Oh man, it felt good to be home again. I’d been on the road for five weeks, and now I had five days off. It was still early afternoon, and Cindi, my girlfriend of about eight months now, wasn’t due home for another three hours. So, I stripped off my clothes, threw a load into the washing machine, and jumped into the shower. After using all the hot water, I put on some sweats and a t-shirt, and stretched out on the couch to watch some TV.

I had apparently drifted off, when the front door crashed open and Cindi came running in, and launched herself over the back of the couch, all 100 lbs. of her, landing on me. "I’m so glad your home!" she squealed. "I’ve missed you soooooo much!" She eagerly kissed all over my forehead, down to my nose, over each eye, across my cheeks, and finally, all but raping my mouth with hers. "You’ve been gone so long, and I’ve been so lonely, and horny," she said, huskily. "But now you’re home and you’re not going anywhere until I’m thru showing you just how much I’ve missed you," she gasped breathlessly, between kisses.

She reminded me of a starving animal as she began to work her way down my neck, and across the front of my throat. She pulled at the collar of my shirt, stretching it out of shape as she covered my upper chest with her sweet lips. When she could stretch it no more, so she reached down and pulled the bottom up, bunching it under my chin. She wiggled her delicious little body lower, her face now at my chest, and continued bathing me with her lips. I groaned from the onslaught, arching my chest up to her, my fingers entangled in her silky hair. "You’ve been gone for thirty-four days, nine hours, and... um, I don’t know, lots and lots of minutes. I need you! I could just eat you alive!"

She growled seductively, peering up at me, but squirming slowly lower down my belly. She continued covering my chest and down over my belly with her wet, passionate kisses.

"Don’t let me stop you, baby", I told her thru my clenched teeth, "although, I don’t think I could if I wanted to." I groaned out loud as she squirmed still lower, her fingers now slowly tugging at the waistband of my sweats. Her moist lips and tongue were now working their way down over my lower abs.

"Don’t even try it, mister," she threatened seductively. She pushed her knees between my legs, forcing them apart, as she curled into a kneeling position, and tugged desperately at the waistband of my pants. I raised my butt up and allowed her to pull my pants down over my thighs. She rocked back onto her feet, pulled my pants down over my knees, and stuffed them down around my ankles, then leaned forward again, and bathed my groin with her tongue. My cock was rock hard as she rubbed her cheek up against it and nipped around the base with her teeth. Her fingernails scratched along the inside of my thighs. I watched her, smiling like a Cheshire cat, knowing what was coming next. (Yes, the pun was intended.) My fingers curled tightly, in her hair.

When I first met Cindi, she was (and still is) working as a massage therapist. I was having some pain and stiffness in my shoulders and neck, from driving all the time. We seemed to hit it off right away, and I asked her out to dinner. We went hiking on the weekend, and then I took her for a ride in my truck. Just a short one, I had to pick up the load, but it wasn’t due for delivery for several more days. To say we 'clicked’ would be an understatement, but I had to get on the road the next day, and she had to go to work too. But every day off that I had, I spent with her.

Cindi is 23 years old, five foot nuthin’, weighs all of a hundred pounds, soaking wet. She’s got the most perfect set of firm, round, 34C tits I’ve ever seen, topped with the tiniest, little pink nipples. They get so hard when she’s aroused they could etch glass. She trims down to a 20-inch waist, then flairs out to the sweetest 32 inch, round, firm squeezable ass. Her legs are in perfect proportion to the rest of her body. They actually look longer then they are. Firm thighs, trim calves, and dainty little feet. Did I mention she works out 3 or 4 times a week? She’s got looonngg brown hair. I mean long! It hangs down, straight and silky soft, to the top of her thighs; jade green eyes, a little button nose, full sensual lips, and the most inescable oral, and sexual appetite, that I’ve ever encountered. We spent all of our spare time together, and after a couple of months, she moved in with me. We’ve been inseparable, except for work, ever since.

Her hair cascades off her back, down over my body, covering my stomach and thighs. She uses her hand and rubs my skin thru her hair. She knows how much I love that feeling! She slowly rubs her lips and tongue up and down along the underside of my cock a couple of times and then captures the head in her mouth and leans back, taking my cock with her. Pulling it down, so that it now is pointing towards her, instead of up at the ceiling, and she ever so slowly, begins to engulf it in the warmth of her mouth. Inch by inch, I watch as my cock disappears into her throat. I feel it hit the back of her throat. Her muscles contract, as her gag reflex kicks in, but she fights it, holds still for a few seconds as the throat muscles begin to relax, then, she continues, forcing me deeper into her throat.

I watch her, amazed that she can swallow the whole thing like that. But she does, and does it every time! I am such a lucky man! She wraps her arms between and up under my thighs, pulling herself still further down, until her lips are buried in my hair, her nose pressing into my skin, and holds herself there. I don’t know how she can breathe like that, but I guess she can, because she won’t release me until I cum. I can feel her throat muscles again, as they begin to quiver against my intruding cock. They start to vibrate as Cindi starts to hum. I can feel the vibrations along the length and throughout my crotch, as she peers up at me thru her hair. Those beautiful green eyes of hers are sparkling with adoration, and are a little mischievous, knowing what she’s doing to me.

I groan loudly, and arch my back, forcing myself, hard, up against her face. She grips me harder with her arms, not giving an inch, as though daring me to try and to go deeper, at the same time telling me I’m not going to get away either -- not until she’s done with me. My fingers entwined in her hair, my hands gripping her head tightly, as though trying to force myself, still deeper into her throat, a physical impossibility at the moment. I grind myself against her face, unable to restrain myself any longer, knowing I’m going to give her a sore jaw and nose, from the pressure of our bodies against each other. I have talked to her about this before, once, when I noticed the redness around her mouth and the way she was massaging the stiffness out of her jaw and the kink out of her nose. She told me not to worry about it, that I wasn’t hurting her in any way. And that the incredible pleasure she received, and knew that she was giving me, far outweighed a little bit of stiffness that would go away in a little while anyway.

In the back of my mind, I logged this little bit of info away with the others I’d been picking up in since we’d been together. I had not gotten kinky with her yet, had not tied her up, had not even told her about my desire to tie her up yet, as I hadn’t seemed to find the appropriate moment. I’ve been into kink all my life, and have had a few girlfriends who were into it, and a few that were not. But I did know that telling a woman you were working on building a relationship with, that, you were into BDSM, was not the way to start a relationship. Something like that needed a little finesse and tact before you just threw her down and tied her up. I knew that eventually, I’d get around to telling Cindi about it, the opportunity just hadn’t presented itself yet.

Meanwhile I was about to explode, and Cindi knew it too. She could always tell when I was about to cum. In fact, she prided herself on the fact that she could make me cum as fast as she wanted, or as slow as she wanted, depending on her mood. I had yet to tell her that, although I could probably hold out all day if need be, and selfishly enjoy my cock buried in the back of her throat, I also enjoyed the feeling of pumping my load down her throat, knowing that since she couldn’t resist, or swallow, that my cum was being 'force fed’ into her.

I came with a loud grunt, my hips bucking wildly, and Cindi, holding on for dear life. When she could finally pull her face out of my crotch, and off my cock, with a wet suction breaking pop, out of her throat, she would sit up with a concededly 'shit-eating grin’ on her face, and wipe the drool off her chin. I would lie there, gasping for breath, and a 'that’ll show ya’ smile on my face, and suddenly wonder, who had just 'upper-handed’ who here? But before it got too intellectual I’d grab her by the waist, lift her up and throw her back down on the couch, something that always made her gasp excitedly, hmmm, another subtle little submissive reaction, and fuck the hell out of her.

Well, we screwed ourselves silly for the rest of the afternoon, and finally came up for air, and food, about seven that evening. We both showered, and then, both wrapped in towels, sat outside, on the back patio and dried in the late afternoon warmth.

My place is in a quiet, secluded little valley, surrounded by foothills, on the, outskirts of town. I bought this place from an older couple who used to raise horses. There was the quaint little two bedroom house with the large covered patio on about thirty or so acres. A barn out in back, with a couple of corrals, a walking track, and one of those motorized walkers for the horses. The rest was all pasture/grazing area; all fenced off and surrounded with trees, and the foothills. Like I said, it was quiet, private, and plenty of room to park my truck, when I was home.

We talked for an hour or so. Cindi asked how my trips went, what all happened, etc. I would talk to her about her work, and experiences, while I had been gone. It finally started to get cool so we went inside and put on some sweats.  Cindi fixed a quick dinner. We sat in the living room, eating and watching C.S.I., Cindi’s favorite TV show. Suddenly there was a scene on the screen, with a woman being tied up by the bad-guy. I was watching half-heartedly, knowing Hollywood’s lack of authenticity for such things. But, mostly, I was watching Cindi’s reaction to this scene, out of my peripheral vision.

The scene showed a woman with her hands tied in front of her, her ankles tied, and the bad-guy putting duct tape on her mouth for a gag. I almost laughed out loud, but held my response. For the rest of the scene, the woman sat in the corner of the room, looking scared, while the bad-guy went about doing his thing.

When the bad-guy left the woman alone, Cindi blurted out "Now, you stupid girl, now! Reach up and take off the tape and use your teeth to untie your hands, then untie your feet, and get the hell out of there before he comes back!" She flopped back on the couch in exasperation. "I can’t believe that," she exclaimed. "She’s just sitting there, waiting for him to come back and rape and kill her."

"Calm down baby, it’s only a TV show." I chuckled.

"But that is such BS," she cried. "She’s not even trying to get away. It’s as though she likes it, or wants it. And that doesn’t even fit the plot line. I may be a bit naive about some things, but I’m not stupid either. This is a really good show, but I swear, sometimes..." She punctuated her disgust by throwing a handful of popcorn at the screen. She quickly jumped up and picked up her mess on the floor. "I’m sorry, sweetheart," she said as she gathered up the kernels from the floor. "I’ll clean this up right away."

"That’s Hollywood baby, they have a fine line to walk between what looks good, what’s authentic, what’s relevant to the plot, and keep the censors happy." I explained my take on it. "If the American people, as a whole, weren’t so fucking uptight, and hypocritical, things would be a lot easier for the entertainment industry. That woman would be tied up with her wrists AND her elbows tied, tightly, behind her." I began to rant.  "Her ankles and knees would also be tied together. Instead of just tape, there would be a fat rubber ball stuffed into her mouth, and then maybe some tape over that. She should have had on a blind-fold of some kind too. And then I would have hogtied..."

I stopped in mid-sentence. Cindi was just staring at me, as though seeing something she had never seen before. "Boy, do I sound like a lunatic or what?" I tried to laugh it off.

Cindi dug right in. "And just how is it that you know how to tie up a woman? Tie the elbows...? And what in the world is a 'hogtie’?" She watched me intently. One of her eyebrow was higher than the other, her puzzled look.

I pursed my lips tightly together, trying not to speak what my brain was dying to blurt out.

"Well..." She asked again, in the strained silence.

OK, motor mouth, you’ve been waiting for an excuse to bring it up. You dug this hole. Now you better fill it in before you fall in it.

"Do you know what BDSM is?" I asked her, in a very quiet tone.

"Sure I do," she stated, matter-of-factly. "It’s like that stuff we were just watching... kinda... sorta... well, no, I don’t, not really," she stammered.

"Good, cause that stuff on the tv... if it was real, it’d be called rape and murder. Not BDSM." I   continued to talk; she listened, very intently to my words. "BDSM stands for, bondage, discipline, sadism, and masochism. They’re all related to each other, but individually, they’re not the same thing. BDSM, as a whole, is consensual between two people." 

I explained, as best I could, for the next hour. She listened intently, not interrupting, until I finally paused, and took a deep breath. Then she asked the inevitable question. How long had I been 'into it’? And why hadn’t I ever mentioned it before?

So I began again, telling her all, letting it pour out. Finally, I said that it was just a matter of time until I would have. I was just waiting for the opportunity to present itself.  This wasn’t something that you throw out at the beginning of a relationship. At least, I didn’t feel it should be. I said that were lots of times during the past several months of our relationship that I would say, or do something, just to get a reaction out of her, to gauge her level of 'acceptance’, her submissivness, so to speak.

"And..." she asked, waiting.

"It’s all been good, baby. Really, it has. It’s just that... well, I’ve been... Oh shit, I don’t know, a little nervous, I think." I babbled. "I really am in love with you, and just didn’t want anything to mess it up."

"Well, I can see it’s a definite interest of yours, so it should be for me too," she declared. "I want to know more, learn more, all about it. Can you... will you, teach me, please?" Her demeanor was suddenly shy.

"I would really like that," I confessed, in a rush to state the fact.

I was suddenly relieved, but Cindi still had some questions. "Have any of your past girl friends been into this BDSM stuff?"

"Some were, some weren’t," I told her. "Don’t get me wrong though, I did introduce the idea to every one of them. If they enjoyed it, then we took it as far as it would go. If they didn’t, then I wouldn’t pursue it any further." Cindi was deep in thought for a while, so I broke the silence and said we should go to bed, it’s been a long day. It was three A.M. The next day was Saturday, and we both had the day off.

