I relented without protest when Gus pushed me down to crawl again, feeling just too weary to object. As he led me out of the shack, I surprised to realize that the sun had already set and the woods were black as ink. We maneuvered by flashlight into the night, and though I had some trepidation about this odd turn of events, and I relished the cool air and breathed in deeply. Oddly, I felt less vulnerable with my naked body cloaked in darkness.
However, as Gus led me into a clearing by the edge of a still pond, I began to tremble. Just Gus and I alone, in the silence, in the dark. His feral energy seemed to climb all over me. He pushed me down to the dirt and rolled me onto my back. The ground was cool, smelling of must and decaying things. It seemed to comfort my wounds, and envelop me in safety. Staring up through the gloom of night, I watched Gus above, removing his clothes. As my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I almost gasped seeing his bulky form and thick muscles unveiled. Powerful. Dominant. Formidable.
I could feel his body heat aimed at me, and when I looked at his crotch, there was that magnificent penis jutting from a nest of dark, curly hair, fully erect. The head of it like nothing I’d ever seen before.
And this was in my ass!
I silently exclaimed.
He sank to his knees, then straddling my body, his thick hands pawing at my breasts, kneading them in his fists until they hurt. I was too petrified, too mesmerized by the man to say a word, or offer up any form of protest. In truth, I couldn’t ignore the fact that my cunt was pulsing, wet and aching to be filled. All thoughts of Reggie were swept aside as I focused on this awesome moment.
His eyes met mine and I reached for his hairy chest, as if I were drawing him into me. My hips moved, my whole body writhed in the dirt, eager for him, wanting him to fill me. He exposed a need in me that was new and alarming. I was suddenly caught somewhere between lust and loathing…though I would push the loathing aside. I was too exhausted to fight anymore. When he entered me, the first thrust of that hefty prick made me cry in happy anguish. I pulled him into me, wanting him and hating him in the same instant. I clawed at his back. Desire? Anger? I’m not sure. Whatever pain it caused him only made him wilder, more animal, more relentless in his pounding thrusts. He rolled me about, tossing my body about as if I were no more than a rag doll. His grunts and growls were soon matched in volume with my own. I was as animal as he was, forgetting anger, forgetting pain, forgetting thinking and everything but the savageness of the instant and the fine earth that cradled us both. My body yearned for everything he gave me. I wanted it harder and meaner. I wanted it to go on forever in this dark place of surrender. I began to orgasm in the midst of it, and continued to spasm and bite and scratch until at last he exploded, coming in huge tremors. He clutched me tight against his chest until the last shuddering wave died off.
For all the power that was expended in that first fuck, it was not enough for either of us. We let the ground cool us down, but as it did, my body began to writhe again. I put my hands to my crotch and fondled myself, deliberately groaning so he could hear me. I don’t know how many minutes passed before I finally rose up above him and lay down atop his thick chest, writhing once more, needing to get off again any way I could.
To my surprise, I felt his erection rising one more time. But he wasn’t about to be fucked by a woman from above. As soon as he was ready, he flipped me over to my hands and knees and took me from behind. The wild ride began again, though it was over much quicker this time, and when I fell back to the earth, I was finally spent, and so was he.
A strange gratitude swept me as I lay beside him in the dirt. My fingers curled around his hand, the only affection I would offer him, but it was heartfelt.
“Go wash,” he finally said as he pulled away from me.
And I did. I was grateful for the cool water of the pond as it washed away the dirt and the stickiness and the sweat, as it soothed my sore limbs and my scorched skin. My body was clean and comforted and sated. I had not a stray thought to spoil the blissful moment. Gus joined me in the pond, washing himself as I had done. Then we swam silently, seeing the moon rise on the horizon and reflect off the dark water.
Chapter Seventeen
The shack was empty when we returned. Gus and I were alone, and he was surprisingly more gruff than ever. Perhaps I’d been more willing than he’d wanted, I hadn’t resisted enough, given him an excuse to exert the savage control of me he seemed to desire. I’d sometimes wondered if he thought he could be a better Dominant than his boss.
As before, Gus tethered me to the fireplace bolt by the leather around my neck, then he tossed me a pillow and several blankets I could use as a bed. Apparently this was where I’d sleep. Once I lay down, he climbed into the cot above me and fell asleep. I spent several minutes adjusting to the awful quiet in the cabin. I heard the hoot of an owl, the cry of a coyote. Having taken a long nap that afternoon, I was afraid that I might lie awake all night, my mind an endless loop of memories as I went back through my day a hundred times. However, I must have been more exhausted than I thought because I quickly drifted off and don’t recall a thing until I awakened to the new day.
I woke at the first light of dawn, jarred from sleep by my aching body and the soreness in my limbs. I didn’t think I could tolerate another minute on that hard wood floor. My first clue of any change was the absence of the collar around my neck. It was not only gone, but no leather hung from the fireplace, no sign that I’d been tethered except for the bolt still planted in the concrete.
There was no sign of Gus, and the rough blankets I’d seen on the cot had been replaced with a soft blue cotton quilt. On the table was a jar of wild flowers, on the sink a basin and pitcher filled with clear cold water. I moved to my feet to get a drink and found in the ice box cold meat, cheese and milk. On the same table over which I’d been roughly taken was a covered basket with three kinds of bread. In another basket were fresh peaches, plums and grapes. Beside the cot hung a sundress, and I found thick towels on a shelf above the sink. Sitting on a small, handmade table near the bed was an antique oil lamp, my blue notebook and a jar with several sharp pointed pencils.
The shack had been transformed with a deliberate attention to every detail. Obviously Reggie’s doing. He’d taken great care in planning this change in atmosphere. Astonishing as it was, I recognized the same exacting measures he used when planning scenes of domination and depravity. I didn’t know if I wanted to love it or hate it; I didn’t know what it meant – was he being kind or was this just another way to manipulate my emotions? Rather stew over his motives, I decided to enjoy the transformation as a welcome contrast to the uncivilized savagery of the previous day.
