Lightly proofed and edited by the reclusive Mike Ink.

My first camping trip with Samantha had been a wild success. As I unloaded the Jeep I thought back to those four days in the park, quite pleased with myself having pulled it off and making it so enjoyable for her. Of course, I quite enjoyed our trip as well. I left most of the camping stuff in the garage, hoping to use it again soon, and after cleaning out the cooler, starting some laundry and fixing myself a bite of supper, I sat down to eat and go through my messages. A couple were from work, asking if I could put in an appearance, one was from my buddy Mike.

“Hey Jim, where’d you go? Called a couple times now, just get this dopey machine. I’d like to get together for dinner sometime, see that pretty girl of yours again. Give me a call. Bye.”

I picked up the phone and called him, but he must have been out, or busy, and I got his machine.

“Hey Mike,” I said. “Just got back from an awesome camping trip. Call me tomorrow sometime.”

I did some more cleaning, another load of laundry, and sat down to answer some e-mail. Around ten, I called Sam. “Hi honey, did I wake you?”

“No,” she purred. “I’ve been waiting for your call.”

“How are you feeling,” I asked. “Still sore?”

“Ya, a bit. It’s these bruises on my wrists that are bothering me the most. Might be a few raised eyebrows at work tomorrow.”

“Sorry, Sam,” I said. “I shouldn’t have let it go so far yesterday.”

“Oh Jim, it’s O.K. It was great, having you tie me up to that cliff like that. Really nice.”

Samantha tied up to that tree sticking out of the rock face, her arms stretched high over her head, sunlight gleaming off her bracelets. That lovely vision would be etched in my mind forever. “I’ve got a blouse,” she told me, “with sleeves that are a little too long. Should cover things up enough so people don’t ask too many questions.”

“You’re great, Sam,” I said.

“You’re wonderful too, Jim,” she answered softly.

“Sam, you remember my friend Mike, from the nightclub a couple weeks ago?” When she said she remembered him, I continued. “He left me a message, wants to have us over for dinner sometime. Want to go?”

“Sure, I’d love to.” There was a pause, “Will the twins be there?”

“I suspect so. Do you like German food? They probably do the cooking for him.”

I told Sam I hadn’t talked to Mike yet and would let her know later on. She sounded enthusiastic about it, though. We chatted a little longer before saying goodnight and ringing off. All in all, despite everything that I’d put Sam through on our weekend in the bush, I was left with the impression that she’d had one of the best weekends of her life with me these past few days.

Monday morning I started work with a new client who needed a web site made up. He’d sent me a rough idea of what he wanted and had attached some sketches of some artwork he liked. He needed someone that could bring his ideas to life. It was to be an adult oriented site. Looking at the crude drawings he’d sent me, I saw his artistic talents were about as good as mine. Nil to none. But I could begin to see an outline of what he had in mind. Samantha’s talents ran closely along the lines of what would fit, and I forwarded the sketches along to her with a note asking if she could improve on the fellow’s ideas. Around noon, Mike called.

“So Jim. How’d the ‘camping trip’ go?”

I could hear his joking sneer over the phone. Mike wouldn’t be caught dead in a mosquito-infested forest; he went first class all the way. I think I managed to sway him a little, as I let out a few juicy details about my weekend with Samantha.

“No shit, Jim? So how’d it go?”

“Fantastic. No major problems at all.”

Mike wanted us over at his place Friday night, for dinner. I asked him if the twins were cooking.

“You want authentic German food?” he asked. “Liselle makes a sauerbraten that’s to die for. See you both at seven, I want to hear more about this trip you two had.”

Around one in the afternoon I decided to call it a day and took lunch outside in the back yard. Later on I did some housework, then called in at the hospital, and got sucked into a meeting next morning. After I thought Sam would be home, I called her. I told her dinner at Mike’s was set for Friday and she asked me what she should wear. “Wear anything you’d like,” I said. “Clothing is usually optional at his place anyway.”

I said to Sam that I’d told Mike a bit about our trip. I heard her pause, as I expected she would, with the thoughts of someone else knowing what went on in the woods those days. “It’s O.K. Sam,” I said. “Mike knows the score. We’ll probably hear some of his stories that’ll make your toes curl.”

“Well, all right,” she said. “If you think it’s O.K., then I don’t mind if he knows about it.”

I told her about the sketches I’d e-mailed her and asked if she wanted to try to improve on the guy’s ideas a bit. “Maybe take a couple and work them up a bit, just a quick thing, something I can send him and see if he likes it. Might be a few bucks in it for you.”

“All those years taking art courses finally might pay off?”

“I don’t know. Might be a chance to show off a little. Your work is really good, Sam. Other people would think so too, I’m sure.” I told Sam I’d see her for dinner the next day since I’d be in the city anyway.

The meeting at the hospital dragged on almost all day and I met her outside the bank where she worked in the late afternoon. It was great to see her again, and after she got into the truck, we kissed passionately for a moment before I drove off. At a stoplight, I took her hand to look at her wrist, at the bruises from her ordeal in the woods. They were beginning to fade a bit now, yellowing around the edges, less purple than before.

“They got me working in the back,” she told me, “going through some records, so nobody has bothered me about them yet. Nice colours, though.” She pulled up her sleeves to show me.

“I think we’ll try not to let that happen again,” I said. We found a good fish and chips shop to have dinner in. Over the meal, I told Sam a little about my friend Mike. Mike Barrett studied law at school, but never went as far as to pass the exam. At the age of sixteen, he received a modest inheritance from his grandmother. Rather than fritter it away, as most teenagers might do, he started making investments. First in stocks, picking a fledgling company seemingly at random, then watching it take off. After building up his funds this way, he moved on to property.

He managed to get in just as the market for real estate was beginning to grow. He’d buy a piece of property, or a house or two, then, a year later he’d unload it at double, sometimes triple what he’d paid for it. At the tender age of thirty, Mike retired. His house, in the posh forest hill area, is said to be valued at close to ten million. His legal knowledge allows him to maintain his investments in such a way that he would never have to work again, if he didn’t want to.

“Mike has an interesting sideline,” I said to Samantha. “Remember Kate, from the bar? Mistress Natasha. There are at least a dozen women like her in the city who run a business where men can go and get dominated. But there are not many places that a woman could go to receive that kind of service. Say a professional woman, someone of importance. A woman in a powerful position, a public figure. She couldn’t go cruising bars, hoping to bump into a dominant male who would be willing to fulfill her fantasies and keep quiet about it. So Mike provides a service to women who want to be dominated for a while, to live out a fantasy for a short time, then go back to their regular lives.”

“You’re kidding,” Sam asked, “Master for rent?”

“Pro-Dom. Really. He gets a booking maybe once or twice a month. All very professional, very discreet. He’s told me the money’s sometimes fantastic, and of course the work’s not that hard. We’ll get him talking when we see him. The stories he tells are truly wild.”

“How do people hear about him? Does he advertise?”

“Word of mouth,” I said. “Mostly. I did a page for him on the net. Sort of cryptic, but if someone was looking for that sort of thing, they’d understand. He doesn’t name names, but he’s told me some things. You would be shocked to hear some of the women who’ve used his services.”

After our dinner, I took Sam home, to her apartment. I wasn’t going to go up, but she insisted. Not that strongly, but I couldn’t refuse. First we had coffee, then I asked to see her marks from the whippings, to see how well they were healing, you know. Then, when she was naked and standing before me, I began to touch that lovely body of hers that I now knew so well. One thing led to another. And that led to something else.

It was close to midnight before I got out of there, us both feeling quite satisfied. Sam’s case of “sunburn” looked still very red, but she wasn’t hurting as much any more, at least. Her bum, where I’d whacked her the most, was rather colourful with the lines and bruises. I knew she’d derived much pleasure from the three sessions during the trip, but seeing her all marked like that made me feel kinda low. If her beautiful skin didn’t regain its former unmarred glory, I would never be able to forgive myself.

Friday evening I picked her up for our dinner date at Mike’s. She came out wearing a slinky little black dress, short. Bare legs and strappy high heels completed the outfit. She’d done her hair in a long braid down her back. As we walked down the hall to the elevator, I fell back to watch her braid swish back and forth as she moved, the end gently patting each cheek of her bum, curling underneath, caressing her.