I was awoken by the smell of bacon and eggs cooking in the kitchen, so I climbed out of bed and into the shower. The shower was still wet, which meant that Cindi had already been in there. For as late as we had stayed up, she was up early. I went into the kitchen, came up behind her, slid my hands around her waist, and nuzzled her neck. She smelt delicious, clean, I mean, having just got out of the shower, her hair still damp. I untied the sash of her robe and opened it, running my hands over her skin and up to stroke her tits. She began to purr, and leaned back, pressing herself against me.

"You better stop that," she whispered. Her head lay back on my chest, eyes closed. "Or I’ll burn your breakfast."

"I’m sure I can find something else to eat." I toyed with her. She turned around and melted into my arms. When she looked up into my eyes, I could see her eyes were a little blood shot. "What’s the matter, Cin? You don’t look like you slept very well."

"I didn’t," she confessed. "I tossed and turned all night. Please tell me I didn’t keep you awake."

"You didn’t. I must have been dog-tired because I slept like a rock. But, what’s the matter? Why didn’t you sleep?"

"Well, let’s just say I had a lot to think about," she said. It finally began to dawn on me, about our conversation from last night. I wasn’t sure if this sounded good or not. "Sit down and eat," she said.

She joined me and we talked some more. She confessed to me about her most secret and intimate desires, her deepest and darkest fantasies, being tied up and taken. The reason that she couldn’t sleep was because they all came flooding back, not to haunt her, but to titillate and stimulate her. She confessed to me. "I was so hot and bothered last night, I’m afraid I left a wet spot on the sheets." She grinned sheepishly, blushing. "That’s why I had to take a cold shower this morning and I’m going to have to wash the sheets today."

I was, to say the least, a little dumb-struck. It was obviously not what I had expected, but was relieved to hear.

"You better close your mouth, or you’re going to dribble your food all over yourself," she teased, obviously pleased with my reaction. Breakfast done, we did the dishes together, and cleaned up the kitchen, all in relative silence. Not a strained silence, but rather a playful one. Cindi took every chance to tease me by brushing seductively against me at every opportunity. I decided it was time to further educate my Cindi. While she dressed, I went out to the barn and got the toolbox that I had kept my bondage equipment in. I was sitting on the couch, the toolbox, open, next to the couch, when she came in from the laundry room.

"What’s that?" she asked.

"I need to go into town and wash the truck and trailer." I told her. "I’ve got something for you to see, and some stuff for you to read." I pulled a stack of bondage magazines from a drawer and set them on the table. "You can read through these while I’m in town, and feel free to peruse thru the rest of it too. We can talk about it when I get back. Have fun!" I kissed her, hard, and left. When I got back, a couple of hours later, she ran out of the house, across the yard, and leapt into my arms; her arms around my neck, her legs wrapped around my waist, and locked her lips to mine.

She finally broke the kiss and gasped, breathlessly, "Show me! Show me everything you know! I want to learn it all!" She was grinding herself against my crotch.

"Right here, right now, in the yard?" I asked, carrying her back into the house.

"Why not?" She hissed seductively, into my neck, as she nuzzled, and nipped at the skin. "There’s no one around!"

"Don’t you have any questions about anything?" I asked her as I carried her, still fastened around my waist, into the house.

"Yes, millions, but we’ll get to them eventually."

I sat her down on the couch, in front of the magazines, that were spread out all over the table. All were opened to different pages, showing different bondage scenes. I sat down next to her. My bondage equipment too, was all over the floor, spread between the coffee table and the fireplace. My penchant is for rope, it’s much more intimate. But I had some leather stuff in there too. Also the usual assortment of clothes pins, store bought nipple clamps, various types of vibrators, a couple different sizes, and styles of ball gags, and quite the assortment of other bondage paraphernalia: Ace bandages, duct tape, assorted weights for the nipple clamps, various whipping and spanking implements.

"And none of this scared this crap out you, sending you screaming in horror, out the door?" I asked.

"Obviously not, I don’t know enough about it be scared of it. Some of this, stuff, I have no idea what it’s for. Some, I can only imagine. Some it’s pretty obvious. But I don’t care. I want you to use all of it on me. Show me all of it, everything. I do trust you, you know." She was talking loud and excitedly. Her face, and eyes beaming, she looked like a kid on Christmas day. "I’ve been wet since last night, and I had to change my pants this morning because I soaked them thru! I’m still wet, damn you! And look at my nipples," she exclaimed, as she squirmed her legs up under her, sitting on her knees. "They’re so hard, they ache." She put her arms behind her and stuck out her tits, pressing her swollen nips into the fabric of her t-shirt, for emphasis

"OK, OK!" I told her. "But there are some ground rules before we start. First, there has to be complete and absolute trust, between both of us. I’m going to do and say things that might be a little scary for you, but you have to know that I will do nothing to hurt you or endanger you in any way. But, you have to do anything and everything that I tell you to do, no matter what, and without any hesitation, what so ever. Is that clear?"

Her face got really serious. "Of course, I trust you. I trust you with my life. I have since we first met. You should know that by now."

"I know, but just for the sake of argument, I just wanted to make it completely clear." I told her. "We’re taking a big step in our relationship here. And by the way, you will be... trusting me with your life." I added for emphasis. "I also have to be able to trust that you will tell me if we go too far with something, and it threatens to hurt you, or when you’ve had enough. I want a lover, equally, in this relationship, not a martyr. And I couldn’t handle it if I hurt you because you didn’t, or wouldn’t tell if something was wrong, got it?"

"Got it!" She said seriously.

"Which brings us to rule number two." I continued, trying not to laugh at her intensely studious expression. "It’s called a 'safe word’. It’s a way for you to tell me when something’s wrong, and it works like this. If, for any reason, you need to stop, I want you to hum a tune, any tune you can think of, doesn’t matter. If you hum a tune, I will immediately stop what we’re doing, and untie you. Got it?" I demanded again.

"A tune?" She asked, obviously puzzled. "Why couldn’t I just say stop or something?"

"Because," I said, as I reached down to pick up a ball gag. "If you are gagged, then how are you going to tell me to 'stop’!" Cindi studied the gag. Then took it out of my hand and looked at it more closely.

"You mean this thing really works?" She asked.

"Yes, it does." I told her. "Oh, you can make noises, moan and groan, even try to talk, but you won’t be able to form or pronounce words. So, in the beginning, we’ll have the safe word. Eventually, I’ll get to know your limits, and then we won’t really need one. But until then... This is for your safety as well as my peace of mind. OK? And besides, as we get more and more into this, we may start 'role-playing’. You can say 'no’ and scream for me to stop, fight me all you want. But it’s just part of playing the role, so of course I’m not going to stop. But, when you hum, that’s the signal, and that’s when the scene stops." I took her gently, by the chin, and looked her straight in the eyes. "Come over here, and sit on the floor. On your knees, girl!  Back to me. I want to braid your hair into a pony-tail, and I want you to ask me any and all questions that you might have." For the next twenty minutes, or so, she asked, and I answered. I finally finished her hair, a luxurious, soft, thick braid, as thick as my wrist. "If you’re ready, I want you to go and change into something that you don’t care if it accidentally gets ripped." I told her.

Giggling like a school girl she bolted for the bedroom, emerging two minutes later wearing an old half-shirt t-shirt, and a shabby looking pair of cut-off shorts.

"I'll take it easy, and go one step at a time, building slowly, so you can experience little bits and pieces one at a time. I don’t want to over do it right off." I smiled at her, seeing the anxiety and nervousness in her eyes and face. "Now, place your hands behind your back, palms together."

The lesson had begun. I wrapped a doubled up piece of cotton rope four times around her wrists, doubled it back thru the larks head, separated the two pieces and wrapped them opposing, between her wrists for the cinch. Pulling it all snug and tying it off. "Tight enough?" I asked her.

Cindi wriggled her wrists back and forth. "Not tight enough. Look how much play there is." She replied. I untied the knot and pulled the cinch tighter, then retied it.

"Better?"

"Mmmmm, much better." She purred.

"Now, let’s see how flexible your arms are." And I gripped her arms at her elbows, and pressed them toward each other. "Relax your shoulders, and flex them backward, arch your back... That’s it, very, nice." I complimented her. "Your elbows can actually touch. Is it uncomfortable?" I asked her.

"No. Not really." She replied. "I stretch and do yoga, as part of my work-out at the gym. But I don’t know how long I could stay like this." She confided to me.

"You’ll stay like that until I untie you, my sweet. That’s why they call it bondage." I tried to sound as menacing as possible. I took another piece of rope, doubled it, and wrapped it around both her arms, just above the elbows. A good five wrappings, then double it back thru the larks head, as before, and cinched it up snug, and tied it off. I walked slowly around her, admiring the view before me. Her arms were now welded together behind her, forcing her succulent little tits to stand out invitingly from her chest. Her stiff nipples threatened to poke holes right thru the worn fabric of the old shirt she wore. I probably could hang my jacket from them and it would stay. I noticed that her eyes were starting to glaze as she began to explore the amount of movement that the ropes would allow. She was flexible, she could still reach around to each side, and lift her hands away from her back about ten or twelve inches. "Baby, you look fantastic!"

She walked over to the mirror to see reflection and stood there, turning slowly from side to side, admiring the view from different angles.

"Now, if you’re ready to continue, I’ll add some more to it."

"Oh yes, keep going." She whispered huskily.

"Sit on the floor, here, and cross your ankles, Indian style." I directed her. Then I wrapped and cinched her ankles together, but with a broad wrapping of rope (about a dozen wraps) that forced her to keep her ankles crossed, her knees spread, and not be able to bring them together. I knelt behind her and began to caress her bound arms, shoulders, and neck. Down over her shoulders, onto her tits, which I kneaded, and squeezed roughly. Pinching, tweaking, and rolling her nipples between my fingers. Eliciting squeals and moans from her as she leaned her head back into my chest, offering up her tits to me to do with as I pleased. I moved my hands lower now, down to her stomach, feeling her abs quivering beneath them. She could tell where I seemed to be headed, or at least where she wanted me to head. So, I did! I rubbed her thighs with my palms, and ran my fingernails along her sensitive inner thighs. She squirmed and wiggled her butt in a vain attempt to escape the tickling sensations, but I reached up and wrapped one arm, gently, around her neck, holding her firmly to my chest, and continued to tickle and torment the insides of her thighs.

"Well, I can see that you’re enjoying this way too much," I scolded her. "And I’ve allowed you way too much freedom of movement. So I think it’s time for some more rope."

She gasped and pulled away. Well, leaned forward, in a vain attempt to get out of my reach. I let her go, and turned, and picked up the blindfold and the ball gag. "And now the plot thickens." I rumbled, as I grabbed her by the pony tail and pulled her back to me. She squealed as she rolled backward, her head now on the floor between my knees. Her eyes wide with surprise, her mouth still open in mid-squeal, as I clamped her head firmly between my knees and stuffed the ball gag into her mouth.

"Awwkkk." She gasped. Her squeal cut short, as I pulled the straps around her head, and buckled it tightly. Her eyes darted wildly, her jaw flexing at the intrusion of the gag, trying to expel it.

"It won’t come out until I take it out. Now say, good night, my love." I reached for the blindfold. "Close your eyes or you’ll regret it later." This particular blindfold, my favorite, is actually an 'ace’ knee bandage. About twelve inches long, and eighteen inches wide, with the hole cut out in the middle of it for the knee cap. That hole goes over the nose and the bandage then covers the whole rest of the face, from fore head to chin. It attaches to itself with Velcro. I placed it over her face and stretched the opposing ends tightly around her lower face, covering her mouth, and attached it to itself, then did the same thing with the upper half, which covered her eyes. It makes a very effective blindfold, in that it can’t be rubbed or scraped off. Plus it adds to the effectiveness of whatever gag material you’ve got stuffed into her mouth by compressing and holding it firmly in place. It’s form-fitting like a hood, but much easier, and faster to apply. And I like the way it looks, as well as works.

Cindi went ballistic! Grunting and groaning and moaning. Rolling back and forth, from shoulder to shoulder, was all that she could manage with her legs tied wide open like that. She tried to sit up, but that was all but impossible with her arms tied behind her. Then she started to bounce and thump her butt and knees up and down on the floor. That did her no good either. I moved quietly back and took a seat in the chair to watch the show. Lit a cigarette, and let her wear herself out. It took about ten minutes. When she finally started to wind down, she was rolling her head back and forth, her chest heaving, as she gasp for air. Her dainty little nose was barely able to keep up with the demand.

I crept quietly up, next to her and whispered into her ear. "Are we having fun, yet?" She moaned and whined into the gag, nodding her head and banging her bound legs on the floor. "I don’t hear a song in all that noise your making, so I’ll assume that the answer is 'yes’." Her chest was damp with sweat, and her t-shirt clung to her, leaving very little to the imagination. I held my pocket knife right next to ear and snapped it, open. Cindi startled at the sound of it. "You know what that sound was, don’t you?" I asked with a menacing tone in my voice.

"Umm hmm." She hummed, nodding. Man! There is nothing as sexy as the sound a woman makes around something that’s been stuffed into her mouth, I thought to myself. "Then I advise you to be very, very still." As I gathered the front of her shirt, from the hem to the neck, into one hand and gingerly, slid the blade between her breasts. The edge facing up, I brought it up to the handful of material and jerked it roughly up and away, slicing the front of the shirt open. "My, my, what a beautiful set of tits you have there." I teased her. "And what a delicious set of nipples you have too!" With that said, I attacked her tits with my mouth, licking, nibbling, tonguing, and sucking them, veraciously.

