiting for a chance to act, she wasn't going to get one. I pulled her to her feet, then placed her her high heels by them and told her to slip them on; she offered some marginal resistance to my guiding her feet into the shoes, but put no real effort into it. I put a leash around her neck and led her out of the tent. When I got her to the apparatus, I ran a chain from each side of the apparatus to an ankle before I removed the shackles, then drew each ankle apart until she was standing with her legs spread and fastened by short chains while her hands were locked behind her back. The leash I fastened to a pole extended above her head; it hung loosely but would prevent her from sitting or laying down.

Since this formidable female was now completely helpless, I could have safely removed the blindfold, but I thought better of it. We had lots of time, she was completely helpless and could not possibly get free, so I could afford to wait and let her think about what I was going to do to her. She was probably imagining techniques so cruel that even I wouldn't employ them. I certainly hoped she was, perhaps I could get her to tell me what those techniques might be; one should always have something to aspire to. I didn't say anything, I just watched her stand there, helpless. As time creeped by, her squirming and testing of the restraints indicated the tension was getting to her. Finally, she said, "So do you have something for me ?". "In due time, slave", I replied. She fidgetted a little more. "You're trying to get it up, right ?", she asked, "Jesus, we'll be here all summer waiting for that miracle". I walked over and stood behind her. "Really, slave, I'm hurt. You have so little respect for me that you think I can be provoked into premature action", I said. Now speaking softly into her ear, I told her, "You can't move me, Patricia, not with lust, and not with anger. Your marvelous intelligence, your wonderful command of language, your charms and sensual skills, none of these will help you, they can no more affect me than your impressive physical strength affects these chains. You are completely helpless, there is nothing that you can do or say that will alter your fate in the slightest. I will determine what happens to you, how it happens, when it happens.

You have no say in this, and absolutely no control. It's your body, it's your life, but it's my decision". I put my hands on her shoulders; they were knotted with tension. "Are you really in such a hurry to be hurt again ?", I asked, as I began caressing her bare back. "You've no place to go and nothing to do but to experience what I want you to feel", I told her, my hands now gently fondling her buttocks. I reached below them and began to stroke her between the legs; she trembled a bit and shifted her feet but wasn't trying to evade the touch. "Not so hard to find moisture in the desert, is it, Patricia ?", I asked. She didn't answer. Her head was moving slightly and her lips were parted but she not giving any willing responses.

I kept one hand working her vagina while I put the other under her head and turned it to me. I started kissing her neck and face; my hand on her throat felt the moan before it escaped from her lips. I kissed her mouth, softly and quickly, then went back to the circuit of her face and neck, stopping occasionally at the mouth. As she was not trying to pull away, I released my grip on her neck; she didn't move and I continued to kiss her face and neck and mouth. I moved my free hand to her breast and very, very gently stroked her nipple. She gasped a little but didn't move. I kissed her on the mouth, holding the kiss. She neither resisted nor responded. I kissed her mouth again, while the hand in her pussy sent a finger probing inside her vagina. She moved her mouth away but I followed and locked my lips to hers and she began to return my kiss. As we kissed I again gently stroked her nipple and I felt her react, not entirely in pain. She was quite moist now and her hips were moving to increase the friction between my fingers and her vagina. She was kissing fervently now and when I broke from her mouth to kiss her neck and face her moans were now free and unselfconscious and I felt the heat in her neck and throat, a heat not deriving from the setting desert sun. I removed the blindfold so she could see the sunset, though as she pressed against me, rubbing her back into my chest and her head against mine as we continued to kiss each other, her eyes were open only briefly. As darkness settled around us she was thoroughly aroused. She rubbed her buttocks against my crotch and said, archly, "It seems we have our miracle". "Would you like me inside you ?", I asked.

"YES", she said, in a cry that was partly shouting and partly laughing. "Yes, yes, please HURRY !", she demanded. "Slave, if you get what you want this weekend, THAT will be the miracle", I said as I stepped away >from her. "OHH, YOU BASTARD, YOU MONSTER", she shouted as her body shook and she stamped her feet. "HOW DARE YOU TREAT ME THIS WAY ! HOW COULD YOU DO THIS YOU SEXLESS IMPOTENT CREEP - I HATE YOU - I'LL KILL YOU", she screamed. She went on at some length, screaming at me as she writhed and stamped. She was trying desperately to close her legs, but the chains wouldn't give; I was hoping she wouldn't break anything as she pulled at the chains. She was straining her arms to get down there, but even if she could have reached that far the thick leather mittens would have prevented her from getting a finger where it could do any good.

