Dummy Part 2

Dummy Part 1

Bruce trail - Part 4

There is a line of dialogue in the Russian film , The Stalker, directed by Andre’ Tarkovsky, which the main character - the Stalker- says, “The Zone wants to be respected. Otherwise it will punish. “

The Zone...yes, The Zone. And, I was right there in it.

Flicking my Gerber knife open, I cut the rope which bound her ankles to her wrists. After un-tying her ankles, I pulled her from the back seat. As soon as she felt solid ground, she charged at me, even though she still had the hood over her head.

I shoved her against the El Dorado.

My hands around her throat, I whispered “Don’t think I won’t hurt you. Don’t think I’m not capable of bad things. Don’t think about an out. Let that all go. Why? Because I’ve got you, baby. “

Her breathing was rapid and short. Mine was slow and steady. I kicked her ankles out, so that she stood now with her legs spread wide with her back up against the car.

The tension of my fingers pressed tight around her throat -slowly released. She began to relax her breathing. I could not tell what her expression was, because of the hood, but I knew she shifting inside her mind. She was waiting... wondering.

I laid one hand against her chest, feeling her heartbeat. I could sense fear inside her. And, I wanted a little more.

The edge of knife is probably one sensation that is not hard to recognize. Especially, if the edge is run up along the inside of the thigh.

Her heartbeat kicked up to triple time and stayed there even when the blade stopped just at the top her inner thigh and just below her black silk panties. I pressed the flat part of the blade against her skin. Then, I moved the steel slowly into position.

With two very quick flicks of my wrist, the blade had done it’s job - the black silk was in my pocket to be used later on.

The ankle rope,once used to bind, now was around her neck as a make shift leash.

I wrapped a few inches of it around my fist, pulling her towards me.

“Come.” I said, flatly.

The entrance - the trail head - to the Bruce Trail was marked with a worn, weathered sign. I lead her past the marker, through the brush and eventually into a clearing that revealed a path which was lined on either side with Maple trees.

I stopped short. She didn’t and ran into me. This startled her, which I wanted. The sunlight was fading and I had to quicken the pace to get there -the destination - before the available light began to seriously deteriorate.

I started forward. She resisted. The more force I used, the more she used her legs to counter. I could hear her gasping for air and a part of me wanted to release the tension. But I did not, knowing that this was what she wanted.

I jerked her down to her knees. She shuffled, still fighting against the rope. I could just make out that she was whimpering. I took her underneath her armpits and lifted her up on to her feet.

“Fight, cry....I don’t care. It won’t help. “ I said in a loud voice. I wanted her to know that she was no where. And, that there was no one who could possibly be around to save her.

About a hundred yards down, the path took a turn to the left. We went right and into the tree line. Each time a branch brushed up against her, she forced a scream out through the ball gag and hood.

Shortly, we were through the tree line. I’m certain she was totally confused as we walked up a slight incline, and then onto a mixture of gravel and small rock.

We both were a little out of breath, she more than I. I turned to survey the area for a moment, then made my move.

It took only a few seconds.

I took the hood off. She found herself kneeling low on the ground. The rope, still around her neck, was tied off-forcing her cheek against the flat, cold surface of a steel rail.

I watched her look to her left and then to her right. Real confusion set in when she realized that she was bound to the tracks of a remote railroad line that cut through the Bruce trail.

I stood over her, taking it all in. Her tightly bound arms and wrists behind her. Her gorgeous, exposed ass in the air. Legs quivering. High heels scuffed. And, of course, her neck tied to the rail.

I leaned down and removed the ball gag from her mouth. Saliva dropped down upon the railroad track, railroad ties and gravel.

“Please. Please. “ she whispered. I stood up and removed my belt from my jeans.

“One last thing before I fuck you.” I spoke out to the tracks itself.

I’m sure something heard her cry out the three times. I did hear birds flutter from the trees.

There were three red marks across her luscious ass. I saw them. I almost did not realize I had made them.

I was right on the edge.

Shoving he panties in her mouth, I secured the material with rope. I didn’t need to gag her. But, I had to.

Then....

I fucked her. I fucked her with such intensity, such will....such need. I drove deep into her. My hands grasping her ass so hard, I know I bruised her.

At first , she was only trying to keep on her knees. Then, I could feel her take me on. She was fucking me back.