Cindi cried out and began bucking and lunging, this way, that way, any way she could manage, trying to escape the intense torment that I was very intent on inflicting on her. I had to hold her down by her shoulders, to keep her edible little tits within easy reach of my mouth. Eventually I began the trek south, across her heaving, quivering belly, also quite damp with sweat. But I was stopped short of my intended goal by the waistband of her shorts.

"This will never do." I told her. "You just have way too much clothing on for a decent molesting. I want you naked, woman!" Back to work with my knife again. First bunching up the short sleeves of what was left of her shirt, and slicing thru one, then the other, and yanking the shreds out from under her. Last, but not least, I gently slid the blade up the outer hem of one leg, slicing it from bottom to top. I let her feel the blade against her skin, but had to jerk it thru the thickness of the waist band.

Cindi groaned, oh so woefully, at feeling the cold steel against her butter smooth skin. She tried to remain absolutely still, but she was quivering with anxiety. One more cut to make, as I gently drug the point of the blade from one thigh, across to the other, and slowly began the last cut. The front half of what used to be her shorts now opened to reveal the prize that was hidden within. And, a rather large wet spot on the fabric. Then, I roughly yanked them from under her, tossing them aside with the remains of her shirt. Now I had seen Cindi’s body many, many times, naked, quivering, and glistening with sweat, beneath mine. But never tied, gagged, and blindfolded. It was a thing of absolute beauty!

"God damn, baby, you are so beautiful!" I just stood there, in awe. Finally, I gathered my wits about me, rearranged my raging hard-on in my pants, and picked up some more rope (ain’t I the romantic s.o.b.). I reached down and threaded the doubled up rope around her waist and under her, between her back and arms, and brought it around her, and back thru itself, in front of her. The free end hung down across her belly, and down between her legs. She jumped as the rope brushed against her swollen, moist, lips. She was about to discover what a crotch rope was. I knelt next to her and reached over her to grab hold of her leg and arm and rolled her onto her stomach.

"Let’s see if we can’t tighten things up a bit." I told her. Taking a long hank of rope, I shook it out, and doubled it. Then I wrapped it, twice, around her shoulder, under her arms, around the other shoulder, and behind her neck, a shoulder harness. I knotted it once, to itself, and ran the free end down, under her bound arms, over, and up under her bound ankles. To one side, under her thigh, and back over her waist, under the arms, looped thru the shoulder harness and back down, again, over, and up under the ankles, and the opposite thigh, around the waist, and finally, back to the harness. Now, I knelt to the floor, my knees, right next to her crossed ankles, which I picked up and set across the top of my thighs. This forced her body into a backward arch, and I slowly began to tighten the rope harness woven around her shoulders and thighs. Working all the different sections of rope tighter, and pulling out all the slack, until she was held by the rope, in that severe back arch. When I tied the final knot, and stepped away, Cindi was left rocking gently back and forth on her hips and lower abdomen. She groaned from the strain of it, rolling her head from side to side. Her tits wouldn’t even touch the floor.

But, I wasn’t done yet, no sir! Her arms were suspended about six inches above her back by the 'bow’ of rope that held her arched. So, reaching between her splayed legs, I found the end of the crotch rope, and brought it up between her legs, over the waist rope at her back, over the top of the of the wrist bindings, and to her ankles. Reaching in between her legs once more to make sure the rope laid precisely over her clit and between the lips of her pussy, then pull it all nice and snug, and tie it off at the ankles. Not that she could move much, but any movement she did make would be transmitted to her pussy by any one of the 'guitar string-taunt’ ropes that bound her. For the final touch, I took hold of her pony tail braid, and pulled. Her tail was long enough that it reached to, and past, her ankles. Back came her head, tight against the tendons in her neck, and one last piece of rope wrapped around her ankles and braid, and tied off. Cindi could wiggle nothing but maybe her fingers and toes, and even that was a strain, except for the subtle vibrations she felt across her clit, which were already beginning to drive her into a sexual frenzy. Again, it was time to step back and watch her writhe in frustration.

I went into the kitchen and fixed myself a sandwich, and came back into the living room, sat on the couch to eat it and enjoy the show. For the next thirty minutes or so, I let Cindi bask in her bondage. She managed to rock herself, back and forth on her hips, ever so slightly. Her whole body quivered with tension, sweat glistening on her body. Between her legs, however, was another story. Her pussy was seething, the juices, actually bubbling up, around the twin strands of rope that cleaved her sex, trickling down her belly, to puddle beneath her, where her hips met the floor, and leaving a dark stain on the carpet.

For the final segment of her first bondage session, I released the pony tail/ head bondage, and bent over her, grasping hold of her hips and twisted turning her over, once again, onto her back. Gravity took over and pulled her body toward the floor, compressing her folded legs, and bound arms under her. I slipped two fingers between her soft belly and the crotch rope, and tugged gently. Cindi cried out into the gag, thrusting her hips in vain. My fingers slid lower along the strands, lifting them away from her skin, and eventually, pulling them from between her lips. With my other hand, I reached into a drawer of the tool box and picked up a vibrator. A butterfly type vibrator, a 'venus penis’, it’s called. It looks like a butterfly with a two inch penis sticking out from its belly. The wings of the butterfly cover, and compress, the lips of the pussy, while the head nestles against, and stimulates the clit. With one hand holding the saturated rope, I placed the vibrator against her sopping lips, with the other. Pressing the miniature penis into her, and letting the ropes, snap back, holding the vibrator, firmly in place. I took a seat on the floor, next to her, and picked up the remote control unit, and switched it on.

I thought Cindi would lift of the floor. Her body snapped rigid as the vibrations invaded her body. Her hips began thrusting, and pumping, madly. I didn’t think she had that much slack in the ropes. Within seconds, she went into convulsing spasms, a low, deep guttural, scream, found its way around the gag, and with one final convulsion, her body sagged, slumping to the floor, her head rolled slowly to the side.

SHIT! I, immediately reached over and pressed my fingers against the side of her throat, feeling for a pulse. Whew! Good and strong, and I now noticed her breasts jiggled slightly with each beat of her heart. She had just fainted.

But this session was over so I reached around and unbuckled the gag, and gently popped it from behind her teeth. The blindfold came off next then I went into the kitchen, got a dish towel and wet it with cool water, and wrung it out. I knelt next to her and gently mopped the sweat from her forehead, eyelids, cheeks, and mouth. I stroked each side of her throat and laid the cool cloth across, and around her neck. Pressing it against the arteries there, cooling the heated blood flow, where it’s closest to the surface. I didn’t want to attempt to move or untie her until she regained consciousness. About ten minutes later, her eyes began to flutter, and opened.

"Welcome back." I quietly greeted her. "You had me a little worried for a minute there. How do you feel?"

"Like I been 'rode hard, and put up wet’." She croaked, her voice cracking, her throat dry.

"Can I turn you over and untie you?" I asked.

"MMMMM." And a nod was all she could muster, at the moment.

I got all the rope off, gently rolled her back, onto her back, retrieved a glass of water from the kitchen, returned and cradled her in my lap, pressing the glass to her lips. "Sip it slowly, baby, so you don’t choke on it." After a couple of sips, I asked her again. "How are you feeling? Does everything work? Fingers, toes, arms, legs?"

She worked the stiffness out of her jaw, before she spoke. "My body feels like it’s on fire." She whispered. "I tingle all over, like there are ants crawling all over me. But it’s a delicious kind of feeling, and fingers and toes all seem to be working just fine, thank you." She snuggled deeper into my cradling arms, and sighed contently.

She finally opened and focused her bleary eyes, looking up at me. "I never felt anything like that before, in my life." She purred. "It was in-fucking-credible. I just wish I could remember all of it. I lost track of the last parts. I seemed to have zoned out. And you say I passed out too?"

"The zoning out part they call 'sub-space’." I explained to her. "It happens when a person with a truly submissive personality goes off into a place in their mind where they feel only what’s happening to them and are not aware of anything else that’s going on around them. You become totally focused within. The last part, when you completely passed out, I believe it’s the Orientals that, call it the 'little death’. Neither of which are fatal, but I must say, I’m really impressed that you were able to reach both those levels on your first experience. I’m very proud of you."

"Thank you, my love," she said. "But I must confess that although you have never failed to make me cum, several times, every time that we make love, what you did to me today had to have been the most intense, mind-blowing orgasm, that I have ever experienced. You are 'the’ most amazing lover I have ever had, the best!"

Excuse me while my ego swells to astonishing proportions. "Aw shucks, ma’am, just trying to please." I gave her my best (worst) southern-style humility act.

"Please feel free to take me back there anytime you please," she begged coyly.

"As many times, and as often, as you can stand, baby." I replied.

"Tonight!" She quickly answered.

"Again, and tonight! Just let me catch my breath first." I picked her up, wrapped her in the blanket from the couch, and carried her into the bathroom. Setting her carefully on the side of the tub, I started a bath running and filled it with her favorite bath oil. "I want you to soak awhile or you’ll be very stiff and sore tomorrow. I’m going to clean up the toys, and if you’re hungry, I’ll fix you a snack."

"Oh, I’m hungry, all right." She smiled that impish little smile of hers. "But, it’s not for food." She reached out and stroked the crotch of my jeans. "You’re still hard! And I want it."

"Stop that, you little nymph. I want you to rest awhile. You’ve been through a lot this afternoon." Not that I wouldn’t have loved to fuck the bejesus out of right then and there. My balls felt like they were ready to explode! I sat her into the tub and made a bee-line for the back yard. I needed to clear my head, both of them! Why is it, that a man has two heads, but only enough blood to operate one at a time! I went to the barn and cleaned out the tack room, which before, had been the 'play room’. But, when Cindi moved in with me I started to store some of her stuff in there, to sort of camouflage the bondage furniture and the eye bolts that I had long ago installed in there.

About forty minutes later, I returned to the bathroom to find her still in the tub, lazily, caressing her body with the sponge. "Oh, there you are." she purred, raising her leg up onto the side of the tub and sliding her hands down between her submerged thighs. "I thought you might like to join me?"

"I think we both need some food and to talk about what we accomplished tonight." I snatched her wandering hands away from their desired target. "Now out of that tub before I take a whip to your sweet little ass." I playfully threatened. Cindi froze in place, one foot still in the tub, the other on the floor. A look of surprise on her face, at the words, and tone I had used. Then she began to smile, stepped out of the tub and into the towel, and my waiting arms.

I wrapped them both around her, as she looked up, into my eyes, and said. "I’ve never been whipped before, but I think I might enjoy it. Especially, since you’ll be the one whipping me." I froze, just staring at her, and I guess my jaw was hanging open, because she reached up and pushed it closed with the tip of her finger, her eyes shining. Damn it, why had I waited so long to open up to her! She slithered out of my embrace and went into the bedroom. I just stood there for a couple of minutes, trying to make my brain and body work together again.

"It’s getting late," she called from the kitchen, "so I’m going to start dinner. Why don’t you join me and tell me all about this whipping thing."

We talked, on and on, for hours that night, and I eventually asked her if she would, rather, just play BDSM games from time to time, or would she prefer to start living that life style, 24/7?

"Could we do that?" She asked, seriously. "Could we actually do it, 24/7?"

"I don’t see why not." I told her trying to keep the excitement out of my voice. "We have the house and all this land to ourselves, and it’s very secluded and private."

"What about work, or, if, we go out somewhere?" She was deadly serious, now.

"When you’re at work, you carry on as usual, but the minute we’re together, we both assume our respective roles."

"And just what are our respective roles?" She questioned further.

"Mine is the dominant, and yours as the submissive, pretty much the way we’ve been all along, but a lot more intimate, more personal."

"I thought you were going to say something like, 'me Tarzan, you Jane’." She giggled at the mental picture of it.

I had to laugh too. "No, no, no." I told her. "That’s stuff is for when you just play at it. No Tarzan and Jane, no master and slave. What we’ve got between us, is as about as perfectly natural as it gets. We just incorporate the bondage and discipline, quietly, into our everyday lives. Only the two of us will know the secret."

"I think it sounds like the perfect relationship," she stated matter-of-factly. "It should bring us even closer together, and what could be wrong with that. Besides, I absolutely, positively, drip at the thought of submitting myself to you." She batted her eyelashes at me. "When can we start?"

"We already have, baby. We already have."

The next morning, over breakfast, she brought up the 'whipping thing’ again. "Specifically, how does one go about getting whipped?" She asked, causing me to choke on my eggs.

"Well, you get whipped by asking for it, or by 'asking for it’. You know, either by wanting it or deserving it." I regained my cool as quickly as I could. "Whipping you for pleasure is just a matter of taking you to your limit without going beyond it. Whipping you to discipline you would mean going beyond that limit, way beyond."

"Oh. OK." She stated matter of factly. "Would you like some more bacon?" She didn’t miss a beat.

"Yes, thank you."

Then she asked a real zinger. "Have I ever given you a reason to want to whip me before?"

"No, nothing comes to mind." I told her, truthfully.

"But as I recall." She continued. "You’ve said 'that I was in need of a good spanking, or a whipping’, several times."

"Yes, I suppose I did. I’d say it just to see what your reaction would be. Then, I guess it just became second nature, because you never seemed to object too strongly. And you do have a very spankable ass." I leered.