Samantha was suitably impressed as I wound through Mike’s neighbourhood with its huge mansions, high stone walls, and professionally manicured gardens. The ornate iron gates to his driveway stood open and I wheeled in to park in front of the house. Pretty much only the exterior of the place remained original, with the grey granite stone towering three stories over us as we walked up to the door. Mike had picked the place up for practically a song back then, back taxes owing or something like that. The house needed work, and work it had got. The inside had been completely redone with only the outside reminiscent of thirteen thirteen Mocking Bird Lane, right down to the door knockers; big brass rings held in the mouths of ghouls’ faces. Rather than Herman Munster, we were greeted by Lisa, or Liselle, one of the twins, and shown inside.

“Good evening Sir, Madam. Would you like to follow me, please.” It was Lisa. I’d read her name engraved on her collar. She was wearing an outfit straight from a German beer garden, almost. I didn’t mind following her at all, when she turned around I saw that the outfit was backless, held on her by thin straps at the neck and around her waist. Samantha’s stilettos echoed on the marble floor. Mike knows me all too well, my tastes. Lisa was barefoot.

We passed through the house and into the library, where our host sat with Liselle, dressed the same, cuddled close beside him. They stood when we entered the cosy room and Mike came to greet us, shaking my hand warmly, his eyes on Samantha.

“Great to see you two again, come, sit down.”

I took a chair near Mike; Sam sat on the sofa, while the twins fixed a round of drinks. They passed out the glasses and sat with Sam, one on each side of her. The twin’s fair complexion and blond hair contrasted with Samantha’s dark brown hair and her skin, which was slightly tanned from our recent trip. The talk was general, but not for long.

“So,” Mike said, “Jim told me a little about the trip you two had last weekend.” He speared Sam with those black eyes of his. “Tell me more.”

Mike would have been a great lawyer if he’d gone on with it. He was a good friend, kind as well as generous. But he had a force within him, a driving force that, when he cranked it up and directed it at someone, you’d become powerless to resist his will. I’d seen him with a car salesman once, by the time he’d finished, the guy was almost willing to pay Mike to take the car away.

Sam started talking about the trip, the nice weather, the swimming at the waterfall. Mike was using that voice of his, asking questions, directing her thoughts. I could feel Mike’s dominant force field beginning to envelope everyone in the room. The twins had sensed it first, looking towards their master, becoming alert for changing moods. Samantha had dropped into submissive mode, hearing the power in Mike’s tone, feeling it somewhere deep inside of her. She filled in a few more details about the trip.

“And what happened next, Samantha,” Mike prodded, or, “How did you feel when…”

Mike looked at me a couple times, getting permission to continue the interrogation. I was going to put a stop to it, let Sam off the hook, but I saw she was getting into it, re-living those hours of such intense passion that we’d had, and I let it continue. The twins were starting to get hot too, hearing Sam tell what went on in the marsh, on that cloudy afternoon.

“What were you thinking about when Jim left you alone tied over that boulder, were you frightened?”

Samantha revealed, speaking as if in a dream state, her most private feeling about what she’d experienced during our trip, thoughts that even I didn’t know she’d had. Mike was in full Dom mode, in control. Sam had been more worried about the bears than I’d thought, she told us, and about being seen in bondage in a public place, that had turned her on plenty. Mike looked my way again and I made the kill sign, enough.

In a lighter tone of voice he spoke, collapsing the field that had gripped Samantha. “Well it sounds like you two had a great time.” Just like that, we were back to five friends having a nice before-dinner chat. Sam popped back into the here and now, seemingly unaware of what had just taken place. Mike asked his girls to see to dinner and graceful as always, they stood and headed for the kitchen. I crossed over to sit on the couch with Samantha.

“You know,” I told Mike, “we might take another trip up north this fall, spend a week in the wilderness. You and the girls should come.”

Mike declined, as I knew he would.

“Sleeping on the cold ground? No thanks. I’ll stick to my nice warm bed and the well-stocked fridge. Sounded like you two had fun, though.”

Mike started telling us about a job he did for someone recently. This past weekend he’d had a client, a well-known Hollywood actress, he told us. It wasn’t too long before we were called to dinner by the lovely Liselle, and we were seated at Mike’s big oak dining room table as he continued the tale. The twins took turns serving while we listened to Mike’s latest escapade.

“She flew in from L.A. last Friday,” Mike said. "Wanted a rape scene. Money was no object, she’d told me, so I kinda went all out. I set it up like she was a tourist in another country, China, since I could use the Chinatown area as a backdrop. Hired a limo with an Asian looking driver, two Asian girls from an escort service as maid and cook, housekeeper, like that. Guy picks her up at the airport, drives her through downtown. Then here. Did the house up like a high-class hotel, rented a big desk for the lobby and everything.

"So she spends the night here. I didn’t tell her when it would happen, and she said that had been a big part of the excitement. Next morning, Saturday, she has breakfast here, then the driver takes her back to Chinatown. He knew the area well. Took her around, did some shopping, had lunch. Only a couple people recognized her, she said, so she wasn’t bugged by fans. You know the area, just like being in downtown Kowloon.

"Comes back here late afternoon, has dinner. I told the crew to split around eight. The girls and I were here, waiting for the right time. Around nine we sneeks down the back stairs and into the kitchen, like we broke in the back door. I had a window I’d pulled from someone’s trash, spent enough already, I wasn’t gonna bust one of mine. So we make a big noise, smash the glass. Client comes runnin’ down and into the kitchen. Lisa snaps on the lights, and that’s when I grab her.

"I let her get a good look. I’d dressed up like a girl’s worst nightmare straight from hell. Had the twins wearing black cat suits, pointy ears and all. I spin her around and cuff her hands behind her, then stick duct tape over her mouth. The walls are thick, but I don’t take chances. Last thing I need is attention being drawn here. Not just for me, but for the client’s sake too. Anyway, the girls and I haul her upstairs to her room. We blindfold her and get her naked, tied spread eagle, face down on the bed. Then I let the girls have a go while I sat and watched.

“These two lovelies,” Mike bowed to the twins in turn, "really gave the client a run for the money, surprised even me. The lady said she wanted it rough, and rough she got. When the girls were done, it became my turn. The lady had chewed through the tape gag by this time, but her face was in the pillow so it didn’t matter. Lisa greased her ass, and my cock, then I gave it to her.

“If I told you her name you’d say, “No way, Mike!” You can never tell, the people into this kind of stuff. I pounded her bum for maybe twenty minutes before we flipped her over and I fucked her cunt. The girls were all over her too. She was too weak to struggle much by then.”

I watched Sam listening attentively as Mike finished the tale.

"When I was done I cut the ropes and we disappeared. We were upstairs in one of the rooms and I had a camera mounted in her room with a little monitor to make sure she’d be O.K. She got herself untied, then just lay there for a while with this big smile on her face. She took a shower, then passed out for the rest of the night. I could hear her breathing so I knew she was all right. Next morning we all met up over breakfast downstairs. The lady was very satisfied with the service we’d provided and I drove her to the airport in the afternoon.

“So that was that,” Mike finished up. “The client was quite pleased and said she’d call me again sometime. She said she might have some friends to send my way too.”

“Wow!” Sam said

“Nice work if you can get it,” I said.

“Tough job, but somebody’s gotta do it,” Mike added.

The meal was superb, starting with a delicious chicken soup, followed with Liselle’s famous sauerbraten beef and melt in your mouth potato dumplings. A light salad followed, then dessert, a nice, flaky apple strudel. After dinner, we retired to the living room for drinks and coffee. Sam kicked off her shoes, the twins, after cleaning up, joined their master naked, kneeling beside his chair. Sam and I cuddled on the comfy sofa, the atmosphere of the room, relaxed.

“So, Jim,” Mike asked, “This canoe trip in the fall, any plans?”

“Well,” I said with a grin, “the trees are lovely that time of the year. We might collect colourful leaves and make a scrap book.” Sam gave me a playful elbow in the ribs.

“If you don’t mind me saying,” Mike said, “Samantha, I have a feeling it was the part about being chained up and helpless that seemed to turn you on the most.”

Sam thought for a moment, then said, “I liked it a lot when Jim would start smacking me with something, but I don’t think I’d enjoy it for a whole week. I’m still pretty sore in spots.”

Mike suggested, “Why not try for a period of time in permanent bondage of some kind. Something that you could move around in, but can’t get out of.”

