Click on image to enlarge.
Category: Erotica/BDSM Erotica
Description: Naked, savagely beaten, a virginal anus repeatedly abused, culminating in a plastic bag placed over her head, sealed off with duck tape and chained to a wall, Karen discovers in what she thinks is the last desperate struggle for her young life, how quickly an innocent and daring exposure in the woods can escalate out of control. Blackmailed, she finds herself propelled down an irreversible tide of events, but who is pulling the strings? Karen is asking the wrong question. The question should be, who is orchestrating the string-pullers, but more importantly -- Why?
eBook Publisher: Fiction4All/FetishWorld, 2011
eBookwise Release Date: May 2011
2 Reader Ratings:
Available eBook Formats: OEBFF Format (IMP) [180 KB]
Reading time: 110-154 min.
There are times when we do something really stupid, something shameful, something regrettable, but it's done and cannot be undone. There are times, when in the heat of the moment, we can get so carried away, so propelled to give-in to a deeply driven force that we throw all caution to the wind and submit to that urge, the one that says, 'go on -- do it!'
"But I can't!" We argue, knowing that whilst the act in itself would be wonderful, even breathtaking, being caught, found out, would be the most devastating, most cruel thing imaginable.
"Yes you can!" The inner voice repeats, unrepentant, growing stronger, more determined, fuelling the urge to obey, to comply with this outrageous thought.
"Someone will see me!"
"There is no one around - do it!"
"You know you want to!"
And then it happens. Resolve, composure, restraint and dignity, dissolve, floating on a summer breeze that playfully whisks through heavily laden branches, like a privately given sonata. It plays just for you as senses heighten. Time slows down. The heart beats faster. Blood surges through veins. There is only you. There is no one else. No one would know. No one will see. What possible harm could come of it?
That purposeful stride becomes hesitant. You turn sharply, in an attempt to catch the follower by surprise. There is no one there, only the path you just travelled, as it meanders through the woods on this incredibly beautiful summer's day. It's so warm today. Everything looks brighter, sharper, so many colours!
Halting in your tracks, ears strain, desperate to confirm, pleading inside that you can hear nothing, no one. A half step forward, finds a walking boot, suddenly feeling heavy, hesitant, wavering in mid air. Uncertainty is consuming, frightening, exhilarating. Yes, it is so exciting.
"What was that?"
The crack of wood suddenly drains your body. Your heart races. Already you are guilty. You feel the increase in blood pressure in your cheeks, becoming rosy-red. You turn again, searching, scanning through the trees. No one is there.
"I told you!" The voice teases.
Picking up the pace again, you realise that this is the cover, that this is the pretence. If they catch you, you are only walking, as your right hand shuffles at the strap to your small backpack and your left hand rubs deeply at that untouchable place between your legs. It's exhilarating to feel your swollen labia pressed tightly against the heavy, unyielding thickness of your cut-short denim jeans' and the way it moves in synchronicity with every step. You pull at your tee shirt, releasing it from the tight confines of your figure hugging shorts, cut just right to show a hint of fleshy buttocks beneath the fray, you spent hours getting just right.
Beneath the tee shirt, your skin feels hot.
Why wouldn't it? You've been walking in the midday sun for more than an hour. The sweaty dampness feels good and today, you are grateful that your breasts are small enough to not need a bra. Instant access to electrified nipples feel so much better than a fire-stoked stomach -- doesn't it? But, you know it's not enough to satisfy the tempting voice. You know you are going to go further.
Almost feebly, thrilled and shocked at your behaviour, all too easily the controlling safety of a button slides undone. You feel unrestricted, the material loose against your hips. This is so daring.
"Shit! What am I doing?"
You look back. While you were not paying attention, your zip opened to its maximum. You feel a slight chill. Goose bumps cover you from head to foot as a rush of wind washes across newly exposed flesh several inches below your belly button. As you walk, you feel alive, adrenaline courses through your body and you feel overtaken with a new thought. Confidence grows.
"Wouldn't it be nice to feel that breeze against your naked backside and your naked breasts?"