"I’m honored that you think so, sir." And she bowed delicately. "It would always give me goose-bumps all over when ever you would say it, but I was too chicken to push it any further."

"I think it’s a sin, all the time we’ve wasted..." I blurted out. She got a hurt puppy look on her face, her succulent lower lip, pouting. "I’m sorry, I don’t mean wasted. Nothing about you, or us, is a waste. I just wish we would have talked about this sooner. And yes, I realize it’s my fault that we didn’t. I was skittish and didn’t want to push it."

"Well, in that case," she mused, "you owe me several spankings, and time’s a wasting." She gave me one of her most devilish smiles, her hands on her hips. Once again, she had to push my mouth closed with her finger. "You’re dribbling, my love. Or is that drool on your chin?" She chided me as she walked into the bedroom.

"You better be careful what you wish for, you little minx!" I yelled after her. "You just might get it!"

"Promises, promises!" She yelled back. We bantered back and forth, all morning. When we went into town for groceries, she kept reminding me of anything and everything that she could think of that I might want to punish her for. The time when she backed over the mail box with my pick-up, the time when she spilled a glass of milk all over me, or when she had ripped my shirt in a fit of passion, trying to get me out of it. Then, she purposely, dropped a carton of eggs, right there in the store. Then told the stock boy that she was really, really sorry and that she would be severely punished, for it when we got home. Then, turned and walked past me with the most mischievous smile on her face that I’d ever seen.

I whispered to her as she walked past me. "We’re going to have a session when we get home."

I paid for the groceries, including two cartons of eggs, and we headed for home. Cindi was conspicuously quiet all the way home, although I did notice that she couldn’t seem to sit still the entire trip. She kept tugging at the pant legs of her shorts as if they kept riding up on her. But, all the while, she had this look of unbridled lust in her eyes and a blush to her face.

When we arrived at home, Cindi took off at a run, into the house. I thought she had to pee, and I ended up putting all the groceries away and still hadn’t seen her. When I called her name, she answered, "In here master." I walked into the bedroom to find her stark naked, kneeling in the center of the room. As I stepped in front of her she said, "I didn’t just look at the pictures in your magazines, I also read every story and letter. Isn’t this how it’s done." She smiled.

"You look exquisite, baby. But your knees should be apart, feet flat on the floor, and sitting back on your heels." Cindi quickly made the adjustments. "Very nice, now, back straight, shoulders back. That’s it. Now cross your hands behind your back, keep your arms straight, Beautiful, baby, just beautiful." Her eyes sparkled. "We’ll call this position 'sitting’ and please, don’t call me 'master’, you know I don’t care for that 'slave/master’ thing. Remember, what we are doing is consensual. If you have to call me something, call me 'sir’, ok? And refer to yourself as 'my girl’."

"Yes sir." She whispered, blushing again.

"Next position we’ll call 'kneeling’." I continued to guide her thru the Gorean slave postures. "Same as 'sitting’, but lean forward, keep your back straight and place your forehead to the floor." I knelt down and stroked her head. "I love you so much." I whispered to her, and she reached out with her hands, breaking position, without permission, mind you, and gently clasp my ankle. We could work on the 'holding of the position’ at a later time.

"I’m sorry sir, for my attitudes and actions today." She breathed. "I was impertinent. I was petulant. I was disrespectful, and not at all as obedient as I could have been. This girl, your girl, pleads with you to whip her soundly, so that she will remember it for all time and be reminded to never, ever disrespect you again."

"Where did you learn that? I asked, amazed that see would even say such a thing.

"I read it in a letter from one of your magazines, sir. Did I say it right?"

"Yes baby, you said it right. It was the sexiest thing you have ever said to me. But, are you sure about this whipping thing? I’ve warned you before, and I’ll say it again. A punishment whipping is very painful, besides you haven’t done anything SERIOUS enough for me to actually want, or need to whip you. But I do understand your need to know and to learn so, I’ll tell you what. I will give you three, full strength, punishment strokes of the whip. Not as punishment, mind you, but, only for you to experience it. Three should be plenty, believe me!"

"Your girl thanks you, sir." I got a handful of the rope and tied her arms and elbows, tightly, behind her back. I wrapped and cinched  a shoulder harness with the tail tied to the cinch at her elbows and continuing down to her wrists, keeping either from being pulled up or down. Next I added a padded leather blindfold, then the ball gag. I took her by the arm, to steady her, and told her to stand. Last, but not least, I tied a crotch rope snugly around her middle. Cindi immediately began to churn her hips on the cord that bisected her. Taking one more short piece of rope I tied it to the front of the crotch rope, just above her hairline, as a leash.

With a gentle tug and a groan from Cindi, I told her to follow the lead. We walked out of the bedroom, thru the living room and as I opened the front door to lead her out, she balked, stopping short of the doorway, obviously anxious about going outside, nude and bound. A not-so-gentle yank on the crotch leash, and Cindi squealed into her gag, and stepped out onto the porch.

"Five steps of porch and three steps of stairs." I told her as I kept a firm pull on the leash. She delicately came along behind me as I now led her to the barn. Once in the tack room, which Cindi hadn’t seen, cleaned out and with all the bondage props, as yet, I led her to the middle of the room, turned her just so, and told her "Stand right there, don’t move." With more rope I tied a four strand cuff, with a tail, to one ankle, then the other.

"Spread your legs apart, my love." I told her, then, tied one ankle to the ring at the bottom of the post on her right. Then, after tugging a little more spread out of her, I tied the left one off also. Her legs now tied about three feet apart, I reached over and grabbed the snap link that was attached to the over-head, block & tackle, and clipped it to the center tie at her wrists. Now, a couple of pulls on the draw rope, and her bound arms came up behind her, stretching her into a strappado.

I raised her hands only about eighteen inches off her back, and it caused her to bend at the waist, but, being as flexible as she is, she easily stood back up. But this was not what I had in mind, so, after I tied a short piece of rope, from the crotch rope to the wrist tie, I retrieved a set of clover type, nipple clamps. This would be Cindi’s first experience with them. I stroked and fondled her tits, easily, arousing the nipples into hard little nubs. Cindi began to moan, thrusting her tits out to me and weaving her hips, back and forth, rubbing herself on the crotch rope. She inhaled sharply, gasping as I set first one, then the other clamp to each nipple. She shook her shoulders, as though to shake the clamps off.

"They don’t come off until I take them off. And they only get tighter if you pull on them." I told her. The clamps were connected by a medium weight chain, about twelve inches long, so it danced as she shook, tugging at their captured prey. I took another short length of rope and tied one end to a flush-mounted ring in the floor, between her feet and the other end was tied to the center of the nipple chain.

"Bend over, girl." And I tied it off, forcing her stay bent at the waist. A minor adjusting tug on the over head line, tightened up the crotch rope. Now she couldn’t even bend her knees without strangling her pussy her on the rope. She began tossing her head, back and forth, moaning and groaning, as the sensual torment, quickly began to arouse her. And, you know me by know, I stood back to watch her writhe and struggle, listening to the sweet sounds of ecstasy that were oozing from around her gag. After about fifteen minutes, I moved up next to her and began to stroke and fondle her body, stroking her fires of lust. Her creaming pussy now began to flow, coating her inner thighs, almost to her knees.

I ran my hand thru her nectar and wiped it across her gagged lower face. "Inhale the scent of your passion, my love. Let it intoxicate you. Let it sear your brain. I’ll give a taste later." I teased. She did inhale, deeply. Rolling her head and crying out in frustration. I walked over to the wall and took down the whip. A six foot long, tapered fiberglass rod, that used to be a buggy whip, but with the leather covering and tail removed. I swished it thru the air a couple of times, getting a renewed feel for it. I saw Cindi tense up at the sound of it.

"Three of the best, girl. Ready or not," I asked. Knowing she couldn’t answer as I stepped into position and took aim. 1, 2, 3. I gave them to her quick and hard. I didn’t want to whip her without reason, but I didn’t want Cindi to feel like I held back either. Her body snapped to attention, as the pain seared her flesh and her brain. She let loose with an ear piercing, window rattling scream, so loud, that I was glad that I had gagged her, or the neighbor two miles away would have heard her. She lurched forward onto her toes, pulling savagely at the clamps attached to her nipples, and straining against the ropes that held her at shoulders, wrists, and crotch. She danced, up and down, on her toes for several minutes until the fire, slowly, began to subside, her body shaking as she sobbed into the gag.

Eventually, I let her down and carried her, her arms still bound, into the house. I laid her, face down, on the floor, next to my chair and retrieved a spreader bar. I attached her ankles to each end of the bar, then lifted her onto her knees, untied her arms and retied them, at the wrist, in front of her. Reaching, from behind, up between her legs, I took her bound wrists and drew them back under her to the bar and bound them to the center of it. She knelt, the side of her face in the carpet and her freshly striped ass, in the air. I went into the back yard and cut a tip off the aloe vera plant and went back inside.

Her sobbing had subsided and she had begun gyrating her hips again, trying to find some kind of friction to get off, on. I squeezed the plant’s gel into my hand and applied it to the three, angry red welts on her smoldering ass cheeks. She emitted a gag condensed, shriek and tried to squirm away, getting nowhere.

"Shhhhh. Hold still baby. I’m trying to be as gentle as I can, and this gel will make it feel better." I tried to sooth her. She was banging her head on the floor, stopping only after I threatened to tie her head back to the crotch rope, and finally, the aloe began to cool the fire in her ass cheeks, and she settled down, moaning pitifully, her hips swaying to and fro. I teasingly, slipped my hand between her legs to stroke her frothy lips, and strum the, taunt cord, buried there.

Several hours and several quivering orgasms later, I finally untied her and put her to soak in the tub again, then, went into the kitchen and fixed us both some lunch. I wrapped her in a towel, then in a blanket and laid her gently, on her side, on the couch and fed her by hand. We talked about the experience for another hour, during which she promised to never disobey, disrespect, taunt or tease ever again. Now that she had experienced the punishment, she never wanted to experience anything like that again. I just smiled warmly at her and told her how proud I was of her for facing her fears like she did, and that the taunting and teasing were still allowed, even required.

With that, she reached out, took my hand and drew my up to sit next to her, then she said something about being ready for dessert and unbuckled my pants and proceeded to 'blow my brains out’, as only Cindi can do. The next day was Sunday and she had to be at work on Monday, so we just lounged around the house. Well, I lounged. Cindi couldn’t keep her hands or mouth off of me. She was as horny, if not hornier, than ever. As long as she didn’t dare sit, we made love like rabbits all day long.

When I had to go to work, it was for a two week run. Cindi really began to hate my job now. Anything that intruded on our time together, beyond daily work, she didn’t like it at all. She asked me if I would consider another type of job, or work, with regular hours and weekends off, so that we could live out this new and exciting facet of our lives, we’d discovered. I was on the phone everyday with my boss, talking to him about it. Our company did have day runs, but, of course, everyone wanted one, and he wasn’t sure if, or when there would be an opening. I was on the return leg of the run, two days out, when I made my daily check call and the boss told me that the driver that did the mountain run, suddenly quit. Since there wasn’t time to post the run, and since I did have some seniority, and since I had been expressing an immediate interest, the run was mine if I wanted it. When I called Cindi and told her, she was ecstatic. I told her I’d be home in two days and we could go out to dinner and celebrate, and then, that I’d be home every night and every weekend from then on.

The next couple of months were great, every waking moment, when we weren’t at work, Cindi was bound and nude. One morning she tells me, "You know, I haven’t been to the gym in months. And it’s not like some of the bondage you put me in, isn’t strenuous, but if I don’t start working out, I’m going to get fat, and you wouldn’t want that, would you?"

"I’m sure I can come up with something to make sure that doesn’t happen." I told her, my mind already working on a plan. That weekend, we went to town to do the grocery shopping, but first I dropped her off at her girl friends house to visit.

"I’ll be back to pick you up in an hour or so." I told her, have fun. I went to the sporting goods store and bought a motorized treadmill, then swung by the hardware store and bought a new motor for the horse walker, the old one had rusted up, tight, since I didn’t use it. Then I went by the feed and tack shop and bought a trotting rig, and a cattle prod. If it’s exercise she wants, then it’s exercise she’ll get, pony style!

I took all the stuff home first, hid it in the barn, and then went back and picked her up. I worked out in the barn all weekend, telling her not to peek, or she’d ruin her surprise. I replaced the motor on the walker, and set up the treadmill in the barn, for foul weather days. I put in a couple of eye bolts, in strategic locations, for attaching her to the machine, and mounted the cattle prod to the treadmill, on the control panel and wired it into the speed control, but with a reversed polarity switch on it. With the prod on, anytime she went below the set speed, she would get a shock.  I removed the wand part and adapted a set of wires to it. The wires were the coiled kind from an old style telephone, and I secured two sets of clips to the end of it. The clips could then be attached to the nipple clamps, which were metal. You’re getting the idea, now!

The only thing I had to do on the trotting rig was to cut, and reform the two draw bars, into one. The single draw bar would be attached to her via a   harness, and mounted between her legs. I already had a bit gag and all the leather straps and cuffs I’d need. During dinner, I asked her about her workout program. I told her to design a program to warm her up and stretch her muscles, then a three stage work out program, and finally, a cool down program and to set it up for a, four days a week schedule, according to her intensity level, when she was at the gym.