I set the fire blazing so I could better watch the show she was putting on as she writhed and shimmied and gyrated within the narrow range her bonds allowed. It was quite a show, the firelight on her hair and gleaming body very lovely, her face a primeval mixture of lust and rage that looked wonderfully savage in this light. This went on for a long time before most of her energy was spent and she stood there twitching, eyes downcast. I'm sure she wanted very badly to cry but refused to give me the satisfaction. "What a performance, Patricia !", I said, "if I'd realized how incredible you would be I'd have arranged better lighting so I could tape it. But I doubt I'll ever forget it. How about you ?". She raised her eyes and glared at me, and growled, "I am going to remember what you've done to me for the rest of my life, and I will NEVER stop hating you". "How wonderful ! I promised you a memorable weekend. But, slave", I reminded her, "the night is young, and I'm not through with you yet".

I put a bag over her head ( and over her protests, which continued pouring out from under the hood ) while I made an addition to the apparatus. When I was done, I removed it so she could see the thick wood pole below her. "So what's that, some kind of totem that you to pray to for the ability to satisfy a woman ?", she spat at me. "You know what it's for, Patricia. You wanted something in that hot pussy of yours; you still do, badly. You're wet and ready, if you want satisfaction, go for it", I told her.

"YOU GO TO HELL", she said. "If my Salesian teachers were correct in theology class, then I most certainly shall", I answered her, "but it's not my going to Hell that's at issue here, it's whether your anger and pride will stop you from seeking heaven. It's right there, just inches away, why should your anger at me stop you ? Yes, I've used you cruelly for my own pleasure today - by the way, I've enjoyed it immensely - and I'm going to continue to use you, but why should that stop you from taking the pleasure that's available to you ? Will you really do that to yourself just to spite me ? Yes, I see you would. I'm so glad, I was counting on this,", I said as I saw her start up and glare at me even more fiercely, "so you see even this display of independence on your part fits perfectly into my plans. Everything you do serves my interests, regardless of what you want. What perfection to have a slave do everything you want them to even while they think they are resisting. I didn't want you to willingly impale yourself on that shaft, not when it would be so much more fun to watch you rape yourself", I advised, as I withdrew the whip from it's hook. "You know what to do," I commanded. "FUCK YOU!", she screamed, and I couldn't help laughing, "Slave, even your dialogue is perfect ! No, no, my lady, you're not going to fuck me, you're going to fuck YOU ! NOW, DO IT !".

She didn't move and I made the whip crack right in front of her eyes. She didn't react; I hadn't thought a tough customer like her would, but knew from unpleasant experience how terrifying that image of a leather tongue coming to rip out one's eye is, no matter how well she masked the fear. Since I didn't want her passing out I concentrated on her largely unmarked back and the soft skin in the back of her thighs and secondarily on her buttocks, which had been caned but weren't too badly inflamed. As the first strokes cracked across her back, her pride and anger kept her from reacting, but much of her strength had been depleted this day and she was soon jerking as the whip struck, and then jerking in anticipation as she heard it.

The terrible image of the whip coming towards her face kept her from looking back and I could play with her anticipation by letting the whip whiz past her or crack inches away from her, making her jerk and twist without touching her. She couldn't move much, but she could move her shoulders enough in her futile attempts to avoid the whip to make her buttocks jiggle nicely and to make those sore, aching breasts bounce in a way that was wonderful for me to watch and excruciating for her to feel. It didn't take nearly as much time for her screams to start as it had earlier, but the uselessness of bargaining was obvious to her and she included no pleas or offers in her cries, confining herself to soaring screeches of inarticulate agony punctuated by screeds in which she detailed my failings as a person and my dubious prospects for the future. "Even if that's so, slave", I replied after one of her more dire predictions, "that fact is, today I wield the whip and enjoy absolute power over you; you will do everything I want you to and we will both remember it as long as we live, and nothing that happens in the future will change this moment". I awaited her reply, but as she had returned to screech mode it wasn't very elucidating.