I grabbed her hair so I could drive deeper and harder. This made her fuck me harder. Her thighs tightened against mine. Her strong inner muscles took my cock and clamped down. There was an incredible heat - a fire.

Then, she got it.

A different kind of scream rose out from the tracks. It was same as was heard from her a month ago. I wanted to cum so badly. But, I had just enough control not to. She had wanted me to save it for her thing.

Doing that required all the self control I had. Don’t ask what I thought of to achieve this incredible feat. Just know that I will never think of the poster of that stupid cat hanging from the limb of tree in the same manner.

That, and burlap.

to be continued....

Bruce Trail - Part 3

Around this time of the year, the sunlight is at ‘golden hour’ about 5.3Op. I had turned off the main highway onto a two lane, black top. The shadows were long . The ball of the sun lay low - just a few degrees above the horizon.

The countryside was beautiful, as I passed field and farmhouse. So much so, that I almost left the ‘play’. But, not quite.

She was in shadow. I could hear her, though....her struggles, her continuous fight to free herself. God, how I loved that she was still so ‘in it’. Just thinking of her back there - hogtied, ball gagged, her panties soaked - made my cock rage.

Gripping the wheel with my right hand, I pushed, pulled and stroked with my left. I had to laugh thinking of an old joke about a computer keyboard with the T,R,D,and S keys all stuck because they were covered in...

The dirt road to ‘the clearing’ came up quickly. A little too quickly and I was forced to I slam down on the brakes. In the rear view, I saw her bounce against the back seat.

“Ummmpph”, I heard her expel out. I grinned.

‘Careful, brother. Don’t fuck around and bust the play.’, I told myself. But, she was still hooded. She had no clue what was happening, or where we were going. The fear, I supposed, was still in her mind.

I cranked the wheel. The big car shifted and slid sideways. Dust from the wheels on the dirt road, filtered in through the open window.

About a hundred down the dirt road, I turned into the Spot. I had scouted it out a month back. She and I had taken a drive out to the country. She wanted me to see how beautiful it was out there. It was. But, all the time I was thinking... plotting, taking mental notes, creating the play...as it were.

It was not far from the Spot where the big car sat, that we-back a month ago- fucked. We were talking and watching the scenery pass by. Suddenly, she just said, “Now. Right here. “ Within a minute of getting the car pulled over to the side of the road, she was fucking me.

Frankly, I had nothing to do with it. She was now in the driver’s seat and I was along for the ride. God, that woman could scream when she hit her stride - rabbits were on the run, cows startled, sheep shedding wool. Yeah, she could give out that sort of orgasm scream.

But, now, it was my turn.

I threw the car in ‘park’. I turned around to see her. Bound and beautiful as she was, all I wanted to do is look at her for a moment. I could hear her whimper. That was sounded I needed to hear from her. My nostrils flared, my blood heated, and I focused.

I focused on what was to be. What I had planned. What I had to do. What I Had to do.

Bruce Trail - part 2

I hesitated and, looking back on it, I still don’t know why. A brief moment...from the time the second hand passed by the thirty mark and before the thirty five mark. I hesitated perhaps because I caught her reflection in the rear view mirror looking back me.

What she saw was face covered by a black mask, a black strip cloth stretched out, arms covered by a dark sweatshirt, and....me, her lover.

What I saw was her expression....changing rapidly. At first, recognition. Then, decision. And, finally...fear.

It was then-at fear- that I struck.

My hands knew exactly what to do. No more than a few seconds past before the black strip was wrapped around her neck and tied to the back of the head rest.

She yelped.

I leaned into her right ear, whispering instructions to drive. She moaned, softly, put the car i gear and steered the car out of the parking lot.

Yes, people could have seen all this. Yes, someone....a good samaritan could have called the police. Yes, there could have been a lot of explaining to do.

But, none of that happened.

A few turns to the left and a turn to the right, the El Dorado sat half way down a long alley between two older brick buildings-- the motor still running and the parking lights on.

My left eye had, by now, was swollen a little from being hit by her elbow. Deep red scratch marks ran the length of right forearm. My thighs would show the bruises, from her kicking me with her stiletto heels, for weeks to come.

And, I felt the taste of blood in my mouth.

She hadn’t made it easy for me. Not by a long shot. She told me she was going to put a fight. That...she did.