Mondays, Wednesdays and Fridays, after we got home, and Saturdays, all day, when I planned to harness her to the cart and really enjoy the ride. (Yea, yea, I know. I’m such a male chauvinist). We would start on Monday, after work.

With my new schedule, I left for work at 2:00 AM and get home around 3:00 PM. Cindi gets home around 5:00 PM, so I’ve usually got a little time to myself. So, today was prep time for her new workout regimen. Cindi arrived home, bounding, excitedly, into the house, bubbling over with her usual enthusiasm, and ready to start her newly designed work out routine.

"I’m ready, willing and able, sir." She stated, emphatically, pressing her body to mine, and greeting me with a wet, luscious, kiss.

I led her by the hand out to the back yard and showed her, first the walker. Then into the barn, to show her the tread mill, "For foul weather days." I told her. "And here we have a little device for my enjoyment, as well as yours."

"Why does all this stuff look like it was designed for horses?" She asked, sounding, perplexed.

"Well, in the bondage scene, exercise is called pony training. Hence, the equestrian design of the equipment."

"And, what, exactly, does this do?" she asked, pointing to the pony cart.

"You’ve seen a horse pulling a cart before. You’re here, harnessed to the cart, and I sit here and drive you. You pull the cart around, as directed by me, and the reins.

"And the whip?" she asked, less enthusiastic at the sight of it.

"Don’t worry, my love. It’s only for motivation, not punishment, big difference, trust me."

"I do. It’s just that the memory that scared me a little." She said, rubbing her, still tender butt cheeks, gingerly. "Ok, I’m willing to try anything for you."

"I think I know you pretty well, and I believe you’ll do just fine with this." I comforted her. "You’re a very, competitive and, spirited girl. But we won’t use this until later, after I’ve acclimated myself to your stamina, strengths, and weaknesses. Remember, I’ve never worked out with you before."

"I know, I’ve never seen you work out at all! Yet, you’re in excellent shape, a very handsome body. How do you do that? Not that I’m complaining, mind you!" She quizzed.

"Just lucky, I guess. But I do work out, so to speak. I do isometrics while I’m driving, and loading and unloading the cargo helps too. And I take my vitamins. And thank you for the compliment."

"You’re quite welcome, sir." She curtsied, daintily. She’d been calling me 'sir’ a lot lately.

"Now, if you’re ready to begin, go into the play room." I directed her. The 'play room’, now being the new name for the tack room. "Go into the play room and strip. You’re warm-ups will be in two parts. Part one, you stretch without bondage. Part two, I put you into the harness and bind you, and you stretch while in bondage. Now!" I commanded.

She scurried off, and was nude and stretching, as I entered the play room. I admired the show as she smiled provocatively at me, teasing me as she moving thru her warm-up routine.

I collected the necessary equipment I would need, and by that time, my little pony was ready for me. First came, a body harness. It strapped around her waist, and two around her chest, above and below her tits, compressing them, causing them to swell. Two more straps went from the center of her tits, over her shoulders, one on each side of her neck, down her back, came together and went down along her spine to bisect her ass cheeks, pussy, and up across her belly, connecting to all the other straps, and buckling, tightly, to the central assembly between her tits. It also had two electrical contact points installed at precise locations in the strap, one at the clit and one at the 'tween’, with two, two inch leads that could be plugged into. 

It wouldn’t be buckled thru her crotch until last, as it had to be fed thru a receiver on the draw bar of the cart. The receiver of the draw bar was mounted, permanently, to the bar with attachment points for two dildos. The dildos would be attached to the draw bar and maneuvered in between her legs. The crotch strap of the harness would be fed thru the receiver and buckled up. The draw bar protruded out in front of her about, eighteen inches and had a strap attached to it that went back toward the body, buckling to the waist strap. Four feet back along the draw bar, behind her, was a second strap, and it came forward toward the body, buckling at the back of the waist strap. The draw bar would now be attached to her body at three points, but that was for later.

Next came, wrist cuffs and elbow cuffs that locked together and locked the arms behind her back. The waist belt of the harness had D-rings attached all the way around it, and the wrist cuffs could be locked to the waist belt also. Ankle cuffs were then locked around each ankle and I clipped a double ended snap link between, keeping her in one spot. Next, was a posture collar that locked around her neck, forcing her to keep her head up, and straight; and last but not least came, the bit-gag harness. The bit went in between the teeth and an array of straps went all around her head, and buckled. A blindfold could be attached, or not. And then the set of reins would be attached to each side of the bit, and draped over her shoulders.

"You look fantastic, my sweet." I told her. Cindi was chewing on the bit and eyeing the blindfold, I held in my hand. "Oh, we won’t be using this right away." I told her, seeing the concerned look in her eyes. "At least, not until you get used to everything." I let the threat hang, and added one last little adornment to her body, in the form of two nipple clamps with a rather large sleigh bell attached to each. She inhaled sharply as they bit firmly into the flesh jingling merrily with the slightest movement. I bent over and removed the snap link at her ankles, attached the reins, and led her out to the walker.

"Ut ahout hy heet." ('what, about my feet?’ was the question) Cindi stammered around the bit, showing me her bare feet, already covered in dust.

"If you’ll notice, the ground here is almost like powdered sand, from years of horses walking on it." I pointed out. "And I’ve already raked it, to keep it free from prickly things." I teased. "Besides, I like you barefoot. It’s very sexy. Now I want five more minutes of stretching from you." I returned to the play room and retrieved the whip. "Just for motivation!" I chided her, noticing her eyes were about as big as saucers.

I attached the reins to the ring on the end of the lead bar with very little slack. The walker was a good size one, probably about twenty-five feet across. Multiply that by pi, what is that, 3.14, or something like that, and the full circle of the walk would be about seventy-five or eighty feet per lap. Sixteen laps would be just short of a quarter mile. Thirty-two or thirty-three laps would be about a half mile. You get the idea.

Cindi had told me she ran three miles at the gym track, but that wasn’t wearing a full bondage harness with her arms tied behind her and mouth stuffed with a bit gag either, so I figured that a mile would be plenty. I walked to the control panel that was mounted to the center pole, and set the lap counter to sixty-six, and turned it to #1. It would, automatically, drop, from whatever speed it was running, to speed level #1 after the set count of laps had elapsed, for a fifteen minute cool-down period and then shut itself, off, or I could shut it off, anytime, manually.

I walked her for fifteen minutes, correcting her gait. "Knees higher, keep your back straight." I turned it to #2, a fast walk, for another fifteen minutes. Level #3 was a slow jog, another fifteen minutes.

"Keep those knees up." I said, tapping the tops of her thighs with the whip. "Stay with the pace, that’s it. That’s my girl, your doing great." She was breathing heavier, but still evenly and beginning to sweat. I walked a smaller circle, around the pole, following her, encouraging her and teasing her with the tail of the whip, by simply brushing, and poking it against her quivering ass cheeks. Cindi never needed any further enticement than that.

Time for level #4 now, a slow run, there were only five speeds on the control, but Cindi was running at a pretty fast pace, the bells jingling chaotically, bouncing and tugging at her breasts, sweet music to my ears. She was sweating profusely by now, but, after only a couple more laps, the machine clicked into the cool-down mode and, slowed to walking speed.

Huffing and puffing, Cindi, gratefully, slowed to a walk and continued to be led around, sweat pouring off her. I congratulated and praised her, for a work out well done. She tugged at the reins, shaking her head vigorously, and rolling her eyes, and bleating something ineligible each time she would pass by me.

"Whaaat?" I mocked with complete innocence. "That was only a mile. You told me that you do three times that at the gym. You didn’t lie to me did you?" I feigned righteous indignation, and shook the whip at her.  She crossed her eyes, and wriggled her bound arms at me, on her next circuit. "Yea, yea, I know, you’re not used to doing it while nude, and bound head to toe, in leather. All while being led around by an unyielding, unrelenting machine, and a mean man that threatens you with a whip! Can I get you some cheese and crackers to go with that whine?" I taunted her mercilessly.

"Just wait until bath time, girl!" Little did she know what, exactly I meant by that. She’d find out soon enough, because the machine had just stopped. I detached the reins and led her, still panting, back into the barn, and removed the cuffs, the harness, and the collar. I tied her hands quickly back together, this time in front of her.

Leaving the gag in place and the nipple clamps/bells attached to her aching nipples, I warned her not to touch them, and led her out back of the barn, to a small tree. Below the tree was a wooden pallet and I directed her to stand on it, then tied her wrists to an overhead branch, keeping all knots out of her reach. On the back wall of the barn was a water spigot, a hose and a portable sprinkler.

You guessed it! I turned on the water, directed the sprinkler at my filthy, and now loudly screaming, thrashing, pony girl, and left!

"I’m going to make us some dinner, baby. I’ll be back in a few minutes to get you. Enjoy your bath!" And, with a wave, strolled back to the house. I listened to the delightful jingling of the bells as Cindi thrashed and squirmed, like a fish on the line, trying to avoid the sprinkler spray, while I started our dinner. About twenty minutes later, I grabbed a couple of towels from the bathroom and went back outside. I turned off the water, and amidst much squawking and shivering, rung the excess water from her hair and wrapped it in the towel. I untied her arms from the overhead branch, but quickly retied her hands behind her and wrapped the second towel around her body. I tossed her over my shoulder and carried her shivering body, back into the barn.

Removing the gag started the protests. "That water was freezing!" She squealed. "I can’t believe you did that!"

"The water was not freezing." I replied. "It was just cold, and you were filthy from your run. I couldn’t take you into the house like that!"

"Well it felt like it was, so now you can warm me up." She countered, snuggling against my body for warmth. I wrapped my arms around her and vigorously scrubbed her with the towel, paying special attention to her tits, causing the bells to jangle some more. Then I bent down and dried each lovely leg, working my up to her crotch which also received an intimate toweling, causing her moan and sway. She had to lean on my shoulder for support. I once again picked her up over my shoulder and carried her into the house.

In the bedroom, I gently dumped her onto the bed and replaced the wet wrist rope with a dry one and tied her elbows again. I reached under my body and grabbed one leg, folding it double and tied it against her thigh, then did the same to the second leg. I left her to wriggle around on the bed while I went to check the progress of dinner. Returning, I picked her up and set her on her knees, on the floor of the bathroom and began to comb out her luxurious mane.

"Position #1 girl." I scolded her, noticing her knees were together.

"Oh yea, sorry sir. I guess I forgot." She said, demurely.

"Well ok, just don’t let it happen again." I tried to sound madder than I actually wasn’t.

"You know, I’ve been thinking." She mused, as I combed. "With me being tied all the time, you now have to do everything around here: the cooking, the cleaning, the laundry, doting over, and pampering me. Not that I’m complaining about that, mind you. But I live here too, and I should be doing some of it, somehow?"

"Ok, let me think about it awhile and I’ll get back to you." I told her. "Stay right here, I need to check on the dinner. Your hair takes forever to dry and comb out." I set just one place at the table, and turned the flame down.

"Dinner’s ready."  I proclaimed. "Let’s get these off of you." I knelt in front of her to remove the nipple clamps. "This is going to hurt worse than continuing to wear them." I warned her and removed the first clamp.

"Aagghhh! Damn it! That smarts." She gasped, loudly. "Sorry sir, I guess you were right, they do... Ow, shit, shit, shit!" the second one came off. She cringed, rolling her shoulders as though it would help.

"Here, let me." I leaned forward and gingerly, licked and sucked the first nipple into my mouth, rolling it back and forth with my tongue for several seconds. Cindi sighed and moaned. It didn’t take much to set her off these days. She arched her back, offering the second sore, throbbing nipple to me.

"Oh yes, aahhh." She crooned. "Mmmm, that’s feels good!" She lowered her head to the back of mine and began to nuzzle at the back of my neck. "Oh god, don’t stop." She purred.

"If I don’t, dinner is going to burn." I slowly extricated myself from her embrace, cradled her in my arms and carried her to the kitchen, setting her down, next to my chair at the table, She noticed the single setting at the table, but didn’t say anything. She was beginning to fall, naturally, into our new life style quicker than I had imagined. I served dinner and sat down to eat. Taking a bite, then, feeding one to Cindi, we quietly enjoy the meal.

"That was good." She complimented. "You’re a pretty good cook, for a bachelor."

"I’ve cooked before, smarty pants. You’re acting as though this is the first time."

"I know, but being bound at your feet and having you hand feed me just makes it taste better." She smiled her pixie smile. Oh, she was getting good at this. "Now, may I have my dessert, please, sir?"

Dessert, what dessert? I didn’t have anything planned for des... She leaned forward and began to nuzzle at my crotch. Oh yea... My life is GOOD. I obliged her and unbuckled my pants. Cindi gobbled her 'dessert’, with her usual enthusiasm. I leaned back and enjoyed my too. After dinner and dessert, I carried her into the bedroom and tied her face up, spread-eagle, to the bed. I took a piece of rope, wrapped it around her waist, thru her crotch, and tied a vibrator, loosely, against her pussy. Then I went to clean up the dinner dishes and kitchen.

Thirty minutes later, I returned to the bedroom to find my beautiful Cindi gasping and humping madly at the 'loosely tied’ vibrator. "You can be so mean!" She panted. "It’s not tight enough, I can’t cum!"

"I know." I smiled, devilishly. "You weren’t supposed to." I removed the vibrator and crotch rope, stripped naked, and climbed on top of her, ravaging her for the next several hours. I barely remember untying her from the bed, and we snuggled together and fell asleep.