For a moment, but only for a moment you pull your tee shirt up, displaying to the trees tit's that tingle, nipples alive to the torture of a dancing, caressing wind. You close your eyes. You are free!
You hear it again! That cracking noise makes you quickly cover yourself and pull up the zip in case your shorts fall.
"Wouldn't that feel good! Wouldn't that just feel amazing if they did fall! Just think what it would feel like if you took them off altogether!"
Glancing from one tree to another, you smile in relief. No one is there. No one is watching. You keep walking, but stubbornly you don't tuck your shirt into your shorts and you don't do up that button. Nothing is going to do up that button.
Walking faster, you haul your backpack over a bit and feed your other arm through the strap. Now you have two free hands.
"Show your bum!"
"No!" You argue. "It's too risky!"
"Just a little then! You want to! You know you do!"
With a dry mouth, you pull down the zipper and feeling your smooth, taught belly, you slide fingers from two hands inside the shorts and under the dainty chord that passes for an excuse for underwear.
"I love my G-strings!"
Your breath catches as two forefingers touch, just slightly at first, swollen lips, so sensitive, and push down further. Your hot thighs, that bit on the inside, not an inch from your pussy, feels so smooth, highlighted by legs that march at a pace. Having created space between you and those shorts, they feel more comfortable, definitely not needed. Two thumbs hook into the waist and with each stride, they inch downward, each step revealing just a little bit more flesh, until unbelievably, you are able to rub your naked backside with the palm of your hands and not feel any denim anywhere.
"Oh Karen, you are so bad!"
But, even this is not enough. You want more. The voice keeps telling you to do more, to go further. The voice in your head hungers for satisfaction. Terrified, you know what it wants.
"The human body needs to be naked!" The voice tells you. "It's natural! Your soul craves it! Give in to it! Just give in!"
With your thin, white tee shirt tucked up over your breasts again, you try to feed your soul, you try to give in and give it what it wants. Irritatingly tight shorts inch down further, until you gasp. Subconsciously, you have taken your g-string with the shorts and now the gusset has sprung free. Did you mean to do that?
The wind is playing with you, darting between an openly displayed and increasingly wet vagina. You are naked from the shoulder blades down to your thighs as you walk through the woods, caressed and kissed by nature.
"Now doesn't that feel good?"
To your left, between a gap in the trees, you spot an opening. Lush green grass catches your attention. It's just a small patch, but definitely big enough and illuminated by bright, unhindered sunlight, it calls to you. You can't resist. You say to yourself that it's fun to investigate things, but deep down you know why you are going. Deep down you know what you will do when you get there.
Deliberately not covering yourself, because it's so much more daring that way, you zigzag between trees, young and old, revelling at the touch of tickling leaves on parts of your body that should and normally are covered. This spot, this little piece of earth is simply breathtaking. You feel the sunlight from directly above tingle and warm your displayed skin. This is so perfect.
You drop your bag and bending your knees you quickly sit. It's good that you can't see the path from here. Looking around, you feel comfortable, relaxed. You feel at home, stretching back and resting your head on the bag. Above, there is only the bluest sky, with the faintest vapour trail from a plane that must have passed at least an hour ago. In the distance, a busy woodpecker echoes his handy work. It is so peaceful here. Bare flesh warms in the direct sunlight. You have never done this before. It feels so wicked, so out of the ordinary that eyes close in surrender. You know what you will do soon, but you delay, with a thumping heart, just that little longer, revelling in your fear.
Taking a bottle of water from your sack, you sip it slowly. Are you really going to do this? You gulp hard and in one easy movement, your tee shirt is lying on your backpack, placed there deliberately to make your head more comfortable. Now you feel a new rush of excitement. You are almost fully naked. The stakes have been raised. The risk of capture has reached new, dizzying heights.
Tilting your head back, you close your eyes and allow water from your bottle to wash over your face. It feels amazing as it trickles over breasts, your tummy and some of it tickles between your legs.