I bathed. I ate ravenously. And I wrote volumes in the blue notebook, laying out all my contradictory feelings towards the events of the previous week and especially the day before. I don’t know if Reggie even read my crazy rantings, but the notebook was one place where I refused to edit myself. Just following the master’s instructions.
While I was soothed by the tranquility of my surroundings, the cabin’s transformation did nothing to diminish my sexual thoughts, in fact, they seemed more heightened than ever.
In the twilight glow of the waning day, I laid back on the cot and found my way to my warmed pussy and began to play. Thought after thought swirled through my mind, taking me places I’d never before explored. The binding, the uncompromising binding, and the sharp pain of the vibrant strapping filled my fantasies with new thoughts, new desires, and incredible possibilities. As my hands responded to my musings, rubbing furiously at my sex, they brought me to a frenzied orgasm that didn’t die away until I rubbed twice more and orgasmed with escalating fervor. I virtually had to make myself stop.
In a disturbing moment of clarity at the end of my long masturbation, I realized that all the events of the past week had their origination in my own fantasies. I had again brought fantasy into reality with astounding results. What was most distressing was that the fantasies I now found most thrilling were so farfetched and extreme that I couldn’t believe I would actually allow myself to experience them. What was of even more concern was that if I stayed with Reggie, they might likely come true.
Those thoughts cast a shadow over what should have been a refreshing break from the big house and the anxiety I experienced while waiting for Reggie’s next move. I began to feel edgy and impatient. Waiting here at the cabin seemed a terrible waste of time. If I was going to continue this sexual awakening, I wanted it to continue now. I had no desire to put off the next chapter in this remarkable drama.
A note from Reggie tucked inside the blue notebook instructed me to hike to the meadow on whichever day I chose to return to the estate house. According to those instructions, early the next morning, I left the shack and followed the path back through the woods to the meadow.
I was surprised to see that it was Reggie who would escort me back. I was initially enthused, hoping that we could talk about the last few days. I was dying to share the experience with someone.
“We’ll take the trail south,” he told me when he was just a few paces away.
My mind was spilling over with thoughts, my emotions were high, but Reggie remained tight-lipped as ever making no attempt to open a conversation. I realized that he had no intention of discussing the latest of my sexual ordeals. I followed him silently down a well worn trail, reaching the stables in just a few hundred yards, then we hiked up the hill to the house. The journey was considerably shorter than the long, naked trek I’d taken to the shack.
Chapter Eighteen
A week after my adventures at the shack, I sat in the living room after dinner with all the regulars, as well as Will and three or four others I hadn’t yet met. I think there were ten in all. I’d been waiting all week to talk with Reggie about Gus, the shack, the stablemen, anal sex and everything else that had been consuming my thoughts in the past few days. I wanted to discuss where he was headed next with my training – I’d even considered stepping away from such intense sexual exploits or ending my training altogether. I was terribly confused about the whole matter of what I wanted – other than my ongoing desire for him, which I was beginning to doubt would ever be fulfilled. Despite several attempts during the week to initiate that conversation, Reggie was always too busy with other matters to give me the time I needed. Thus I was left alone to stew over my conflicting desires. By the end of the week, I was on edge and out of sorts, but I kept my feelings to myself with no place to vent them.
For the evening’s revelry, he’d chosen my clothes as he usually did – provocative and alluring in a manner consistent with the other clothes I’d worn while in his house. That night he chose a snug-fitting blue skirt and a cream-colored bustier that tightly hugged my torso. The bustier was low-cut and designed to push my breasts together into a daring cleavage – a look that was now quite familiar to me. It was almost impossible to sit like a lady dressed in the skimpy clothes, and as usual, I was getting plenty of attention from several of Reggie’s new guests. This too, I’d grown accustomed to, though I was still not entirely comfortable being center stage at his evening soirees.
Though earlier I’d been speaking with Ann and Will, I was now alone by the fireplace waiting with some apprehension for whatever Reggie had planned for the rest of the evening. In the midst of his speaking with two unknown guests, he suddenly pulled away and addressed me in a voice too loud to indicate that this was to be a private conversation. “Alexandra!” The minute I heard my name I jerked around, feeling a shiver of fear traverse my spine, and a quickening in my sex.
“Yes, sir.”
“I recall a discussion a few weeks back when you suggested that how we express ourselves should be a function of our desires and choices alone, not made applicable to some higher law. Do you still believe that’s true?”
I was taken aback by the directness and complexity of his inquiry, having no idea that he would recall my comments almost verbatim. Still I answered truthfully, if not hesitantly. “Yes, yes I do.”
“Your goal in coming here was to find yourself, or to be more specific your
sexual
self. That correct?”
“Yes, sir.” I became increasingly nervous with his questioning. I could feel my inner body trembling, and was beginning to blush with an undue amount of attention aimed my way.
“And perhaps you recall my mentioning that there will be times when I may push and shove you in order to achieve your desired goal?”
“I do.”
“This is going to be one of those times that I start shoving. Be thankful for the warning.”
A rather pregnant pause followed, during which I noticed that my face was hot and my palms had begun to sweat. And he was just getting started!
“This is making you uncomfortable, isn’t it?”
“Very much, sir.”
“You understand that you have nothing to fear. Everyone here knows what I do and why you’re here – you have an entirely sympathetic audience, even if there are a few blatant voyeurs within their company. Makes you burn inside, doesn’t it?”
I nodded. A terrible ache grown in my sex and radiated outward.
“Speak up.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Uncomfortable being the center of attention?”
“Yes, sir.”