Tuesday afternoon when Cindi arrived home, I was already there and she greeted me with her usual, hug and a juicy, wet kiss. "What’s on the agenda for today, my love?" she asked, since her next workout day wasn’t until tomorrow.

"Well, since we’ve been so busy all weekend and haven’t had the time, I thought we could do a little house cleaning. You said you wanted to help, and I think I’ve figured out a way for you to do just that." I smirked at her.

"I’m not sure if I should be happy or afraid, judging by that evil smile on your face." She responded warily.

A few minutes later and I had her naked and bound. Arms and elbows tied, tightly behind her back, (Yes, I love that position.) and a hobble on her ankles, giving her about a foot long stride. I stuffed the ball gag into her reluctant mouth, and guided her into the living room. The vacuum cleaner stood there, ominously. I had also brought the nipple clamps with the bells and another piece of rope. I had her spread her feet as far as the hobble would go, and wrapping the rope around her waist, then setting the handle of the vacuum between her legs, up against her pussy, and wrapped the remaining rope around the handle and back up to the waist rope, tying it off. The rope held the vacuum, firmly in place, but she could grip it with her fingers too. I clipped the nipple clamps to her, and turned on the vacuum.

"Just ring when you need some help with something." She was already whimpering from the vibrations the vacuum was sending thru her crotch. I pushed all the furniture to one side of the room and stood back to watch the show. She shuffled along, pushing the vacuum with her hips, to the corner and started a pattern. She would take about six steps forward and six steps back, working her way across the room, then take about twelve steps back, and start the pattern again, in the opposite direction. She had just finished the second pass, when her knees buckled and she collapsed to the floor, with a melodious, jingling thump.

I rushed over to help her, only to find her eyes rolled back and her hips thrusting in ecstasy, against the vacuums handle. I quickly realized that she’d had an orgasm but was ok.

"You’re not going to get much work done sitting around, having orgasms all day!" I chuckled, helping her to her feet.

She stood, on shaky legs, on her own, and glared at me over the gag. "Ah on no ow uck o or o is ah nn ack." (I don’t know how much, more of this I can take?) Was the translation from gagged-eze. Yes, I’m getting better at it.

"That’s not the point, is it?" I reminded her. "It’s your job, at the moment, to vacuum the living room. When you finish this side, I’ll move the furniture to the other side, so you can finish it. Thus the whole room gets done." As though, I was explaining it to a child. "Then, we move on to the next room and do it all over again." 

Cindi emitted a nasally whine, and uttered something about 'death by orgasm’, I think, and began again. She finally finished the living room, but not before two more orgasms overtook her. She managed to stay on her feet thru both, but was now stumbling, more than walking.

By the time she gets done, the handle is going to be a sticky mess, I thought to myself. I hope it’s not going to short out, imagine trying to explain that to the repairman!

The living room, finally done, I unplugged her and directed her to the bed room.

"M gng o ap u en ah et fgh is ng." She mumbled, shuffling, and jingling, by me, towards the bed room. (I’m going to rape you, when I get off of this thing.) Or something like that, ok, my translations aren’t perfect yet. I just smiled, and gave her, an open handed smack to her bare butt. Everything in the bed room sits on the floor, except for the bed, so I wouldn’t have to move any furniture around, and wait to move it back. So, with that, I plugged her in, and went back to the living room to put it back together.

"And don’t forget to get under the bed!" I yelled above the noise of the motor; wondering, how she would manage to accomplish that. Cleaning the house had never been so much fun, for me, anyway! Even though it took, damn near, all day. I did have to answer her bells, one time. They were ringing, madly away, and I found her, on her knees, with the vacuum stuck under the bed, and Cindi was tugging at it with her hips, of course, trying to unstick it. But only managed to drive herself to another orgasm. The tugging, quickly turned to thrusting and humping, as though she was fucking it like a lover, and another massive orgasm racked her body and she toppled to the floor again. I believe that made five, or was it six?

I had to get in the shower with her that night, just to hold her up and helped her wash, she was so exhausted. She was asleep before her head hit the pillow. I covered her up and put the vacuum away, after washing off the sticky handle. By god, the house was clean though. But I’m thinking she was beginning to like that vacuum a little too much.

The next day was Wednesday, a work-out day. Things went according to plan, my plan anyway! I walked her for only five minutes and ran her, hard, the rest of the time, for two miles. For her after work-out bath, I hung her up, by her ankles, in the barn, having to pull her all the way to the rafters to keep her hair off the floor, and took a course, stiff scrub brush to her, calling it an 'exfoliation treatment’. "Just like at the spa." I told her. Her body flushed to an, almost iridescent pink hue, by the time I was done with her.

Thursday was cloudy and cool out, so I just bound her, into a loose hog-tie, laid her in front of the fireplace, started a fire, and proceeded to bring her as close to an orgasm as many times as I could before fucking the wind out of her. It took hours. Yes, I’ll say it again. "My life is GOOD!"

Friday, it looked like it wanted to rain, so I took the opportunity to show her the treadmill. Dressed out in full harness, collar, arms and elbows bound behind her, of course. I placed her on it and hooked up the last little surprises. The leads from the cattle prod were plugged into the crotch strap and attached to the nipple clamps. Two straps were attached from the waist belt to the frame bolts, I had installed earlier. These helped to keep her in place on the machine, so she couldn’t just 'step off’. And when I put the blindfold on her, she wouldn’t have to see, to stay on it.

I started the machine and explained its tortures to her. "If you stay moving faster than the set speed, you’ll be fine." I explained. "But if you don’t..." I paused for effect. "You will receive a 'little bitty’ shock to the more sensitive parts of your anatomy. So, luckily, for you, we won’t need the whip."

Cindi just groaned at the implications. I did attach the reins too, just for effect, and tied them to the post in front of her. "Let’s begin, shall we." And hit the start button. I had set it at the lowest speed, it had ten. I turned it up to three, a brisk walk. I waited until Cindi was paced and reminded her that she had to keep a little faster than the set speed, she couldn’t just let the machine 'walk her’. I flipped the 'on’ button to the electricity and stepped back to watch.

I lit a cigarette and finished it before I turned it up to six. Cindi screeched into the gag, as the voltage bit her. Ooppps! I forgot to warn her. My bad! She stepped out quickly to pick up her pace. Now a steady, but easy run. I tightened the straps to her waist belt, a notch, to keep her aligned, and straight on. This machine had a timer and a pedometer too. You could set one, or the other, and when it hit that mark, it would slow to a cool down walking speed for ten minutes and then stop, and shut off. Since I had wired the 'motivator’ into the control panel, it would shut off too. I set it for two miles, as before, and leaned back, against the wall to watch.

I loved to watch Cindi run. Her muscles flexing, her legs flashing, breasts heaving, and all that leather wrapped around her delicious little body. And, with her arms and elbows, bound behind her, it forced her body into an unusual, but sexy gait. If it wasn’t raining tomorrow, I think I’ll harness her up to the pony cart, and run her around the track, and I told her so.

Saturday morning, I awoke to the sun coming up, and Cindi going down, on me.  My morning stiffy, blew in record time. She poked her head out from under the covers, smiling, licking her lips, and began to kiss her way up my abdomen. Planting a wet one on my lips, I could taste the saltiness, left there.

"Good morning, lover." She greeted me with a smirk.

"Good 'moanin’ to you too, sweetheart!" I replied, still gasping from her oral assault. "What’s got you in such a good mood this fine and glorious morning?"

Cindi snuggled into my arms, her handcuffs clacking together. She had taken to wearing them at night, not so much as restraint, but as an adornment, and wouldn’t take them off until I put something else on her. "I’m looking forward to running for you today. You know, with the cart. I saw some pictures of it in one of your magazines and I dreamt about it all night.  It seemed so... so sexually primal. And I can’t wait to start." She was absolutely bubbling.

"Well, I’m going to take a shower, so why don’t you start breakfast and I’ll be right there." She giggled like a school girl, as she bounded out of bed and pranced, nude into the kitchen. Did I mention what a lucky man I am? I made it a quick shower as, the smell of bacon and eggs, was making my stomach growl. Cindi was wearing, nothing but this cute little red and white apron, when I came into the kitchen, wearing only a towel.

"Your breakfast is served, sir." She said, as she knelt at my feet, spread her knees, and offered the plate to me. It was then that I noticed it was heaping full, enough for two! What a woman! I took the plate and she shuffled closer, placing her cuffed hands behind her head. God, I love this woman! Did I just say that or think it? Oh well, "You are so beautiful. I love you."

I gave her the first bite, and she took it, with tears welling in her eyes. She laid her head in my lap, raising it only to take the next bite. We finished breakfast in a comfortable, and content, silence. Cindi did the dishes, quite adapt at working with the cuffs on, as I just sat and watched her, admiring her, relishing her.  She had given herself to me, so completely, I knew I would have to make her mine, forever. I began to plan.

Meanwhile, as I was lost in thought, Cindi disappeared into the bed room. When she didn’t, immediately return, I followed. She was kneeling in the center of the room, head to the floor, her arms out in front of her, holding a handful of rope. "I believe it’s time for my work-out, sir. I wish to run for you."

I bound her arms behind her and put her hair in a pony tail, appropriate, don’t you think. Then I leashed her with a crotch rope, and led her out to the barn. She began to pant as soon as I buckled the harness on her. She stood, stock-still with her arms behind her head, and her legs apart, then offered her arms up, behind her, to be cuffed together. She tilted her head back, mouth open, to accept the bit, and bit down onto it as I buckled it in place, pulling her pony tail thru the ring at the back, then, the collar and blind fold. She squirmed, uneasy, for a second, never having had to run the track, blind. Last came the ankle cuffs. She stood in place, pawing at the dirt with her foot, anxious to start, as I wheeled the cart into position at the barn doors that led to the track.

I attached the reins to her bit and led her to the front of the cart. From my pocket, I pulled out a tube of KY, and slathered the anal dildo and attached it in place. I seriously, didn’t think I would need any for the other, but coated it, anyway, and attached it next to the first to the draw bar.

"Spread your ankles and squat, slowly." I told her, and taking her by the arm, I guided her down to the double dildos. With my other hand, I reached under her and aimed her. She squealed, as the heads penetrated her, simultaneously. I fed the strap from the body harness thru the receiver on the draw bar, and brought it up in front of her, sliding it into the buckle, and slowly pulling it up, tight, drawing the dildos into her. She gasped, repeatedly, as they slid home, and I locked the buckle. Connecting the two draw straps, front and rear, to the waist belt, and draping the reins over her shoulders, I laid them across the front of the cart.

"Stand, my beautiful pony girl." I commanded her. She stood, and swooned at the shifting of the dildos, buried to the hilt, inside her. "You know how a horse is guided, right?" She nodded her head. "Ok, when I shake the reins once, it means move forward, at a walk. Two shakes means, faster, three shakes, faster, and so on. A pull to the right and you turn to the right until the pull stops. A pull to the left means left until the pulling stops. And, of course, pulling back, means slow, with continual pressure meaning stop." I instructed her. "We’ll take it slow at first, until I think you’re ready to run. I have the whip handy, but I shouldn’t have to use that if you obey quickly, and precisely, no more and no less than what the reins, or my voice tells you. Is that understood?" I asked, sternly.

Again, she nodded.

I climbed into the rig, took hold of the reins, and with a shake, we were off. Cindi moved ahead, wavering, from side to side, and a little shaky, unsure of herself, in her blindness.

I decided to accent each command of the reins with a voice command also, and see if that would help. "Easy, right." I told her, pulling to the right, then releasing the pull, as we came out onto the track.

"Straight." She still wavered a little, not sure where 'straight’ was. "Just go with it and trust me, baby. You don’t know where straight is, so just go, and let me guide you, feel the tension, or lack of it, in the reins. Trust your instincts, and me, and just go with the flow."

She nodded her head, it seemed to calm her and her confidence rose quickly.

"Trot." I said and shook the reins twice. Cindi groaned as she started to trot, the dildos began 'bouncing’ inside her, just from the difference in the motion of her body and the cart. She quickly began to roll her hips more than a runner would normally do, to reduce the jolt of the bouncing. The track was a quarter mile oval, and the first lap was done walking. The second lap is when I started her to trot, and we made two laps. Already, I could see her juices glistening on the crotch strap, the draw bar and her thighs, as the dildos worked their magic, despite her efforts to stop the undulations.

Three shakes now. "Now run, pony girl, run!" Sweat was already pouring down her back, and legs, but she leaned onto it and began to run. The track was about twenty feet across, so I steered her left and right, weaving her back and forth across the track. She performed, almost flawlessly, trusting my guidance. I ran her for two full laps, then slowed for half a lap and stopped in front of the barn door. I dismounted, and led her to the fence and tied off the reins to the rail. I bent down and clipped her ankle cuffs together.

She was huffing and puffing like a steam engine, dripping with sweat, but despite her present condition, she couldn’t seem to keep her hips still. They seemed to have a life of their own, twisting, thrusting, and grinding together. I retrieved a water bottle and gave her a drink, she gulped it spasmodically, despite of, or because of, the bit still in her mouth. Then I took a damp towel and wiped her body down too. Then I ran her again, and again, and again. I lost count of the laps she ran, but we spent all morning on the track. Cindi finally dropped to her knees during the last water break, but unable to topple over because of the twin dildos and the draw bar, propping her up. Her head slumped forward, totally exhausted from the running and the countless orgasms.