“I’d been thinking along those lines,” I said. “The whippings went well, but I can’t do that very often. Seeing your skin marked up like that, Sam, after I was done, it just didn’t seem right.”

“These two,” said Mike, patting the heads of his girls, “like to tie each other up. Once, I came home from a trip and they’d chained themselves up in the dungeon. They’d been stuck like that for two days. I warned them that if I had been delayed for some reason, they could have been in big trouble. Liselle here has spent thirty days in the cage once, Lisa nearly twenty.”

“The cage?” Sam asked.

“Downstairs,” Mike said. “In the dungeon. Would you like to see it?”

I’ve seen Mike’s secret room downstairs, a true work of art. Built when the conservatory was replaced at the back of the house, a huge excavation, and solid foundation for the greenhouse above. Lisa led the way to the door in the hallway, downstairs, and through the rec room with the big screen TV and the state of the art music system. On the far wall, a classic piece of engineering. Lisa tilted one lighting fixture on the wall, Liselle did the other. A center panel dropped inwards, then was slid aside on noiseless runners. Five more steps down to a heavy wooden door, banded with old looking iron straps. Mike took a large key down from a hook, fitted it into the door, and turned the lock. Lisa went inside to switch on the lights.

This was no cold, damp basement room. The floors were dark stained and highly polished hardwood, the concrete walls faced with reddish coloured brick. Heavy iron staples protruded from the walls in various places. The ceiling was the cement slab of the greenhouse floor, painted black. Pot lights shining downward gave the impression that the height of the room was much greater than the actual eleven feet or so. The air in the room was warm and smelled fresh, inviting. A rack on one wall held articles, ready for use. Mike had a few nice pieces of furniture, some looking new, some, ancient, but in perfect condition.

I let out a surprised snort when I realized that there were two of a few pieces: two padded benches, two St. Andrews crosses mounted side by side. Mike caught me looking. “Yes,” he said, “I added a few things for the twin’s enjoyment.” I could picture it; the padded sawhorses were placed end to end so the girls could watch each other as Mike worked on them.

I took Sam’s hand as we walked through the room. I could feel the tension in her.

“This room is amazing,” she said.

“Anything worth doing is worth doing to excess. Right Jim?”

“And why not?” I answered.

The cage stood, or rather, squatted in one corner. Low tempered glass panels surrounded an area with the bare concrete floor showing. The cage was formed from square steel bars, about an inch in thickness and spaced perhaps six apart. The dimensions of the cage looked to be a little under three feet wide, three feet high and four feet long. It was solidly bolted to the cement floor and a piece of carpeting on the bottom provided meagre comfort for an occupant. Samantha stood transfixed, staring at the thing.

“It’s perfect for long term use,” Mike told us. “Things can get messy after a while but there’s a drain and a hose for washing everything down.”

A small table nearby held several attachments; shackles and bars that could be clamped to the sides of the cage. Lisa opened the end of the cage, Liselle stood near Samantha. Sam looked like she wanted to say something, but was hesitant to do so. I gave her the push that we were all waiting for.

“Would you like to try it out?” I asked her.

She smiled. “Yes, please.”

Liselle, speaking without permission, but Mike let it slide, suggested that Samantha take her dress off before entering the cage. “Yes,” I said, “You’d be more comfortable and your dress wouldn’t get all wrinkled.”

I lent a hand, pulling down the zipper and helping her off with her dress. She wasn’t wearing a bra, but had black panties on. Sam caught my look, then bent to remove them, giving the twins a look between her legs. Liselle noticed them first, Samantha’s labia rings.

“Master!” she exclaimed to Mike, “She h…” Liselle caught herself, but it was too late.

“What?!” Mike snapped out, now annoyed with the girl’s impertinence. Mike moved closer, but when he caught sight of Sam’s rings his mood softened. He looked a little closer while Sam stood red faced.

“Very nice, Samantha,” he said. Then, speaking to the twins, “Girls. Prepare the captive.”

Steel shackles were expertly applied to my Samantha’s wrists and ankles by the eager twins, as she stood, trembling slightly from the excitement that had built up in the room. Lisa helped her to kneel and crawl into the tight confines of the steel cage. Sam’s arms and legs were positioned within, her arms to her sides and her knees under her chest, then the shackles were clamped to the bars. The door was swung shut with a loud and final sounding clang. Mike stepped towards the cage.

“There are several other attachments,” he informed Samantha, “that go with this apparatus.”

He picked up a bar from the table. Mike looked towards me before he began, seeking my approval to touch his cage with its precious contents. I smiled, and he continued demonstrating the effectiveness of the device. He slid the bar into a bracket in the side, under Samantha’s elbows and over her back, pinning her arms firmly in position.

“There’s a bar with a penis gag for the front,” he explained to Sam, “and a similar one for the rear.”

Mike slid a bar in behind her, just under her bum, just barely touching her. He smiled.

“Those rings of yours could come in handy here,” he said to her. Mike reached into the top of the cage and lifted Sam’s long ponytail out through the bars. He wrapped it around a bar, drawing Sam’s head up a bit.

“Very nice,” he murmured.

I watched the twins watching Samantha inside the cage. I could see that they knew all too well what Sam was feeling right now. Sam had been in the cage only a few minutes now, but already I could see signs of her arousal. Mike had said that Liselle was in there for a month once. I asked her if that was thirty days without a break.

“Yes Sir,” she stated.

“The full deal,” Mike said proudly. “We only took out the gag bar so she could eat.”

I asked her, “How was it, Liselle. Did you enjoy it, all that time?”

“Yes Sir. I was very aroused most of the time. But I was quite sore at the end, from being cramped up in there.”

Mike said, “Lisa tried it but her feet kept cramping and causing her awful pain. She’s been doing leg exercises though, and is looking forward to breaking her sister’s record.”

We left Sam in there for a few minutes longer, then I opened the cage and the girls helped to release her.

When she was freed and she’d dressed again, she turned to Mike. “Thank you sir. I enjoyed that.”

“We’ll have to have you back someday,” he said. Have the girls give you the full treatment."

We left the dungeon to head back upstairs for a nightcap. I don’t like to drink when I’m driving, but I had a small one. The evening had gone so well that it called for one. Mike raised his glass and we toasted the three lovely girls.

Later on, Sam and I said our goodbyes and we left Mike’s house. When I pulled out onto the street I asked Sam if she’d like to go to my place.

“But I don’t have anything to wear,” she said with a grin.

“I think I could find you something,” I answered.

“Your friend Mike is quite the character.”

I laughed. “Isn’t he, though? How did you like his dungeon?”

“It’s gorgeous,” she said. “That cage was something else. Imagine spending a month locked up in there?”

“Tell me, Sam.”

She was silent for a moment. “I was only in it for a short while. But I felt so, so held, you know? Like a big hard hug. Mike slid that bar under my elbows and everything seemed to get tighter all over. When he put the other bar in, behind me? I nearly came right there. It was so awesome, thinking of being like that for hours, days.”

Doing what, I thought to myself. Wouldn’t it get kinda boring? “Would you like to try it for longer sometime?”

“Oh yes, Jim,” Sam said. “If your friend doesn’t mind, I’d like that.”

“I’m sure he could “fit you in” someday.”

It was late when we got to my house but we weren’t tired, so I made some tea and we sat and talked. We started to discuss the upcoming trip we’d planned, what we’d do. Mike’s suggestion for some kind of long-term bondage seemed like something Sam would like to do, and it would be something that I’d enjoy a lot too. I asked her how she felt about it.

“Last weekend on the trip, when you’d lock chains on me and the keys were back at camp, it was nice. Neither of us could get me free then.”

“I’ve got those leather cuffs,” I said, “but I could cut them off you if I wanted to. Something more permanent would be good, I think. We could go in the north end of the park this time, there’s nothing but wilderness there. Miles of it. If we take a side route, we’d probably not see anyone else for the whole week. Find a little island out on a lake someplace, call it home.”

I had Sam get undressed and we went down to the basement. In a box in the workshop, I found some lengths of chain and a few locks and we spent some time trying different ways of chaining Sam up. The most obvious place to start was with her hands chained with a bit over a foot of chain between, like those bracelets she had. I found a piece of chain the right length and put it around one wrist, then locked it on her. I did the same with the other end.

“That’s sort of like those bracelets you have, except you can’t get this off,” I said.

