The Bar and the Brank

by Peter Loaf


When He first pulled it out of the cupboard, i thought it was something that only looked scary.  i thought it would turn out to be some kind of kitchen contraption, or something.  Like that wonderful scene in Raiders In Search of the Lost Ark where the Nazi spends a few seconds assembling a folding coat hanger that you think is some kind of diabolical torture device.

But when He closed and locked the brank around my throat i could no longer fool myself.  It was what it looked like it was.  It was an iron cage locked tight around my head, a portable prison that would hold me until He decided to take it off.

The worst part about it, i thought, after a few seconds taking stock, is this huge rubber gag ball this thing holds in my mouth.

Of course by that time i was helpless to stop Him from doing anything He wanted to my body.  By that time i was stretched in a standing spread eagle.  my wrists were locked to opposite ends of a steel bar that was hanging above my head and my feet were chained down to two widely spread rings in the floor.

i'd known i was going to be helpless.  i'd flown in from the coast with that very goal in mind.  The Man on the Mountain is famous for His bondage.  The buzz on the internet about Him never stops.  He's the Master every subbie wants to visit, there on his Montana mountaintop.

He has three rules:
One; on His mountain, His word is God's Law.
Two; no woman ever goes down His mountain unsatisfied.
Three; no woman ever comes up His mountain twice, no matter how much she might beg.

Before He would let me come to Montana He insisted on chatting with me on line for several weeks, first in a public chat room, then one on one, getting to know me and, more importantly, getting to know what i wanted from Him.

Finally, He said i could come.  i took two weeks vacation from my job, gave myself a fresh pussy waxing and got on the next plane for Butte.

From the high mountain airport I took a cab straight to the little roadhouse where we were to meet.  Judging from the knowing glances i was getting from the cabbie i realized i was not the first young subbie to make this trip.  i guess the dead giveaway is the fact that i came out of the terminal sans luggage.  That instead of going to a motel or a house, i asked to go to the roadhouse about ten miles West of the city.

Being a couple of hours early, I ordered a half bottle of Harvey's and the brook trout.

i was watching Leno on the TV over the bar when He walked in the door.  When i first saw him i knew He was going to be everything the other subbies had said He was.  He just exudes this intense aura of Mastery that makes the thought of rebelling simply impossible.

i was prepared for that, the girls in the chat room had told me what to expect.  But what happened when i followed him out to His truck caught me completely off guard.  Instead of opening the door to the passenger side of his four wheel drive pickup, He opened the tailgate and, without showing the least emotion, ordered me to strip naked and climb in.

i started to protest but thought better of it when i saw the fire in His eyes.  i looked around the empty parking lot, then back at His eyes.  Quickly, i stripped out of my boots, jeans, Western shirt, bra and panties.  There was a tarp stretched over the bed of the truck and i crawled in under it, aware of the view He was getting of my ass as i did so.

Before He put the tailgate up He had me turn around under the canvas and hold my hands out where he could see them.  i did so.  Without the least fumbling, He locked my wrists to opposite ends of a three foot steel bar which in turn He closely attached to the bed of the truck with a double ended snap hook.

He then smiled like a tiger and closed the tailgate, leaving me alone and helpless in the dark.

Let me tell you, it's not a fun way to travel.  But at that point what choices did i have?  my clothes were up in the cab with Him.  i was naked cargo, helpless to do anything for myself, save the one thing i wouldn't dare do, scream for help.

Soon we were climbing His mountain and the time for screaming was long past.  i was lying flat with my tummy on the cold steel of the truck bed.  The bar between my wrists held my hands wide and was closely snubbed down.  my hands were lost to me, unable to reach any part of my suddenly sweating and needful body.  i could only bounce and rattle around, the rutted, washboard gravel road winding up the mountain making me feel like a calf on the way to the butcher.  i could only lie there and feel how it was affecting my libido, how horny it was making me.

The drive seemed like it took hours.  Hours i spent anticipating what He would do to and for me once He had me up on his mountain.  It was kind of good i couldn't reach my body, it would have wasted my strength to masturbate.  i was going to need all my strength, He had promised that when He agreed to let me come.

He keeps his promises, all the subbies say that.

Finally, the truck stopped and the motor shut off.  Impatiently, i waited for Him to come and open the tailgate but instead i heard his footsteps walking away, first on gravel then on wooden steps.  i heard a screen door squeak and then slam.  i heard nothing more, except an owl hooting somewhere nearby.  Having little choice, i stayed there, so horny i was about to start dry humping and completely impotent to do anything about anything.  i would have called out, but was afraid to anger Him.

i was exhausted from the trip.  my shoulder muscles were on fire from the constant strain of holding my head up so my face wouldn't be pounded against the truck bed.  Now, with the truck finally stopped, i let my head rest, for a moment.