I had to carry her into the house, again, and removed the harness and cuffs, and set her into a warm tub. Afterwards, I laid her on the bed and gave her a massage, using her favorite oil, rubbing her down for an hour. Between the relentless pounding from the dildos and orgasms, the exhilaration of the run, and the rub down, she fell fast asleep, so I went and fixed some lunch. I had a hard day too! She didn’t wake up until just before dinner, she came out of the bed room, wearing her hand cuffs and an old t-shirt of mine that fit her tiny frame like a poncho.

"Well, there’s my sleeping beauty. I was going to come in and wake you soon, to eat something." I smiled at her and opened my arms for her to come and sit next to me. She still looked a little groggy as she sat, curling up under my arm and tucking her legs up, under her. "How you feeling?" I asked.

"I’m not sure which was worse," she confided, "being forced to run, or forced to cum without a break. My thighs are on fire, my pussy feels like it’s been pounded by a football team, twice. But other than that, I feel great!"

"I didn’t hear you hum, for me to stop." I asked, a little concerned.

"Oh no, I couldn’t. I know that you push me, for my own good, and you know that I trust you to take care of me, and watch out for me no matter what. Besides, I’m sure you enjoyed yourself, all to hell!" She poked me in the ribs, for emphasis. "I push myself, for me, because I know it’s good for me. And I know my own limits. I have been working out for several years, you know!" She continued. "I run for you because I know how much you enjoy doing it to me, and I don’t want to disappoint you."

"Cynthia Marie!" I bellowed. "Of all the things that you are to me, a disappointment, is not even to be considered. Don’t even think that!" I grabbed her around the waist, pulled her over my lap, and began to lightly, spank her. She kicked and screamed, as though I was killing her, but at the same time, arching her sweet ass up to meet my hand. Her breaths came quickly and her protests gave way to moans of passion, her cuffed hands, clawing at the arm of the couch. I raised the hem of her shirt to expose bare skin. It was rosy pink with my hand prints all over it, and warm to the touch. She began to squirm lower until her face was in my lap and started gnawing at the fly.

"You are incorrigible, girl!" I grabbed a handful of hair and yanked her head back. She was panting, her eyes already glazed with lust. I bent over and kissed her, kissed her hard. Forcing her mouth open and nipping at the inside of her lower lip, the way she likes it.

She forcibly broke the kiss, gasping for air. "Please..." She pleaded. "I want you... need you, please, now!"

I lifted her up onto my lap, and she spread her legs to each side of mine, grinding her hips against me, and lifted her cuffed arms over my head. We kissed hard, again, and I thrust my hips against hers, in need. I stood up, with Cindi glued to my hips, her ankles crossed and locked behind me. One arm around her waist and one across her back, my hand still entwined in her hair, and laid her back down on the couch. She clawed at my shirt, pulling it up and over my head, while I ripped open my pants and pushed them down, leaning over her and thrust my cock into her sopping wet pussy. I buried myself to the hilt in one thrust, and Cindi came immediately, crying out with her need. I pounded her, relentlessly, as she clung to me, taking all I was giving and wanting more. She came a second time, within seconds of the first, her whole body convulsing, her orgasm gushing between us, wetting me from my belly button to my thighs. Our hips slapped, wetly, together as I continued to pound her, my own orgasm building rapidly. I finally erupted like a volcano, spewing my load into her, with a final thrust and collapsed onto her, choking for breath.

"Damn it, girl." I gasped, still grinding into her, but winding down. Cindi released her legs 'death’ grip on my hips and lifted her arms over my head, pushing and prompting me to move up, withdrawing my dripping cock. I allowed her to move me up, until I knelt in front of her face. She stuck out her tongue, guiding my, still pulsing, cock into her waiting mouth, sucking me, greedily, into her throat, slurping wetly, to get it all the way in. She licked and caressed me with her tongue, cleaning our mixed cum off every inch she could reach, then releasing it, she ducked lower and began licking the juices off my balls and inner thighs, cleaning them too. I shuddered above her as she came up for air and then swallowed me again, deep-throating me. My balls quickly filled and I exploded, again, into the depths of her throat. No one, but my Cindi, has ever been able to make cum twice, that fast.

Anyway, we spent the next couple of months in B&D bliss, and finally came a holiday weekend, when we had four fabulous days off, together. I decided we should go camping again, a B&D camping trip, this time. Cindi was eager as ever. We packed the camping and bondage gear into the pickup, and took off for the mountains. We headed for the same spot that we went to before, a spot that I have gone to for several years, so I knew it to be remote, desolate, and very secluded. It was up a small, winding little box canyon that had this stream trickling thru it. At the top of the canyon was a shear cliff, forming the box, with the stream, water falling from the top, into a small pool. It took some serious four-wheeling, and rock-crawling, to ascend the canyon, crossing the lower parts of the stream three times, to get up there. The pool was about twenty, to thirty feet across and had about fifteen feet of 'sandy beach’ surrounding it. Surrounding that, was a thick 'jungle’ of weeping willows and pine trees, and just enough room to park the truck and set up the tent.

I collected some firewood as Cindi set up camp. Coming into the clearing, with an armload of wood, I could see Cindi working, the sun glinting off the chrome handcuffs, and of course, she was already nude. Drive time was about an hour and a half, with an additional hour of four wheeling and rock-crawling, to get up the canyon, so it was close to lunch time when we arrived. I got naked too, and we had sandwiches and talked, casually, unwinding and relaxing in the solitude.

Cindi mentioned to me about a web site that she had checked out, called 'hunting bambi.com’, exclaiming excitedly. "That would be fun to do, sometime. You could hunt me down, your naked prey, as I tried to evade you." She mused. "Shoot me with your gun, (paint ball gun) capture me, tie me up and force yourself on me, your helpless prisoner!" She smiled wickedly.

"Nope, can’t be done." I replied. She looked at me, a little confused, almost hurt.

"My creed is 'take no prisoners, only slaves!"

She smiled again. "Even better!" She exclaimed.

"But there’s not enough room around here to do something like that." I told her. "We’d have to go to 'bambi’s place’, find out if they allow private parties to play there, the cost, how much 'playing’ they would allow, etcetera, etcetera..."

"I can probably ask all that on their web site." She said. With lunch finished, Cindi was laying out on the blanket, as we talked, basking in the warmth of the afternoon sun, working, on her tan. She was a light brown all over, with sexy tan lines where her bikini, barely, covered her. Her nipples, swollen and engorged, from the heat. Her tiny, triangle of pubic hair, rustling slightly in the gentle breeze. Ok, ok, so I enjoy watching her, looking at her, every inch of her! She’s 'doll’ perfect, man! Gimme a break!

"I’m really horny!" she stated, matter-of-factly, without moving her head or opening her eyes, apparently feeling my gaze on her. Hell, I didn’t need a written invitation. I quickly removed the cuffs, tied her wrists in front of her, but tied to an overhead branch of a small tree, to one side of the clearing. The ball gag crammed in between her teeth, as I knelt at her feet, tying her ankles together. I attached another strand to her ankle bindings and ran it up and over the branch where her wrists were already tied, Cindi, eyeing me, questioningly, as I did. With the free end in one hand, I bent and grasped her ankles with the other and lifted. Cindi squealed with surprise, as I pulled her ankles off the ground, and up to where they were next to her wrists, tying them off, leaving her swaying and twisting, gently, bent double, suspended from the branch.

With my usual finesse, and infinite patience, I began caressing and fondling her, working her quickly, to a fever pitch. She was humping her hips in the air, whimpering and begging me to touch her 'there’. But, I wasn’t going for it. I teased and tormented for an hour, before I finally knelt. Her exposed, seething pussy, pouting from between her legs, right in front of my face, available to what ever my deranged mind could come up with. I licked, I kissed, I nibbled, I smacked her lightly, open handed, and then, started all over again, until her 'honey’ dribbled down the crack of her ass and dripped to the ground beneath her. I kept her right on the ragged edge, until her thrashing and gyrating threatened to break the branch. I smacked her gushing pussy, several times, in rapid succession, my hand 'splatting’ wetly against her red swollen lips, then stood and, grasping her by the hips and placed the head of my cock up to her inviting, exposed opening. I had only, to take one step forward to impale her. I released my hold and thrust my hips at her, (look ma, no hands!) which caused her to 'bounce away’, and then she would swing back to me, sliding along my shaft. I slammed her, mercilessly, knocking the breath out of her each time our hips collided. Her head hung back, her hair hung down, swaying to the rhythm of our fierce coupling. Cindi exploded with an orgasm that coated the front of me and I, in turn, erupted into her, again gripping her, tightly by the thighs, holding myself buried, as deep inside her as humanly possible, until the spasms began to subside. I held her there, as the aftershocks rumbled thru the both of us making my legs tremble, and causing Cindi to quiver and moan. I finally withdrew myself, staggering back a few steps, then reached up and untied her ankles, lowering them, gently to the ground. Cindi hung limp, from her wrists, her chest heaving for air, freed from the constricting position. I clasped her around the waist and untied the knot that was all that was holding her up, scooped her up in my arms and carried her into the cool water, sitting in the shallows, I removed the gag and laid back, laying her beside me. She snuggled to my chest, contently.

The pond is only about four feet deep under the falls, so when Cindi sat up, I slid out into the deep end and sat on a rock under the falls, letting the water cascade over me. It felt great! But it didn’t take long for it to chill you either. Cindi sat where she was, watching me.

"Now you really do look like Tarzan, except naked," she giggled. Ok, I couldn’t resist, I stood up, beat on my chest and did my best jungle yell, and proceeded to break out in a fit of coughing, damn cigarettes! "You better come out, before you shrivel away." She chuckled some more.

"For that remark, you can spend the night tied to a stake, outside the tent!" I told her as I swam back.

"Oh no! Not that!" She got up and tried to hop away, laughing and squealing with delight. I thrashed out of the water and caught her before she reached the tent. She shivered in my arms as I squeezed her tightly to me, part chill and part exhilaration. "Please sir, I’ll do anything you ask." She begged and pleaded, totally’ ham-ing’ it up. "Please don’t, don’t stake me outside, all alone! Take me with you, please, please, I’ll do anything, ANYTHING!" Here came that sexy, seductive smile of hers, as she peered up into my eyes. She could melt steel with that look.

"And so you shall, wench! So you shall." I picked her up and sat her to her knees on the blanket. Then grabbed a handful of hair and wrenched her head back, stuffing my cock into her mouth before she could utter another sound. With her bound hands, she grabbed me by the thigh and held on as I began to face-fuck her. I stood still and pumped her head onto my cock, roughly. Swelling quickly, I gagged her a couple of times before she could accommodate me, but wouldn’t let up, until I had totally ravaged her mouth and came deep in her throat. She couldn’t swallow fast enough to keep up, and some of my cum dribbled from the corners of her mouth and down her chin.

Before she could recover from that, I tossed her onto her stomach and straddled her, grabbing her wrists, untying them and wrenching them behind her back, to tie them again. Then, of course, I tied her elbows, spun around and tied her at the knees, and finally pulled her into a tight hog tie, and tied it off. "Yea!" I yelled, throwing my arms up, in victory. "Ladies and gentlemen, a new world record in the hog tying event!" I stood and bowed to the crowd, and received the applause and cheers.  I had to root-around in the duffle bag, to find the towels, which I wrapped around my waist and dried Cindi off with the other. "One word, just one...... and back in goes the gag." I threatened, as I scrubbed her down. I knew she was dying to comment on my 'rodeo performance’, but I didn’t give her the chance.

I finished drying off and got dressed, then built a fire. As I lit the kindling, she lay where I put her, her head to the side, watching me, much amused. As the fire quickly grew, I added larger sticks, then a little larger again, forming a tee-pee of sticks. Yes, just like they taught you to do in boy scouts! But I doubt they practiced they’re knot tying and rope-craft like I did now!

I smiled back at the bound beauty, lying just a few feet away from me, and the mental picture that thought created. Instead, I gave out a loud Neanderthal grunt, a class act of mine that always left her laughing. "AUGH, AUGH,AUGGHHH...  FIRE GOOD! NAKED WOMAN GOOD!"

Cindi had to bury her face in the blanket and bite down on it, to keep from laughing aloud. I hunched up my shoulders, my arms wide at my sides, stooped over with my 'ape walk’, and amble over to her. I began poking her in the ribs, just daring her to laugh, she’s very ticklish. I poked and prodding at her. "AUGH... WOMAN GOOD, NAKED GOOD!" I sniffed loudly, smelling the scent of her. "AUGH... AUGH... NAKED WOMAN SMELL GOOD! AUGH, ME EAT NAKED WOMAN!" And I pounced on her, tickling her, mercilessly, at the ribs and hips. Cindi could take no more, she shrieked out loud, and began rolling and thrashing to get away. Of course, hog tied, as she was, she got nowhere. Screaming and laughing, to the point of breathlessness, I tickled her endlessly.

"Please, no!" she screamed. "No. Stop, stop it!" Grunting and hopping around her as she tried to dodge, this way and that, I finally stopped when she could no longer catch her breath.