A good start, but I felt more was needed. I pulled out another length of chain and found two more locks. This one went around her ankles, again, a little over a foot of chain between her feet. I’d sat Sam on the workbench to do this, and I lifted her down to let her stand. She walked around the room a bit, the chain tinkling on the floor. I tried a couple pieces of chain of different lengths to determine what worked best. She went up the stairs, came back down, I made it shorter and she tried it again. When we were both satisfied, I took some measurements, marked a couple links with black tape, and we called it a night. Sam did have a bit of difficulty negotiating the stairs on the way up since the chain between her ankles was rather short. I’d settled on just under ten inches. But I told her there’d be no stairs in the bush.

“Besides,” I said, “if there’s too much chain dragging, it’ll get snagged on roots and rocks as you walk.”

The chains didn’t match and the locks were awkward, banging around against her anklebones, but I told her I’d go to the hardware store on Monday and find something nicer. I already had something in mind, and seeing Sam ahead of me, shuffling down the hall to my bedroom, I was pleased with the effect. After we’d finished in the bathroom, I undid her braid and brushed out her lovely hair, then we went to bed. Her chains presented little impediment to a wild session of lovemaking. Me on top was no problem. Her straddling me with her feet pulled close together and the chain tight across my thighs was a bit awkward, a little painful for her too. We switched back again to her on her back, me on top, her feet on either side of my waist and the chain stretched across my tummy. Sam’s third orgasm managed to trigger mine, and I relaxed down on her as I blasted a big load inside her, crushing her knees into her chest, my face inches from hers, telling her how wonderful she was.

I remember hearing Sam’s chains rattling when she went to the bathroom. A dull sounding clanking. Either a bright tinkling, I thought, or hardly any noise would be better. I must have heard her come back because it stuck in my mind, being able to hear her moving would be best, and a gentle tinkling, as of silver bells would be nice. Sleigh bells? Ponies? Sleep took me into its gentle embrace.

When I woke the next morning it was to the sound of birds twittering, or so I thought. A gentle tinkling sound in my ears, and something else, a nice feeling. I opened my eyes to see Samantha sitting on the bed, her hands on my cock, gently stroking it. Her chain was clinking on my belly.

“Morning, master,” she said, “did I wake you?” With her sweet pale blue eyes full upon me, she lowered her head to take my length into her mouth and begin licking and sucking on me. I moved my hand to feel her leg, sliding my fingers down her calf to her ankle and feeling the chain around it. Sam shifted a little to bring her foot closer and I started to massage it, pushing my fingers between her toes and pressing my thumb along her sole. My fingers would always stray back to the chain around her ankle though, tracing around the hard links and slipping underneath to feel her soft skin.

Samantha had got me as hard as I was going to get, so I had her lay down on her side and I snuggled in close behind her. Taking my cock in my hand, I guided it into her warm, wet pussy, then slowly pushed its length up inside of her. Sam let out a squeal of pleasure and began to press her bum harder onto me to get more of me inside her. I gathered up most of her hair in one hand and held her head firmly in place as I hooked a leg through her ankle chain and dragged her feet closer to me. Then I began to bang harder into her, bucking my hips to drive my cock deeper and deeper into her with each thrust. Sam started her moaning and loud cries of ecstasy, but now we were alone and she could let loose by making all the noise she wanted.

She came quickly, grinding her bum against me and howling loud and long as her orgasm held her in its grip. I yanked hard on her hair to unclench her cunt and bring her around, then I started pumping into her again. I could feel it starting to build within me as I wound her hair around my hand and, holding her firmly, I began to cum. The light started to dim as my first shot of jism blasted into her. I rolled over onto my back, taking Samantha with me, as another blast pumped into her. I released her hair to place both hands on her shoulders, raising her up a bit and pressing her body down harder onto me as my cock erupted another stream of boiling hot cum into her.

We finished with us both sitting up, her on top of my lap, my arms around her waist, the chain between her hands held tightly in mine. I nuzzled the back of her neck and rolled her hips around on me while my cock shook and twitched inside her tight, slippery channel, wetness seeping past and feeling all squishy against my thighs. Sam had a towel handy which she must have brought from the bathroom last night and when I collapsed breathlessly back onto the bed she rolled off me and took care of the mess. She lay down beside me facing away from me with the towel between her legs, the other end around my cock. She raised up her head when I put my arm around her and we lay together in the quiet of a Saturday morning, her bum snuggled against me, my hand on her breast.

Sam wore the chains all morning and part of the afternoon. I made the coffee and she made us pancakes for breakfast, I cooked burgers on the barbie for lunch. We spent a lot of time sitting around in the back yard, naked most of the time, since I had no nosy neighbours for miles around. Sam tried swimming in my pool with her chains on and managed to do quite well. When she stopped paddling she’d quickly sink down to the bottom, but I told her that the water in the lakes of the park was usually ice cold in the fall so we’d probably not be swimming much anyway.

We talked about what she could wear for the trip. The poncho she had worked well and with a thicker tube top she’d be all right if it got cold. She said she had a long skirt, since with her feet chained, shorts or pants would not be very useful.

“We’ll go on a shopping trip sometime,” I said, “get you some more clothes for the trip.”

In the afternoon, I called to book tickets at a high school theatre in a nearby town. They had a comedy troupe doing a show there. We had a nice long soak in the hot tub, then I took Sam’s chains off and we dressed for dinner and a show. Sam only had her little black dress and her heels, and she looked gorgeous. Supper was good, the show really funny, and we got back to my place around eleven, or so.

Sunday morning we were sitting around, wondering what to do, when I got a call to go in to work. Somebody’s printer wouldn’t print, or some such crap. Nevertheless, duty calls, so I took Samantha home before driving over to the hospital. Sam showed me the sketches she’d done, the ones I’d sent to her from my possible client, and I took them with me. She’d really made the guy’s ideas come to life, I told her. When I got back home, I scanned the images and sent them off.

The following week I checked out a few hardware stores and building supply places, looking for some perfect chain. I probably looked like an idiot, holding chains up to my ear and shaking them, searching for the right pitch of sound. I bought some that might do, and then I remembered something Sam had said about the bracelets she had. She’d found them in a marine supply store. I went to a couple and finally found what I was really looking for. Smooth, close links, two sizes, one, a little bigger than the other. Nice, gentle tinkling sound. Perfect.

The only problem was that this chain was made from high carbon steel and had been hardened. I found this out when the guy cut off pieces for me and had to use a power grinder to saw through the links. However, feeling the almost oily smoothness of the links, I knew it was what I wanted.

At another place, I bought four quick links. Quick links are a chain link with an opening and a long nut that screwed across to close the link. Since it was a nut, a wrench could lock it up tight, and it wasn’t heavy or awkward like a padlock would be. Two of one size, two a little smaller, and in the parking lot I tried them in the chain to make sure that they fit, and that they looked good. I also picked up four new padlocks. I could have got four with the same key, but fumbling with a bunch of different keys can sometimes be fun too.

I could hardly wait for the week to end, and on Friday, I picked Sam up from work and took her to my place. On my bed, I showed her the bonds she’d be wearing for our week in the bush. I could see she was getting excited as I wrapped one end of the smaller chain around her wrist, slipped the quick link through, and after checking that the chain was neither too tight or too loose, I spun the nut closed. I used a screwdriver and a wrench to snug up the link. I counted the links around her wrist, then did her other hand. The process was repeated for her ankles, using the chain that was a little thicker. While I chained her, I told her of my plans.

“I think we’ll put these chains on you right at the beginning,” I said. “We’ll tighten these links down, then I’ll leave the tools in the truck. There’ll be a couple short portages at the start of the trip, and one long one, but you can wear boots and thick socks so your ankles don’t get rubbed too bad. After that, you probably won’t have to do much walking.”

Sam asked, “So these chains are going to stay on for the whole week?”

“Yes,” I said, “that’s the general idea.”

I had Sam put her feet through her wrist chain so her hands were behind her back.

“I’ve got four locks,” I went on. “After we’ve passed the long portage, when I feel we won’t be bothered by other people, I’ll stash the keys in some place, under a big rock or in a tree somewhere. When we’re settled at our final camping spot, and after a day or two, I’ll start putting the locks on you.”

I slipped one lock through the chains at her wrists and clicked it closed. Samantha’s hands were now stuck behind her back. I could see the effect it was having on her, as the realization dawned on her.

“How am I going to do anything like this?” she asked.

“I don’t know,” I answered. “I guess I’ll be doing everything. I might lock your feet together first.”