You really want to be naked -- fully naked. You consider it, but you might need a quick getaway. What if someone comes? It's best to keep your boots on, so you push your shorts to your ankles. Annoyingly, this keeps your feet together, but the restriction is good. Isn't it? Isn't it a little like having your feet tied together? If ever asked, you will be shocked at the question, you will flatly deny it, but deep down you want them tied, bound together so you cannot escape.
"You want to be taken!"
"You want to be fucked, forcefully, aggressively, without consideration to how you feel! You want to feel degradation, you want your body savagely and repeatedly fucked by a wild beast of a man! -- Don't you!"
"Yes! It's true!"
With head resting on the backpack again, you pull your feet up close, bending your knees and allowing them to fall away from each other. It feels good, doesn't it, lying on the grass with your legs as wide open as you can possible make them?
It's time and you know it!
That feeling of sickness in your stomach is just butterflies. You know that, but despite knowing, you can't shake off the feeling that someone is watching you. Do you want someone to watch? Do you want someone to watch you finger fuck your pussy?
The first touch feels so wicked. It makes your eyes close. It makes you gasp in a whisper. It makes your mind race to a hundred different memories and fantasies. To your first kiss, he made your heart flutter, didn't he? Your first erection inside your mouth. Admit it! You love sucking cock. Your first lesbian kiss. It was only once, but you never forgot her and she is always central to your fantasies and that fuck under an upturned rowing boat on a sandy beach, whilst on holiday in Spain, listening to your worried parents calling your name. You were eighteen. What was his name? Oh God! What was his name? Richard? Richmond? Rickard? Something with an 'R'.
You know you are a slut. You know it because you keep dreaming it. Just the thought of it makes your pussy ooze with juices. It's okay, maybe one day you will find someone who will fuck your ass until you squeal.
"That's what you want! Isn't it? That's what you really want!"
Soon, experienced fingers pull your vagina open with one hand, while the other provide smooth and hot manicured tips to explore inside and rub all that juice over your hood, picking and pinching at softly puffed labia. You like to pinch your clitoris - don't you? You like to push down on it hard before suddenly releasing it. Doing that makes it bigger - doesn't it? It makes it tingle. It makes it vibrate inside -- doesn't it?
Shortened breath, increased heart rate, a rash spread across your neck and chest, means only one thing. You are on your way.
"Go on -- rub your tits! Rub your clitoris harder! Are you thinking of that girl?"
"Do you wish you had tasted her pussy?"
"Can you see her in your mind?
"Then what are you waiting for? Touch her! Touch her pussy! Do you see how warm and wet she is? Do you see how she wants you to fuck her with your tongue?"
"Then do it! Lick her pussy! Taste her pussy! It tastes a lot like yours! You like to taste your pussy -- don't you!"
There is nothing more blissful than masturbating under the sun. You want it to last, but urged on, fingers push inside more deeply, fingers rub much harder. Your ass, imprinted with small twigs, leaves the grass. Your hips hover in mid air, pushing your pussy closer and closer to the sun. There is no stopping. Not now. Not for anything, not even another loud crack of wood. It sounded close. Too close. Can someone see you making yourself cum? Just the thought of it is enough.
For a while, you allow yourself to indulge in the mellow feelings of that relaxing glow. It feels good. That naughty orgasm feels so good.
"Wasn't that just amazing? Did anyone watch you?"
Shooting up, your head quickly turns this way and that, scanning every tree for movement, for anything that looks out of place. It's okay! No one is there.
"But I feel as if I'm being watched!"
Reluctantly, you stand, daring to display your full nakedness, spending a little more time than is necessary to position your g-string, just right. Wondering if you would like to spend some time at a nudist beach, and simultaneously picture yourself tied securely to a tree with an erection inside your anus, you pull up your shorts, tuck in your shirt and do up the zip and button.
Safely dressed, you take a moment to reflect on what you just did.
"Oh God Karen! Why do you do these things? What if someone saw you?"
Walking slowly, back through the woods toward your car, you worry about a strange new feeling inside.
"You do know that you want someone to catch you -- don't you?"
"Shut up! Enough already!"
It's too late Karen. What is done cannot be undone. You know this. Deep down you know this. Cause and effect is unavoidable.