"Uh, I think I heard a sound, I told you no sound, and I defiantly, heard a sound!" I picked up the gag, rinsed it off and stuffed it into her gasping mouth. I rolled her onto her side and held her there by the hog tie, as I lay next to her and began to assault her again. This time with my tongue, teeth and lips. I had her breathless again in no time, and reduced her to a seething, bubbling cauldron of lust, by the time the fire had died down to a nice bed of coals.

This little canyon only gets direct sunshine for about four hours, and then it cools off, quickly. Which is why I start a fire early in the afternoon, so that it’s ready to cook on by early evening, also giving off heat and light. She lay there, grinding her hips together, mewing and cooing at me to come and finish what I’d started. I just smiled a Cheshire smile.

I had decided that this weekend would be the perfect time to pop the 'question’, that I had been thinking about for the past several months. I had already bought the engagement rings several weeks ago. Yes, I said rings, plural. Four, all together, one for each nipple, one for her clitoris hood, all three were matching gold, thin diameter, and five eighths of an inch, across. And one gold engagement ring for her finger. A friend of mine, does tattooing and piercing, and has all the stuff to do it with, and he said he’d be more than happy to do Cindi’s piercings for me, but I told him 'no thanks, that it was to be for a special occasion and I wanted to be the one to set her piercings’. He said, ok, and told me everything I would need to do, and lent me his extra set of tools. In my mind, we would have a double ceremony, one, private, with her bound, and accepting the first three rings. And one, public, letting her pick out her wedding ring, and with the friends and family in a church.

Now, all I had to do was ask her. All she had to say was, yes, of course. But all that was to be the big 'climax’ to the weekend, for now, I had some more devious and dastardly plans for her. Now let me begin with the fact that I am a white man, but don’t believe in making a fire so big, it can be seen by the space shuttle. I’m a firm believer in the old Indian adage that you make a small fire and sit close! My fire pit was about two feet across, plenty big enough for cooking, with a good bed of coals, and for light and warmth, when fuel was added to it. So what I was about to do to Cindi wouldn’t be unnecessarily dangerous, but would surely test her trust in me!

I ran the cable from the winch, on my truck, up into the tree, and back down to where Cindi lay. Then took a stout length of utility rope from the tool box, tied it off to the hook of the cable, and ran it thru the branch of an opposing tree on the other side of the clearing, then back to the bumper of the truck. The hook was now suspended, about ten feet, directly above, where Cindi lay. I tied a waist and crotch rope to her, and, with the remote control for the winch, played out the cable, until the hook was a foot above her. I 'hooked’ the hook thru the hog tie and attached it to the crotch rope, and took her hair and wound it around the rope that bound her elbows together. When I wound the cable back in, it began to lift her up in a severe backward arch.

She hung, suspended, from her wrists, ankles and crotch rope. As I wound in the cable, I played out the utility rope, it allowed me to move her sideways, and directly over the fire pit. She hung there, about six feet above the embers, until I played out more of the rope, which would lower her. Now Cindi had been watching me rig this thing up with a great interest. She knew it would have something to do with her, but what, she could only guess.

When I hoisted her up, she groaned at the strain of it. The crotch rope dug into her brutally, and the rest of her weight hung from her bound wrists and ankles. Now as I’ve said before, Cindi is very flexible and very strong willed, so I knew she would be able to handle the suspension, but as I began to maneuver her over the fire pit, she freaked, to say the least!

"Trust me, baby. I won’t let anything bad happen." I told her. She heard me, as she dangled and twisted in the air, and stopped her frantic struggles, but I could see the raw fear in her eyes as she kept looking from me, to the fire, and back again. Now remember, this is a small fire pit with only hot coals in it, no flame, so hanging six feet above it she couldn’t even feel the heat yet. But as I slowly lowered her closer... I knew that you could get within eighteen inches of the fire to feel the heat, so I stopped her about three feet above the fire and tied the rope off to the bumper.

I walked over to her, standing close and nonchalantly ran my hand along the skin of her stretched abdomen, feeling the heat. Not too hot but plenty warm enough, especially if she stayed there for some time. I continued to stroke her and pet her, as she continued to moan and wail, piteously.

"You’re alright, you can handle this. You can do this." I consoled, and encouraged her. "You can do this for me. I won’t let you fall." She pleaded to me with her eyes, and I almost broke. Instead, I went back and lowered her another foot. I went back to her and began to fondle her some more. I stroked, licked, kissed and nibbled at every erogenous zone she had, and then did it again, and again, until she finally began to respond. The endorphins and the adrenalin and the hormones, were all battling within her to control the brain, but none of them was strong enough to force the panic to the surface, and it didn’t take long for this 'cocktail’ to boil over.

Sweat was pouring off of her and dripping, with a hiss, into the fire. Her body, glowing, reflecting the orange light of the fire, Cindi had closed her eyes now and craned her head back to avoid the heat on her face, twisting from side to side, but her body could only hang there and take it, the heat and my relentless sensual assault. Her fear and her passions kept mixing and blending, building and multiplying, swirling and bubbling together within her, until she exploded. Her body snapped taunt with such a jolt, that it sent a shower of sweat beads raining down onto the fire. An enormous HISSS, and a small puff of steam rose up from it. Her orgasm poured from between her clenched thighs like an open faucet, nearly extinguishing the fire, altogether. Her hips humping, bumping, madly up and down on the crotch rope, her whole body quivered and shook like she was being electrocuted, the clenched cheeks of her ass, and her tautly stretched breasts, shimmied with the vibrations. Cindi convulsed with this orgasm for almost, ten minutes, straight! Finally, she slumped, hanging limp, in her bonds, passed out cold! It didn’t scare me as much this time, because I knew.... could tell that she was on this one-way track, and it could only end this way. I did however, quickly and carefully, maneuver her back onto the blanket, and removed all the rope and the gag.

I wrapped the blanket around her and got a towel wet in the stream, to wipe her face, and the hair back, that was stuck to her face. She didn’t seem to be in any kind of distress; in fact, she had a calm and peaceful look about her, so I let her lay, quiet and warm in the blanket, and waited. She finally began to stir, about an hour later. I set the food to one side and went to her. I cradled her into my arms and brought the canteen to her lips. I knew she’d be dehydrated, with all the fluids she lost.

"How do you feel?" I quietly asked her. She chugged half the canteen, before she came up for air.

"I have never been so scared, in all my life!" She gasped, and drank some more. "How do you do that?"

"Do what?"

"Make me do things like that. Things I could, or would never do otherwise, but I’ll do for you?"

"You have your 'safe word’". I told her. "I don’t make you 'do’ anything that you don’t trust me to do." I stroked her hair. "Without the trust, none of this could happen."

"I almost gave it, too, the safety word." She confessed. "I was that close." She held up a single strand of her hair, from her shoulder.

"And why didn’t you?" I had to ask.

"Because I do trust you." She looked up, her eyes brimming with tears. "And I knew that, that was stronger than my fear, stronger than anything else." She sighed. "I love you, so much!"

"I love you too, baby. I love you too." I cuddled her tighter and, gently rocked her. Well cowboy, it’s now or never!

"Sit up for a minute. I need to get something." I propped her up and went to the truck. When I came back, she was sitting on her knees, the blanket wrapped tightly around her. I sat back down, in front of her and held out two, small, velvet covered jewelry boxes. I offered her the box with the three rings in it. She took it, opened it and gasped. The three gold rings glinting at her, reflecting the fire light.

"Will you marry me?" I asked and handed her the second box. A slight look of confusion quickly crossed her face. I wasn’t sure if she knew what the three rings were for, or where they went. But, I knew she had seen pictures of pierced women in the magazines, I just wasn’t sure if it was registering or not. And now, I was offering a second box to her. She sat the first one on her lap, took the second, and opened it. A quick sob, her hand covering her mouth, trying to stifle them back. The tears began to flow freely now. "I want you to know how much I love you. How much you mean to me. Marry me?" I asked her, once again.

She held both open boxes, one in each hand. "Ohhh.... Yes." She softly cried. "Yes, I’ll marry you. I love you too!" She lunged forward, wrapping her arms around my neck and knocking me/us over. She smothered me with tender kisses, murmuring, over and over again,"Yes, yes, yes," breathlessly.

I took her gently, but firmly by her head and kissed her back. We made love for the rest of the day and into the night. The dinner I had been cooking, burned to the pan. I ended up throwing that pan away, it wouldn’t come clean. When the sun finally crept over the edge of the canyon, it was mid-morning, when I crawled out of the tent. I stoked up the lingering embers and set a pot of water to heat, and was digging thru the cooler for something for breakfast. Cindi drug herself out, as I was sitting on a rock, the pan of hot water next to me, brushing my teeth, washing up, the morning ritual. She staggered, directly into the pool and submerged herself. She came up, with a howl, spewing water and shook herself, her hair draped over he, like a shining brown second skin. She strode back to where I was sitting.

"Very exhilarating!" She declared, as she pulled her hair to one side, squeezing the water out of it over my back.

"Hey!" I toppled over, backward, kicking over the pan. "Must I keep you bound all the time?"

She stood there, laughing, hands on her hips, defiantly, water droplets glistening on her tan skin. "Looks that way, doesn’t it."

"That’s it!" I said, throwing my arms up. "Woman, go find me something to beat you with!" She leaned over me and grasped my face, squeezing my cheeks.

"Stick out your tongue." She commanded. I did.

"There, beat me with that." She giggled, shaking her head and raining water over me again, then turned and grabbed the towel from where it hung on a branch, wrapping it around her head. She refilled the pan and set it back on the fire, then ducked back into the tent and came out with the hand cuffs and put them on, then went thru her morning routine. I watched her move, gracefully about, naked, uninhibited, beautiful. She knelt, now, at the edge of the pond, contently brushing out her hair.

I returned to the fire and cooked us some breakfast. When I turned around, Cindi was standing there with the three matching rings in her hand, the engagement ring, now on her finger. "Are these, what I think they are?" She asked.

"If you think they’re earrings, than, no." I teased. Cindi did have pierced ears. She gave me one of her exasperated stares.

"I think I can figure out where two of them go, I’ve thought about getting my nipples pierced for a long time, but was too chicken to do it, but where did you plan on putting the third?"

"The third ring would go thru the skin right above your button." I told her, fidgeting nervously.

"Oh really! Mmmm." Her hand slid over her belly and she touched herself. "They say that erotic piercings, greatly increase the sensitivity of the area, and I’m very sensitive already. This would be maddening, what if I went insane or something? Walking around touching myself all the time, one orgasm after another, a nymphomaniac!"

"And you see this as a problem... why?" I egged her on.

"Be serious, I’m hot for you 24/7, as it is now..."

"And this, 'old man’ is immensely flattered." I said, being twenty years her senior. "Don’t let this calm, cool and casual demeanor fool you. Remember, I just asked you to spend the rest of your life with me, I’m addicted to you."

"And I said 'yes’, didn’t I? With all that we’ve done in the past few months, and last night, don’t think you going to scare me off with this." She leaned down, cupping my face, and kissed me. I sat, she knelt, and we ate. "Who did you have in mind to do the piercing?" She asked, nervously.

"Well, I have a friend that does this sort of thing for a living, tattooing and piercing, and he said he would gladly do it for us." I let her hang for a couple of seconds, barely concealing the grin. "But I told him that I wanted to do it, myself, and he gave me the proper tools to do it right. I know how shy you are around strangers, but can’t for the life of me, understand why. You are a beautiful girl, with a beautiful body, there’s absolutely nothing for you to be embarrassed about."

"Yea, well, that’s just a minor hang-up of mine, although it’s been getting better, don’t you agree? It’s not easy for me to be 'paraded’ around naked, and tied up, but I’ve done it."

"Yes, you have, and I’m very proud of you too!" I praised her.  "Like I said, you’ve got nothing to be embarrassed about. But, at the same time, I will respect your limit with it, but I won’t stop nudging and pushing you, either." Breakfast was finished, and we knelt together, by the stream, washing up the dishes. "I wanted to do this, myself, because it’s a very intimate and personal thing that I wanted to share with you."

"You know, I don’t think I’ve ever realized it before," she said, "but you’re a hopeless romantic, in a very kinky sort of way." She smiled, warmly.

"If you ever tell a soul, I’ll deny it, every word." I stomped away, feigning indignation. Cindi just giggled, not buying any of it. "We’ll go into town this week so you can pick out the wedding rings, and start doing the 'stuff’, whatever it is, that brides do to plan a wedding."

"Oh no! You’re not going to flake out and dump all of this on me, mister... ah, excuse me, SIR, but this is OUR wedding, and we do it together!" She protested.

"Sorry, I didn’t mean to sound like I was dumping it all on you, but I picked out the engagement rings, so I wanted you to pick out the wedding bands." I went back and put my arms around her, my hands quickly, began to stroke, up and down, her back. She leaned back, just enough to bring her arms up and over my head, then snuggled to me again.

"Mmmm, I love you." She   purred. We still had the rest of the weekend to go, and I kept her bound to anything, and everything I could find. I rigged up a 'wooden pony’ between the tree and the bumper of the truck, for her to perch on. I tied her over a rock, and slathered her with sunscreen, and let her 'bake’, while I 'whipped her’ into a frenzy, with my tongue and lips. She hung from the tree, again. I staked her out, spread eagle, on the sand and trickled the icy cold water from the cooler over her, lots of screaming with that one. I bound her, bent over the tail-gate of the truck. We had a gloriously kinky weekend, and the rest of our lives!

THE END