I used another lock to lock the chains around her ankles together. I had her lay on her front, then I locked the loose chain between her hands and feet together, pulling her feet up close to her hands and clicking the lock closed.

“By the end of the week,” I said, “this is how you’ll be. I might not make the hog tie so tight, we’ll see how much trouble you give me.”

Sam was getting hot now, squirming around on the bed, struggling a bit in the chains. The links lay evenly around her wrists and ankles, spreading the force around without pressing uncomfortably against her. “You said you had four locks.”

Very good my pet, I thought. I showed her the rubber bit gag, the leather straps replaced by a length of chain. Sam gasped, then smiled widely. I pushed the bit gag into her mouth and locked the chain behind her head.

“This is how you’ll end up, Sam. The gag should be the last thing, I guess. It would be hard to eat with it on. On the last day I’ll pack everything up, load the stuff and you in the boat and we’ll go find the keys to let you go. Like it?”

“Mmmm Mmmmm.”

I took that for a yes. I had to put a towel under her head to stop her drool from soaking my bed. After I’d stirred her up some, I had to get another towel for her other end. Her pussy juices were flowing freely by the time I finished. Fucking was pretty much impossible with her trussed up like that, but I used my hands and mouth on her, driving her wild with passion, and I made her cum several times, just sitting back and watching her shake and writhe in her chains. I left Sam laying chained up on my bed while I went and called for a pizza. It wasn’t until it was delivered that I released her; the locks anyway, her two chains, I left on her.

Sam spent the entire weekend at my house, naked and with her hands and feet chained. The one between her hands she was mostly used to since she had her bracelets with the connecting chain and had told me she’d worn them practically every night. I would have thought having her feet chained so close would take some getting used to, but she surprised me by quickly adapting to the hobble, taking short, careful steps at first, then, as the weekend progressed, becoming more and more confident in moving around and doing things with her chains on.

Friday night I used two locks to connect her hands and her feet together, Saturday night I gave her the full treatment, making the hog tie rather loose but locking the bit gag tightly into her mouth. On Sunday morning, we tried letting her eat and drink something with the bit in, water at first, then some soft cooked eggs. It was a little messy, and she choked once or twice, but when I went to remove her gag, she’d shake her head, determined to try it again.

“Take the gag home with you,” I said, after she’d cleaned herself up. “See if you want to practice trying to eat something with it in during the week. If you think you can manage, I could put it on you earlier on in the trip.”

“You just don’t want to hear me complaining,” she said.

I had to laugh at that one.

“Well, yes. But no, that’s not it,” I told her. “This trip has to be fun for the both of us, Sam. If there’s anything or if I do anything that you don’t like, don’t want to do, you tell me and we’ll stop. I don’t want to push you into anything you might regret later and be upset over, O.K.?”

“Oh Jim,” she said, “You haven’t done anything yet that upset me. On the contrary, I’ve loved every minute that we’ve spent together. And I’m really excited about this trip, I’m really looking forward to it. I want you to do everything to me that you said you would. I’m not going to complain, I want to do it. I need to try, master, I have to.”

We were standing in the kitchen and I took a step closer to her, then took her in my arms. This sweet, sweet beauty was the center of my universe now and I held her tightly to me, feeling her melt into me in that way she had of giving all of herself to me. There’d been no end to the sex this weekend; we must have done it in every room in the house, and outside, in the back yard. Sam’s pussy was raw from us fucking so much and we were both a bit giddy from having cum so many times. But when I took hold of the chain between her hands and lifted her arms up over her head, she pressed her luscious body tightly against mine, our lust for one another rising to the occasion once again.

It was late Sunday afternoon before I took Sam’s chains off and let her get dressed again. We drove into the city to have a nice supper at an Indian restaurant, then I took her home afterwards. She had her bit gag in a plastic bag with the chain, and I’d given her a snap fastener, in case she had to take it out quickly. She said she’d try to get used to having it in her mouth for an extended time. We’d have two weeks, maybe three, depending on the weather, before our trip.

The following week, the guy for whom Sam did the drawings e-mailed me and was thrilled with how the pictures had come out. He sent me more stuff and asked if I could work up his web site. I put something together for him, an outline he could put on a disk and go through, to see if he liked the look. By the end of the week, I had the contract to do his site. I got Samantha to do a few more pieces of artwork; she helped me a bit on getting the layout looking right, and I split the fee with her.

They say bad things happen in threes. I’m still waiting for the third, but on the next week, I was informed that my contract for network administration at the hospital wouldn’t be renewed. Typical bureaucracy, they weren’t getting a new system, just cutting back on maintaining the old one. I had little doubt that they’d be calling me back to put things right, only instead of a fixed contract I’d be charging service call rates and probably making more money. Even if they found someone else to do the work, it was no big deal, I had other interests going, and I also had enough stashed away that I didn’t really have to worry about money for a while anyway. With Samantha, however, she was devastated, when on Friday they told everyone that her bank branch was closing. Some of the senior employees would be transferred to other branches, but for her, she was shit out of luck. When I picked her up after work, she tearfully told me the news.

“This was my last day,” she said between sobs. “They gave me three weeks severance pay. A few people were kept on until they close the branch in a couple more weeks, but I’m out.”

“Fuck it,” I said. “It was a good job, but it’s only a job, there’ll be another. Don’t worry about it, O.K.?”

I didn’t say it, but in a way I was glad she’d lost the job. Maybe it would be the push she needed to decide to move in with me, like we’d talked a little about.

“Don’t worry about it, Sam,” I told her. “There’s plenty of work around for someone as smart as you. If you need help with the rent or something, you tell me. All right? I won’t charge you much interest on a loan,” I added with a grin.

At least that got a little smile out of her. We picked up some Chinese takeout and had it in her apartment. After dinner, I used her computer to log onto the web site she’d helped me create. The site was one of those pay by month sex sites. There wasn’t much content yet, it had only been up for a week and the guy was still putting stuff in, but what was there held Sam’s attention.

“You could probably sell this guy some of your drawings,” I said to her.

“You think so?”

“He would pay you for having them here,” I told her, “and you’d keep the originals for yourself. Basically, you rent the image to him and retain the rights to it.”

“How much can someone make with a site like this?” she asked.

“Well the bigger ones can have maybe two hundred thousand members at one time. Times fifteen or twenty bucks a month…”

“Wow! That much?”

“Content’s the key. Getting the word out, then keeping it fresh, keeping membership up. This guy’s off to a good start, I think. With your help.”

Sam’s translations of the fellow’s sketches did look good on the screen, the borders and even the arrows she’d done looked almost erotic in a way. It was good, showing her the site, opening up possibilities for her so that the loss of her banking job didn’t seem to be such an end for her.

I stayed the night at her place, just holding her close that night, cuddling her. We screwed in the morning.

Last week of August was gloomy and cool. The beginning of September it stayed that way. Rain almost every other day, and cool. Fall weather in Ontario. Sam had her period, so adding to the depressing weather, we couldn’t fuck. I picked up some other things for the trip: a small naphtha gas stove, an insulated bag for food. I cooked some things and froze them in meal-sized portions, packed up the dry food. We were ready to roll.

I saw Sam more often now; with her out of work, she could stay with me during the week as well as on weekends. She brought her four goldfish to my house and we put them in my fishpond, so she wouldn’t have to bother about them when we were away. She’d already had a job offer, but it was too far to travel, the pay was low, and she’d turned it down. Still, she knew work was available, and her spirits were good, raised higher as the time for the trip drew closer.

Second week of September, the skies cleared and it got bitterly cold. Then, two days later, summer returned. The forecast was for the good weather to hold for a while so I picked up Sam, we loaded the truck, and we said bye-bye to the world.

[part 2]

Being a Tuesday and the end of summer, traffic through cottage country was non-existent. The Jeep handled well since I’d packed extra light. Camping in a campground was a whole lot different from camping out in the wilderness. Having to lug a bunch of crap along a winding forest trail becomes less fun the farther you go. Also, on the way out, I doubted that Sam would be in any condition to offer much help. At least not if we stuck to the original plan. The biggest and most heavy item, apart from the canoe, was a plastic tote box with the food and cooking stuff, and it would be mostly empty on the way back.