At last, as was inevitable, Patricia's will broke. "ALL RIGHT, I'LL DO WHAT YOU WANT, STOP WHIPPING ME", she cried through her abundant tears. "This isn't about words, slave", I said, cracking the tip of the whip against the soft skin of her right thigh. She moved her legs a little further apart and began to bend her knees to meet the shaft. I redirected the whip away >from her legs to keep from knocking them out from under her, which had happened a few times during the unexpectedly prolonged flogging ( though I wouldn't admit it to Patricia, I'd never imagined that she could resist as long as she did, or remain conscious through such protracted agony ). She had the shaft's tip on her lips and was grinding her hips to work it into her. While Patricia was quite moist, the thick wood shaft was unlubricated, though the smooth finish ( we couldn't risk any splinters in her vagina, could we ? After all, I might want to use it later ) would slide nicely. Her efforts to get the shaft inside her were impeded by her reflex to rise up when the whip hit her buttocks, so I hit her buttocks repeatedly. Eventually she stopped screaming her protests and repressed the reflex, and got it inside her. She lowered her legs to take in more of the shaft, but it was too thick for her to slide onto easily and she had to keep jerking her hips back and forth to, keeping the thrusting leg higher than the passive leg, in order to force it further within herself. When the leash began to tighten about her throat she stopped lowering herself, but I knew there was a little more room and slashed at her shoulders, telling her "All the way, slave, you're not low enough yet, lower yourself all the way down".

Finally she had it in as far as it would go. The leash was pretty tight but she could still breath; her face had been bright red before the leash began tightening. Much of her body was red now, between the exertion and the welts, and all of it was sweaty despite her being naked in the chill of the desert night. The firelight flickering on her glistening form was lovely. The sweat pouring down her face had forced her to close her eyes but close examination confirmed that tears were still forcing their way out from under her eyelashes to mingle with her sweat. It was hard to determine how much of the pain twisting her face came >from the shaft's penetration of her most private parts, how much from her exertions, and how much had come from the whipping; I doubt she could have separated it. "You've done well, slave, but this was part one. Now that you've stretched yourself around it and lubricated it, the fun part starts. Now you fuck it; c'mon slave, up and down", I ordered, and gave her a stroke on the breasts to emphasize the point. She groaned but began to raise herself up, then to lower herself after rising only a few inches.

The whip kissed her belly, and I said "You can do better than that", and she pulled herself up about six inches above the point of her lowest descent and then started lowering herself again. She'd done so well that I decided to go easy on her and accept that. It was pretty slow going as she slid up and down the shaft the first few circuits, but as she stretched herself further, a process accompanied by a lot of screaming, and, at the end of each lap by her tearful inquiry, "Can I stop now ?", it became easier. Soon, encourage by strokes to her shoulders or buttocks, depending upon which way she was to go, she was humping it good, her T&A bouncing nicely. Her hair was too wet, and stuck to her head instead of bouncing, but you can't have everthing. After a few more rounds she ceased asking if she could stop, I thought because she had taken to heart my repeated answer, "You'll stop when I tell you to stop".

She kept going and I found I'd no need to use the whip to urge her on, which would not have stopped me from continuing to flog her had not my elbow become a little sore. Since she'd been grunting and moaning with her face and chest flushed and her face contorted for some time, it was hard to tell if there was anything else effecting her performance, but it soon became clear that her pent up lust was going to find release no matter how it had to do so. Her widespread legs were going like mad sliding her up and down on the wood and the tone of her vocalizations changed from pain to passion and she started jerking her head back and screaming "YES - YES - YES" but this time neither of us was under any illusions that it might be a safeword. Soon a series of convulsions surged through her, one after another, and when she was done shaking, her legs collapsed under her and her head slumped forwards and she hung limp, impaled on the apparatus.

I rushed forwards to check on her. She was out, but she was breathing, and once the leash was off her breathing was regular. Her heart was pounding but it was rapidly coming back to normal. I considered whether she could be revived - I'd planned to unchain her feet and make her rotate herself around the shaft a few times, but I'd so enjoyed the look of her humping that I deferred the change in direction - but it didn't appear likely. "Well, slave," I told her inert form, "it looks like you managed to thwart my plans after all. I hope you're happy". Sure seemed that way at the end.