* * *

Suddenly the tailgate opened and i realized i must have fallen asleep.  Behind Him it was broad daylight.  He reached in, released the bar from the truck bed and used His grip on it to drag me out of the truck.  Again, i felt like a calf bound for slaughter.  Again i felt the fear tightening my nipples, making my vulva throb, my clit ache for His touch.

He got me out and onto my feet.  i stood before Him, naked and helpless in His irons, on His mountain, in His door yard.  i had come a long way, yet i suspected i would be going much further before we were done.

"Turn around." He ordered, having looked me over, top to bottom.

i obeyed, turning my back to Him, my arm bar held across my lower tummy.

"Sit up here on the tailgate a moment."  He said, lifting me up with His strong hands around my waist.  He replaced my cowgirl boots onto my feet, then locked a disconnected pair of ankle shanks around the tooled leather.

"Bend over and hook your boot heels on the bar between your hands." was His next order, and,  "Spread your feet as wide as possible and try to lock your knees." the one after that.

i was glad i was in shape, otherwise, this last would have been impossible.  He came and attached the ankle shanks to the ends of the spreader bar, using double ended snaphooks.  i was trapped, my hands and feet attached to the same bar, my body folded almost flat.

He lifted me down and balanced me on my feet and hands, steadying me until i got my precarious balance then deserting me to the terror of falling.

i felt His fingers come and pinch one of my swollen labia, sending a thrill straight to my hind brain, where my libido lives.  i moaned and swayed, nearly falling over onto my face in the gravel driveway.

He chuckled, leaving me balanced like that for a moment as He grabbed a white plastic lawn chair off of His front porch, sat in it behind me and slid two grease coated fingers into my vagina, reaching for and finding my g spot.

Suddenly i was gripping on His fingers, needing their help to keep from falling.

He steadied me with a hand on my buttock and continued the g spot massage, making me know my suddenly desperate need to pee.

i gripped on His fingers, His slowly pumping and wiggling fingers, His knowing, educated fingers . . . until i began to spasm, not in orgasm yet, but in pure muscle exhaustion.  i knew that standing like this for one more minute was impossible.

With every wiggle of His fingers He was forcing hot spurts of urine out of me but did not seem to care.  The fingers stayed, my passion spiked, my slave state came flowing down out of my hindbrain, shutting down my higher brain functions, rendering me His slave girl, His property, His pussy.

my bladder emptied itself, splattering the gravel between my spread feet.

i wiggled my wet butt at Him, praying for His hot organ to come and fulfill my pussy's desire.

The fingers remained, deep within me, holding me, possessing me, stimulating me.

my position was precarious, deeply bent, balanced on my hands and feet in the middle of his dooryard.  Because my weight was pushing the bar into the dirt i could not move my hands to support myself.  my only source of support was the two fingers hooked into my pussy.  The two wiggling, all knowing fingers.

i began to sweat in the August sunshine, my body suddenly beaded with fuck me pheromones.  His thumb found and began to lightly toy with my rock hard clitoris, sending jolt after jolt of pain/pleasure/excitement to the lizard brain that was running my affairs at the moment.

my left knee buckled a little but He held me up as you would hold a bowling ball, pinching both my g spot and my clitoris at the same time.  Looking back from between my legs, i could see how His nose flared at my passion scent, His big cock tenting His tight 501s.

i could not remain as i was, yet i could not escape either.  To tell the truth i would not have wanted to escape at that point.  i was too far gone, too close to what i thought i'd come here to get.

i began to beg for His cock, my breath coming in gasps, my folded body blushed to the toes, my nipples like two rosebuds, tight and dewed with passion sweat.

He chuckled, continuing with the g spot massage until i was nearly cuming then pulling me back onto His lap, impaling me on his pocket pony, filling me suddenly and completely.

The next half hour or so was nice.  Actually, it started out nice and got nicer.  It got so nice that i think i blacked out a couple of times.  i was certainly a happy little subbie, i know that much.

When again i was capable of taking stock of my condition i found myself sitting on the ranch house porch, my hands and feet still attached to the bar.  My mountain man had put me here and walked away, knowing that i was going nowhere important, fixed as i was fixed.  With my knees bent, i could move around a little, i realized, i wonder if he knows.

i heard His voice calling my name, from inside.  It was an order.  He knows!  I began butt cheeking my way toward the sound of His voice, hoping the food smells i was getting were for me.