We’d started out late in the morning, after a hearty breakfast. It was a five-hour drive to the north side of the park and the entry point I’d chosen. I planned to spend the night in a motel nearby so we’d have a full day to make a good start on the trip. I’d gone over the map of the park with Sam and, although I’d never been to this area before, we picked a fairly short route that ended up as a dead end in a small lake. A long portage along the way and the isolation of the area, well off the main canoe routes, would hopefully give us the privacy that we were seeking.

We stopped along the way for lunch, stopped again at a couple of souvenir and craft stores. Sam found a thick, blue cotton, long dress that had a bib type front and a strap that went around her neck. With a tube top underneath it would be perfect for her to wear, and I bought it for her. We hadn’t packed much clothing and with the way Sam would be chained her choices were further limited. Blankets and warm clothing would be a necessity, I was sure. Rain wear, hiking boots, just the basics I had said. The less we had to carry, the better.

With that last cold snap the trees had started turning colours and the hills along the way looked gorgeous. It was as if a giant had sloshed buckets of yellow, green, and red paint over the forest. The farther north we drove the more pronounced the colours were, vibrant golds and deep reds, beautiful in the sunlight.

Around six, or so, we made the town we were looking for and stopped at a motel for the night. Across the street was a diner where we had our supper, then we took a stroll through the sleepy little town. People nodded to us as we passed, even stopped to talk with us at times.

“It’s so nice here,” Sam said to me, “so peaceful.” We’d crossed a bridge and had walked down to the marina to look at the boats there.

“Folks are a lot more open in towns like this,” I said. “People are more trusting, even of strangers passing through. They don’t get the crime here that we do, or at least it’s not an everyday occurrence, not always in your face like it is in the big city.”

Sam said, “It would be nice if we could live someplace like this. Maybe a little cabin up in the hills, or a small farm.”

We? Hmmm.

“Hmmm,” I said, “A big cabin would be nice. Things are a lot less expensive up here, property and houses, that is. Some things cost more. It is nice though.”

The park office was in the general store, which was closed. A few doors down was a bar though, and the good old sounds of rock and roll could be heard from inside. The joint had a big crowd for a Tuesday night, and the band, local boys, no doubt farm hands from around the area, belted out the tunes and sounded really good. We stayed for three sets as the crowds swelled and Sam and I got drunker, unusual for me since I’m not that big a drinker. But the beer was fresh and good, the atmosphere of the bar homey and relaxed, and the start of our trip seemed to require celebrating.

It was near to ten thirty before we left the bar to stagger up the hill to our motel room. We collapsed on the bed in a fit of giggles and I held Samantha close, cuddling and kissing her as the room spun around me. We stripped and got under the covers, explored each other’s bodies for a while, until I ended up passing out.

Next morning I woke, a bit hung over, but eager to make a start on the day. After a big breakfast at the diner, we took our last hot showers for a while, then we left the motel and I drove down the hill to the park office to check in. The park ranger eyed us both sceptically for a moment, Sam especially, noting her radiant beauty and how out of place she’d appear in the wilds. But then he seemed to notice my truck parked out front with the canoe expertly lashed to the rack on top, and I guess he figured us city slickers would be O.K.

Access to the wilderness area of the park is controlled as to numbers of people per day, routes that you can take, and most importantly, where you can set up camp. There are lots of cleared sites along the routes of lakes and rivers for canoeists to make camp, and primitive toilet facilities are also provided. There are rules as to what one can bring into the park like no cans or bottles, just re-usable plastic containers, bags and packages only. All garbage that you couldn’t burn had to be packed out. To show the ranger I knew what I was doing, I pulled out my map of the park, with all the info printed on the back, and traced our planned route for him. I also had a photocopy of the part I’d need, less to carry than the big map of the whole park.

“Not many people go to that lake,” he said as I pointed out our destination. “It’s a shame too, that’s one of the prettiest spots.”

“I’d planned on staying for four, maybe six days there.” I told him. “So long as the weather holds.”

“This island,” he pointed it out, “has two sites. Pick the east end, it’s a little rocky, but nice and sunny.”

I said I’d like to pay up for eight nights but we’d maybe stay a couple days longer, if it didn’t get too cold or rainy.

“Well sure, pay for the eight now, and if you stay a few days longer, don’t worry about it. Just check in when you leave so we know you’re all right. Not many folks in the interior right now. Had a group of six go in last weekend, heading south, to the highway. No one through here yesterday. Should be nice and peaceful for you two.”

The camping fee wasn’t much, a little more than I’d paid for one night at the motel. I had a look at the map on the office wall, a newer version than the one I had, but the rivers and lakes hadn’t changed. The long portage was still just as long, nearly a mile and a half in length. The park ranger wished us well when we left and I drove out of town and along the gravel park access road.

After less than an hour, the road ended at the shore of a big lake. There was a parking area with a couple other vehicles standing there; otherwise the place was deserted. I parked close to the water, then we started to unload the truck. We got the boat in the water and all the stuff in it, then I turned to Sam.

She was wearing a flannel shirt, one of mine actually, and a long skirt. I had her put on the outfit we’d picked up along the way, with a stretchy tube top underneath. I had her leave one long skirt in the truck, since she’d brought two.

“Ready?” I asked her.

I put the chains on her wrists and her ankles, snugging up the quick links firmly with a wrench and using a screwdriver through the link to lever the wrench against. I gave each link a final reef, making doubly sure everything was even, not twisted in any way, and fixed onto her for the duration. As a concession to prudence and safety, I’d stashed a hacksaw blade inside one of the tent poles, just in case of some emergency, so I could cut through the mild steel of the quick links if I had to. But I wasn’t going to tell Samantha that until after the trip, perhaps. For all she knew, the chains were on her to stay.

I had one box of “things we might not take.” In it was bug spray. There were no bugs; the chilly weather of last week had reduced the numbers of annoying insects considerably. My small axe. I’d like to take it, but I had a little folding saw for cutting up firewood. The battery radio.

I asked Sam, “If we leave the radio we’ll be totally cut off from the rest of the world. That might be a good thing, but it can get pretty boring in the evenings.”

“Leave it,” she said.

I thought for a moment. “No, we’ll take it. It’ll be nice to know what the weather is going to do, at least.”

Chairs were out, but we had pads to kneel on in the boat, to sit on around the fire, and to sleep on. I left the wrench in the truck, under her seat, and I also left one ring of keys for the locks there too. The second set of keys, the ones I’d stash in the woods someplace, I took with us.

I had her go get in the boat while I moved the truck to a shady spot away from the water. Then I walked to the canoe, pushed it out, and climbed in. We were off. The loose chain between Sam’s wrists was just an inch longer than that of the bracelets she had, and it allowed her to get a slightly better grip on her paddle. I told her to take it easy paddling across the big lake since we had nothing but time now and I didn’t want us to get too tired too soon.

“We’ve got a long ways to go,” I said. We’ll have to make camp once, probably twice before we get to the lake."

We started seeing campsites along the shore, but no people there. Later on, on the other side of the lake we spotted two canoes going in the direction we’d come from. People returning to their car where we parked, probably. We left the lake to follow a wide river, and then came to the first portage, a short one around a rocky set of rapids.

Getting out of the boat, we dried off our feet, then put on hiking boots. Sam tucked the tops of her thick socks underneath the chains, then put her boots on. Although she could only take short steps, the tops of the boots supported the chain around her ankles and the smooth links slid easily over her cotton socks, so walking wasn’t really much of a problem for her. Leaving a few things in the boat, we carried it upright along the trail and to the top of the rapids. Sam carried the back of the boat, since with her hands chained in front of her it was easier that way.

“Can you make another trip?” I asked her, when we got to the other end of the portage. “Are you all right?”

“Sure,” she said, “Let’s go.”

Sam hobbled down the hill while I followed behind, watching her ass twitch back and forth with her hair swishing across it as she walked, her chains tinkling gaily in the quiet forest. We made another trip carrying stuff up to the boat, then I let Sam rest while I went back for the last few things. We lightened the load a bit by eating a couple peaches before we set out again.

The river petered out in a marshy swamp and we made another trek along a trail alongside. This portage, although longer, was flat and open alongside the swampy part, fairly easy going. Back in the water, we paddled for a while, then stopped for lunch. I had sandwiches already made and we ate them, then pressed on.

“How you doing?” I called to her in the front of the boat as we took a break and floated for a while.

“Great,” she said. “It’s really beautiful out here.”

“Are you O.K.?” I asked again.