I unchained her and took her off the apparatus, and carried her to the tent. There wasn't any way to place her that she wasn't laying on her welts, as she was completely covered with crisscrossing stripes from her knees to her neck, but in her current state it wouldn't matter. I layed her on her back and cleaned her face and neck and when she cooled a little covered her with a blanket and spent much of the night dripping water with a some dissolved sugar and salt into her mouth and stroking her throat so she'd swallow. When I thought she'd been rehydrated sufficiently, I rolled her onto her stomach and made certain her mouth was clear and in the open, then went back to the fire to heat my dinner. It appeared Patricia wouldn't be eating again tonight. I ate my meal and enjoyed the cool desert night and warm fire while I replayed the whole glorious day in my mind. Then I checked on Patricia. She was still completely out, but I wasn't comfortable sleeping next to her without restraints - it didn't look like she would be waking up tonight but I couldn't chance her waking up before I did - so I selected some soft padded leather cuffs and locked her wrists behind her.

She was still asleep when I awoke. It seemed unlikely that she would be able to walk back to the base camp, even without carrying the gear, so after breakfast for me and some more rehydration for her, I assembled a lightweight cage, tied Patricia up good and tight and put her in the cage, and lashed the cage up on a platform in the nearest shady spot. She wouldn't be able to get out and no buzzards or coyotes would be able to get at her; if my information was correct there were no larger predators in this area. I moved what gear I couldn't carry out of sight; when she woke up she'd probably think she'd been left to die, an idea that I found pretty sexy. Maybe she'd be sufficiently grateful when I came back for her to forget how she'd gotten there. Not likely, but possible.

It took me a long time to get back to the jeep and drive it reasonably close to the new camp. I put the gear in the jeep then came back and managed to observe Patricia secretly for a while before I appeared, enough time to know that despite the studiously calm demeanor she adopted for my benefit, she'd been terrified. I gave her food ( at this point I wasn't so intrigued by having her lick the stew off the plate, so I spoon fed her ) and water, then started carrying her out. I left the cage and platform there; some people out on survival training found it a couple years later, and the Park Service dug up most of the desert looking for the victims of satanic sacrifice. It was pretty rough carrying Patricia, though as she repeatedly told me, it would have been a lot harder in high heels; I gagged her after the third or fourth time repetition. I got her in the jeep and drove to an isolated spot about one hundred yards from where I'd paid my local confederates to leave her car, clothes, and handbag, along with some food and water and a first aid kit. I sat her on the ground near a large rock into which two "O" rings had been driven and chains hung from the rings.

I poured some antiseptic over her chest just above her breasts, then extracted my piercing tools. Her eyes widened at that and she started shaking her head furiously, but she was bound and gagged quite securely and I inserted the rings in spots between her collar bones and her breasts without too much difficulty, then poured the antiseptic over the piercings; it hurt a lot more now. I removed all her restraints except a pair of handcuffs, leaving the gag in place. I took the keys to the handcuff and tossed them on the ground a few yards away from her. "Well, PV", I said, "it's been great meeting you, not exactly what I'd planned but better than I'd dared hope. Now I have to free you while making my own escape.

All you have to do is rip those rings out, take the keys and free your wrists, then walk a hundred yards to your car. That won't be easy, and I'm counting on the fact it will take you awhile to work up the courage to do it to give me time to get away. I'd been planning to relocate for some time, so you'll have a devil of a time finding me for prosecution or revenge". I turned to leave, "Oh, PV, you should know that in your current condition it's very unlikely anyone will find you here before you die of thirst, so if you can't pull free you're doomed". She stared at me for a moment, then made a game effort, collapsing white-faced and crying. "Yes, the rings are under some muscles in your chest, very hard to tear.

The Sioux used to shove sticks under them and hang until their body weight tore them loose as part of their religious ceremonies. I thought about suspending you by the rings, but I liked this idea better because it requires you to take an action that's going to be unbelievably painful, but you must do it if you want to live. I'm sure you're brave enough to do it; I'm also sure you won't be able to do it any time soon. Goodbye, and good luck", I said and walked away. I could hear her angrily grunting after me, but I had decided it would more effective if I didn't look back. She probably didn't believe that I wasn't coming back; that would keep her from trying anytime soon. It'd be some time tomorrow at the earliest before she could reach a phone, and I'd be long gone.

I never heard what happened. I suppose she freed herself; by now someone would have passed the spot, and the discovery of her handcuffed skeleton chained to a rock would have made the news even in the places I've resided since then. I'm sure it would have; all the other ones did.

The End