When I got to the screen door i could see him, working at the stove, fixing, i hoped, breakfast for two.  i could smell bacon, hot apple pie and coffee.  I tried to find a way to get the screen door open but discovered it beyond my abilities.  He watched me until he was sure i couldn't do it, then walked over and opened it for me.

As i butt cheeked my way past him into the house he said. "Are you aware you are leaving a slime trail?"

i twisted my neck and looked behind me.  there was a wet smear across the newly painted porch where my freshly fucked pussy had slid.  i looked up into his eyes and said, "its your slime, Master, i would save it if i could."

He snorted, turned, and ran back to his stove, needing to save his bacon.

i continued across the carpeted floor, laying a scent trail.

Somehow, when I saw he'd covered the kitchen floor with a blue plastic tarp i knew i was in trouble.  i mean worse trouble than i'd been, with just my hands and feet locked to the ends of a three foot bar of steel.

Stirring something briskly over the heat, the mountain man nodded toward the middle of the tarp.  i waddled forward, my tummy flip-flopping.  i was not surprised to see that there was an electric chain hoist hanging down over the center of the tarp.  Taking whatever he was cooking off the heat, he tested it's warmth by dipping his finger, then tasted it.  Meeting my eyes He smiled in a way that made my pussy gulp.

"How does Apple Cobbler Surprise sound for breakfast?" He asked, kneeling next to me with the pot in hand.  He stuck in two fingers and pulled them out covered in what looked like apple pie filling.  There were flashes of pixie in His eyes, i watched as the gooey mess came toward me, again my pussy gulped.  He stuck the fingers into my mouth, smearing the warm sticky stuff on my tongue.  It was sweet, and spicy, and good.  i licked my lips, my tummy growling, wanting more.

He pulled up another plastic lawn chair, dropped his pants with his clean hand and wiped his goo covered fingers all over his own hard cock.  "Surprise!" he said, sitting on the chair and waggling his living spoon at me.

i waddled my butt closer and leaned toward his groin, my eyes locked with his.  i took the head of him between my lips, tasting both him and my breakfast.

As He leaned back and closed his eyes, i got busy, gobbling down my breakfast.  When His cock was clean i continued to suck, having discovered yet another hunger.

He pushed my head back and applied another coating of apple cobbler, feeding both of my hungers at the same time.

i felt like a baby bird, my mouth full of worm.

First i ate Him, then He ate me.  When He judged i'd had enough to eat, He got up, pushed a button on the wall that lowered the hook on His hoist, rigged a chain harness to the bar's two ends and hoisted me, kicking and screaming in panic, toward the ceiling.

When I was positioned to his liking i was at the perfect height for him to sit down and eat.  Cleaning my pussy with a soapy rag and a delightfully thorough rinsing, he then upended the pot of goo and poured it all down my front.

Hanging helpless from my chains, my body exposed to this man as i had never before been exposed, i again sank into slave state.  He had a big hunger, a couple of them.  So did i.

After breakfast, came my bath.  Releasing the ankle shackles from the bar, He let me straighten out and put my feet on the floor.  Attaching two chains to my ankles, He spread my legs wide and secured them.

The sponge bath was long, slow, thorough and wonderful.  When it was over I was wrung out, drained of lust, satisfied.

But unfortunately, He was not.

Or maybe i should say fortunately.

That was when i first saw the brank.  It was so evil looking i tried to convince myself it wasn't really what I feared it was.  He took it from the cupboard and showed it to me with pride.  "Made it myself," he said, opening it to show how the gag ball was attached to the inside of the mask.  "They used these in Salem, to keep accused witches from casting spells on their tormentors.  Open wide!"  i could not fight Him, His spread eagle chains insured that.  It was but a few seconds before my head was encased in the iron mask, my mouth stuffed, the lock clicking under my chin loud in my ears.  A short chain was attached between the top of the brank and the bar above my head, doubling my sense of being restrained.

The nipple chain was not painful, just scary, at first.  When He cinched my nubbins in the little nooses i wanted to run away, to protest, to object, i could do naught but watch, flinching as they took and held my tender flesh.  The labia weights were painful at first, then got worse as they swung under me, stretching my alligator clip pinched lips down and open.

The paddle would have knocked me flat, had i not been hung up like a side of beef.  my bottom began turning first pink, then deeper shades of red.  Between my legs, my pussy began to cream again, ready for . . . anything.  He caressed me with one hand and paddled me with the other, exactly as i'd described it to him.  Orgasm was near, very near indeed.

i took stock. it was a good beginning, i was glad i'd come.