“Sure,” she answered, “I’m fine. Getting a bit tired though, will we be stopping soon?”

In keeping with the wilderness adventure theme, I’d brought along no watch. It looked to be around four, and I told her we’d stop in about another hour or so.

We came upon a nice little island in the middle of a lake with one campsite on it, and I called a halt. Pulling the boat onto shore, we surveyed our home for the night. After unloading the canoe we set up my small, two person tent, then I went to the mainland for firewood, since there wasn’t much dead wood left on the island. It didn’t take long for me to return with a boatload and I made a fire while Sam started preparing dinner. I baked some potatoes in the fire and we heated up a portion of the frozen beef stew. We had fresh bread and half of a carton of some kind of wine with the meal, instant coffee and apple pie for dessert. “Wow,” Sam said, after we’d eaten. “Was that ever good!”

“Keep the memory fresh in your mind,” I said, “by the end of the trip we’ll be eating grubs and berries.”

We cleaned up from supper and I threw a rope over a tree branch to hoist the box of food up high, away from any animals that might happen by. All it takes is one stinking racoon to root through your food with his shitty little paws to ruin a nice trip. We stripped down and took a quick wash in the cool lake water. It was starting to get chilly and Sam put her poncho on to cover her bare arms. I put on a thicker shirt and we sat around the fire for a while.

It got dark rather quickly, and the air got colder too. Sam moved nearer to me, snuggling close. After a while, I got up to put some more wood on the fire and I lit a candle, placing it near the tent. We didn’t bring my gas lantern, too much trouble, but a large candle gives off enough light and could also afford a bit of heat inside the tent if needed. I found the flashlight and the radio, then returned to Samantha and cuddled up to her. Reaching under her poncho, I felt around her hands and the chain, then my fingers strayed up higher to her breasts, bare under the covering, the nipples hard and a little cool to the touch. Her feet were bare too, drawn up under the long skirt she was wearing.

“You’re not too cold?” I asked her.

“Not really,” she said. “How far do you think we came today?”

“A little under half way. We’ll hit the long hike before noon tomorrow, it’s just along a river at the end of this lake.”

“It’s so quiet,” she said. “Is there anyone else on this lake?”

“Just us, I guess. I didn’t see any other lights around.”

Sam looked at me with a sly grin. “So you won’t have to gag me tonight.”

“No, I suppose not,” I said, chuckling.

We both only had one pair of hiking boots each, because by midweek I expected that Sam would have little use for shoes. Less to carry too. We got up to walk barefoot down to the water’s edge and Sam held up her skirt to step out into the water. It was fully dark now with no moon to wash the sky with light and, looking north, we could see the northern lights, faint rippling ribbons of light dancing amongst the stars.

“Oh my God,” Samantha whispered to me, “I’ve seen that on TV, but never for real. It’s so beautiful.”

“You’ve got to go much farther north,” I quietly said, “to get the full effect. The colours would be a lot brighter and it would seem to fill the entire sky around you.”

The light show above was reflected in the inky blackness of the lake at our feet. I held Sam’s hand as the cold of the water froze our toes.

Later on, we returned to the warmth of the fire and I made us some cups of hot chocolate and found some cookies to go with it. I hoisted the food container back up into the trees and we listened to the radio for a while, pulling in far away stations on the AM dial with no interference from electrical gadgets for miles around. After putting everything away, we soaked up heat from the fire before I doused it and we went to bed.

Inside the tent, we eagerly stripped off our clothes and slid into the chilly sleeping bag, arranging blankets over it and zipping it up. Sam’s chains were ice cold against my skin, but we warmed up quickly. Sam lay on top of me at first, until it got warmer, then she slid down under the covers, her wrist chain slipping down my chest, until I felt her hot breath against my cock. She started to gently lick me around the head, teasing me for a while, before she took the length of it into her mouth and slipped it down deep into her throat.

I wanted to touch her, so after a few moments I raised the covers and called down for her to turn around. She was awkward in shifting around inside the sleeping bag, but she managed, and I slid down a little as she brought her feet up around my ears. Her ankle chain was strangling me now, so we fumbled around a bit more until the chain was under my head, her pussy was pressed against my mouth, and my cock was once more lodged down her throat.

I pushed my nose through her slit, letting her labia rings rest on either side of my nose, and I flicked my tongue back and forth across her clit. Sam moaned with pleasure, intensifying her efforts to swallow me whole. I sucked her lips into my mouth and played with her rings with my tongue, hearing the metal clicking against my teeth, then I pushed my tongue deep up inside her, rolling it around in her warmth and wetness. I was soon reaching for a towel to mop up her slickness that was running down my chin and threatening to make a swamp of our bed.

I unzipped the bag so Sam could turn around more easily and I had her lay down on her back, spreading the towel under her bum to soak up any ensuing messes. I lay down on top of her, pushing my feet under her ankle chain so she could bring her legs up over my back. She was undeterred by my pussy juice soaked face and she kissed me passionately, pushing her tongue into my mouth even as I pushed my throbbing cock into her slippery wet pussy. I started banging into her, trying to keep most of my weight off her, since the pads under our bedding didn’t offer a lot of cushioning. Sam pressed her heels onto my back and her chain was hanging down in the crack of my ass, tickling me there as I pumped into her.

Samantha’s cries of passion were loud, carrying far, I was sure, across the water in the still night air. Perhaps even to other lakes, I thought, trying to distract myself from cumming too quickly while riding out the massive orgasm that held her in its grip. People sitting up, around their fires, hearing the sounds of some tortured beast far off in the woods. The idea made me grin.

Sam’s hands were on my face and I hooked her chain with my thumb to drag it down and under her head, bringing her hands down around her face. I bent to kiss her as I started thrusting into her again. Sam’s feet had slipped down to my ass, her heels driving me on, the chains around her ankles grinding into me. The loose chain between her feet was swinging around and, at times, slapping against my balls. I felt only pleasure, however. Her feet moved a bit lower and the chain began hitting my cock on each upstroke. That was when I lost it. My weight fell onto Sam as I blasted a jet of blazing hot cum into her. Her feet twitched, sending the chain swinging and stroking my crotch again, and another shot of cum burst forth. Her lusty moan loud in my ear, I shot another couple jets of jism into her, then collapsed on top of her, my panting breath hot and heavy against the side of her head. Sam lifted her head up to slip her wrist chain from underneath, then brought her hands up over my head to caress my back, with her chain sliding smoothly across my skin. I rolled off her a little so she wasn’t crushed, and we held each other as my cock softened inside of her.

Later on, we went naked outside to take a piss, and then go to the lake and wash up a bit. The water was cool, although not unbearably so, but we were quick about it, drying off and slipping back into the still warm sleeping bag. Holding my lovely Samantha in my arms again, I was soon fast asleep.

Morning brought cloudy skies, but slightly warmer weather, and together we fixed a big breakfast of fried eggs and ham slices, which I grilled over the fire. I even managed to make passable toast on the grill.

By the time we’d finished eating, the sun was out again. Sam changed into a long skirt with her lighter poncho and nothing underneath; I wore shorts and a flannel shirt. We broke camp and hit the water. After paddling across the lake, we found the wide river leading to the long portage. Sam’s clothing covered her chains well enough, and it was a good thing too, since along the way we passed a couple of other boats, stopping in the middle of the river to chat for a few minutes with an older couple. They looked like they’d been in the park for a while, since the man had a good two weeks growth of stubble on his face.

We ran into a couple more people along the portage too. Sam had to stop walking when they came near so her ankle chain wouldn’t rattle and cause suspicion, but we just set whatever we were carrying down, making it look like we’d just decided to take a little rest. The first part of the hike was part of a main route and at about half way the trail branched to go south, or east to the lake we’d chosen to visit. The branch was marked clearly as to where the main path led and also that the other route ended at our lake. Mostly, people going somewhere and travelling through the park, would stick to the main route, not as interested in taking a path that didn’t seem to lead on to anywhere. At least that’s what I was counting on.

The main part of the path was well travelled and a relatively easy hike, but where it branched, it continued as a more narrow trail winding through dense forest, and uphill to boot. To say it was daunting would be an understatement. We’d started with the canoe, carrying it upright with the paddles, lifejackets, and sleeping pads in it. On the less used trail, it became impossible to negotiate with it like that and I had to carry the boat up over my head with Sam bringing the other things along. Despite her having the chains on, she had an easier time of it than I did. The boat kept getting wedged between trees or hung up on branches, and it was up hill, at times steeply so, almost all the way.