She was face down on the black leather, back seat. The sleeves of her business suit coat were bunched up from the white rope wrapped tightly around her elbows -which touched from the constriction.

I had just finished pulling her tied ankles up to finish off a hogtie, when the trash truck rumbled by. Instinctively, I covered her body with mine. The truck stopped a few yards ahead, a sound of hydraulics drowned out all other noise, other than the heavy thudding of metal on metal and the metal on pavement.

Following that last routine, gears shifted and off went the truck.

Up on my knees, again, I pulled her head up from the backseat. I could see a pool of her saliva left where her mouth, stuffed and silenced by a ball gag, had been.

“That could have been bad for both us.” I hissed in a low tone. She stared up at me. My focus shifted from her beautiful, pleading eyes to her mouth. Full lips wrapped around the ball gag. Her teeth biting down upon the rubber. The leather strap pressed tight against her flushed cheek.

Her eyes darted back towards her hips. I followed her gaze down my left arm. I expected to see my hand at the end, but did not.

My whole hand was buried between her ass cheeks. From the wetness on my index finger and middle finger, I came to the conclusion that I had, un-consciously buried my fingers and was masturbating her.

Without stopping, I whipped out a silk hood and pulled it over her head. This caused her to buck and fight...once again. I heard her muffled cries which only my fingers to stroke deeper and faster.

With care, I placed both of my legs in either side of her hogtied body. In this position -above her- I leaned over her hands and ground my crotch into her fingers.

All the while, my two fingers continued,until....Until I heard from behind me her un-mistakable cry and gasp. She had cum.

“Beautiful.” , I said as I watched her heels kick, and her legs shiver.

In the driver seat, I adjusted the rear view mirror in order to watch her struggle. I wanted -no-I needed to see her struggle. Huge turn on for me.

And, she did the entire time we where on the move...once again.

to be continued...

Bruce trail part 1

She knew the exact day, But, I knew the exact time.

The daylight hours were longer, now. Much longer than when we first talked over the phone about the play. I had composed three scenes for her. She chose the first, as I hoped that she would, which thrilled me knowing that this was going to be the most intense of the three.

I had arrived early in the afternoon. My cab from the airport took me to the rental office in less than a half hour. There were no surprises - the black 1976 El Dorado was ready. I walked around it - approaching it as one conspirator to another.

The window of opportunity was from 3p. to 7p. I decided it was going down in the daylight. A greater degree of danger of being seen, or being caught.

She was expecting evening or night. No, that’s not true. it was going down after sundown. In fact, she told me that directly. But, I’m a brat. So...

I reached downtown before rush hour, pulled the El Dorado into the parking spot that had been agreed upon. At the security desk, inside her office building, I dropped off the keys to my co-conspirator and gave instructions to the guard to notifly her that the keys had arrived.

Once she received the message from the guard, she would immediately look out the window, take in that it was still daylight, cream a little perhaps, make the excuse to her staff, and rush out.

I had to move fast. The car was a two door with the huge back seat. I nestled down behind the driver’s seat, checked my bondage bag....and waited.

Ten minutes passed, then five more. I got a little edgy. Hey, I was on fire, too. Then I heard the ‘clicking of high heels’. Nothing like it the world. That singular sound sends me off and was that sound that made the switch for me. I was now the stranger, the captor....Him.

Her pace quickened as she near the car, but then...stopped. Seconds passed. Was she going to bail? I almost raised my head up which would have busted the whole play. However, I thought better of it and was glad I did when I heard the ‘clicking’ start again.

I saw her through the back driver’s seat window. I grinned, watching her fumble with the keys as she tried to un-lock the door.

The big, heavy black door swung open, letting in such a volume of sun light that I winced, forcing my eyes to re-adjust to the change of exposure.

She settled into the driver’s seat and slid the key into the ignition. It was quiet in the car. I could hear her breathing. And, quite possibly, she could hear mine. In the dashboard of the car there was one of those old style clocks. I could hear it's second hand tick out each second.

My fingers, covered by leather gloves, gripped each end of a black strip of cloth that I would use to restrain her. I held the cloth in the same manner as strangler would. My whole body was still and tense...waiting for her next move.

She fired up the big V8 engine. The cylinders stroked into action.

So did I.

To be continued...