Finally, the trail levelled off, then began to descend in a gentler slope and the forest thinned somewhat. The path ended at a disappointingly small stream. We dropped our loads, turned to one another, and burst out laughing.

“What a fucking ordeal,” I said.

“Hardly seems worth it,” said Sam, looking out at the muddy little river.

“Ya, well, it can only get better. Right?”

After a brief rest, we headed back for another load. At the other end, we had a snack of some fruit and a drink of water, then we picked up some more stuff to make the trek again. At the boat, I had Sam get busy on making some ham sandwiches while I made the hike once more for the last few things. By the time we had everything together, had a quick lunch, and set out again, it must have been late afternoon. Just to make things even more annoying, the little river was blocked four times by beaver dams, forcing us to get out and haul the loaded canoe over them.

It was beginning to get dark when, at last, the river opened onto a long, narrow lake. I picked the first campsite we came to, drove the boat onto shore, and stopped for the day. I got the fire going while Sam set up the tent. I cut up some onions and potatoes, which Sam fried on the stove while I grilled a couple thick pork chops. We finished the other half of the wine and started on another. We’d both been a little edgy for the last few hours, but after eating and relaxing for a bit, I started to feel somewhat better.

“We didn’t make much progress today,” I said, “but we’ve only got a short ways to go now.”

I showed Sam the map. “There’s another portage to get to our lake, but it’s not long. We should be there sometime in the afternoon.”

In the evening light, we took a wash in the lake and I examined Samantha’s wrists and ankles, looking for signs that the chains were causing her problems. Apart from a few small red marks from them rubbing against her skin she seemed fine. After we’d cleaned up, I rubbed a little skin cream under her chains and then I gave her a nice massage, since she said her shoulders were getting a bit sore from paddling so much. Of course, since she’d complained of her being sore, I was forced to lock the bit gag into her mouth. Sam wore the gag for the rest of the evening.

Before we went to bed I used another lock to lock her hands behind her back, then I held a cup to her lips to let her drink some water. After I’d dried her face off, we snuggled into the sleeping bag, making love finally, her on her side and me behind her. After that I unlocked her hands, but when I went to remove the gag she shook her head and moved away from me. She wanted me to leave it on her.

We went outside for a piss, then got back into bed. Sam snuggled up close to me and we quickly fell asleep.

It must have been early in the morning when I woke, my arm numb from Sam’s head resting on it, my shoulder wet with her drool leaking past the bit in her mouth. My arm behind her was wrapped in her soft hair, one of her arms was across my chest, and her leg was across mine. I could feel her chains against my skin, warm, nice. My lovely little slave girl.

Ever so gently, I touched her nipple, running a finger around it, barely touching her. I watched as her eyes flickered open, then glanced downward as she realised her cheek was in a puddle. She lifted her head up and more slobber flowed from her mouth. “Uuugg whhaas hmm.”

It finally dawned on her that she still had the bit in her mouth. Taking up a towel, I wiped my shoulder and daubed at the corners of her mouth. I unzipped the sleeping bag and sat up. I was suddenly horny as hell. Taking Sam’s wrist chain in my hand, I hauled her up out of bed. One of the locks was still on the floor and I grabbed it, then opened the tent and we went outside.

It had been warm in the tent, and outside it was quite pleasant. I’d seen a fallen tree nearby last night and I had a plan. Leading Sam over to it, I had her lay face down over the thick tree trunk. The wood was still solid but the bark had fallen off, making a nice smooth surface for her soft tummy. Reaching under the tree, I slipped the lock through her wrist chain and connected it to her ankle chain. I clicked the lock closed and stepped back before she’d realized what I’d done.

“Mmmffft.”

“Quiet or I’ll have to spank you.”

“MMMff. Mmmfss!”

Oh what a cutie. I sauntered around a bit, rubbing the sleep from my eyes, my dick waving around in front of me. I did go down to the water to see if we were alone, and not seeing anyone, I returned to my helpless victim.

“MMMMM!” she sputtered.

“Didn’t I tell you what would happen if you weren’t quiet?”

“Mmm.”

I began to smack her upturned bum with my hand. When it was a nice even red colour, I moved her back a little, before she flipped herself around the tree trunk, and I pushed my cock into her burning, wet pussy.

Almost as soon as I’d entered her, she came, a long, howling cum that had her shaking and bucking against the wood, me fighting to hold her from flipping us both over the top of the trunk. Finally, I grabbed hold of the lock behind her head and pulled her head up, then I started to pump my cock into her in long deep strokes that had her groaning and panting around the gag. I fucked her through another two orgasms until I could hold back no longer and I let loose a torrent of cum into her, filling her up to overflowing with it.

When my senses returned, I stepped back, withdrawing myself from her grasping cunt. I gave her bum a final hard smack, causing her to jump and making a gush of gooey cum shoot out of her. Then I went to find the keys.

When I crawled out of the tent, I had to pause and just stare at her for a moment, her arms and legs hanging down, locked around the big log, her head down and hair pooled on the ground. Her crimson bum high, glowing in the bright morning light, trails of glistening slime down the backs of her thighs. Simply stunning.

Climbing over the tree trunk, I unlocked her gag first and moved her hair off her face. She tilted her head up to me and tried to speak, but her mouth wouldn’t work right. After I’d unlocked her chains and helped her to gingerly sit on the log, she turned her head to face me and gave me the sweetest smile.

“Thank you, sir.”

“It was my pleasure, little one.”

The air was definitely warmer, and neither of us felt the need to put on clothes. I used the stove to make coffee and I cooked a pot of oatmeal for breakfast, choosing to save the eggs and better stuff for later on. After we ate, we took a good wash in the lake, even managing to swim a bit before the chilly water drove us out and back to the sunny shore. Finally, we got dressed, struck camp, packed everything into the boat, and left.

We paddled the length of the lake and found the next river, which wound through a mountainous area. As we paddled, the hills around us got higher and more rugged looking. High, bare rock cliffs, towering over us on either side of the river in some spots. The water was calm though, only a small amount of current moving against us, and the going was fairly easy. When the river began to turn south, I kept an eye out for the marking of the portage that would take us to the last lake.

Sam spotted the yellow sign, nailed to a tree in a small bay, and we turned in. This time, for a change, we took some of the packs first, leaving the boat for later. The trail went uphill for a bit, then we came to a steep drop off that led down the side of a hill and to the water far below. I went first, ready to drop what I was carrying and catch Sam if she happened to slip or stumble, and she did have a bit of trouble negotiating the steep slope, but we managed to get to the bottom without incident.

The lake was not that big, but was surrounded by high hills, ringed partially with rocky cliffs that went straight up from the water in several spots. We could hear a steady roar that echoed from the rock around us. The trees that we’d passed on the trail were huge, towering white pines, and there were many such trees on the hills around us. The whole area had a kind of prehistoric, untouched look to it, as though time had passed this area by somehow. The air was still and calm in the shelter of the hills, and when I dipped my hand in the water, I discovered it to be surprisingly warm.

Going back up the trail I found the best way was for me to hold onto Sam’s wrist chain to help her keep her footing on the steeper parts of the slope. I had the set of keys fixed to my belt and I was keeping an eye out for a good place to stash them. At the top of the hill, I spied a nice place. Sam leaned against a tree while I climbed on a big rock, then I walked along a fallen tree that leaned out away from the trail at an angle. Using a piece of wire, I tied the ring of keys to a branch up high, out of sight from the path. I made sure that they’d stay there; I made a note of the location, what was underneath in case the tree fell down some more. Sam watched me.

We went back for the boat, moving it to the top of the slope, then we went to get the last of the gear. Moving the canoe down the slope was as tricky as I expected it would be. I tied a long rope to it, then I had Sam brace herself and steady the boat, letting the rope out as I eased it down, stopping when the rope ran out, to have her move farther down. When we’d gotten everything down and loaded into the canoe, we set sail once more.

We paddled out into the middle of the lake and saw the island that would be home. But we passed it by for what we saw around a bend in the shore. From over the top of a cliff poured a rather spectacular waterfall, the water going straight down perhaps a hundred feet to splash into the lake below. We brought the boat closer and to a sandy shore beside where the falls were, stepping out and pulling the boat onto the beach. We both were speechless, taken in by the beauty of this area. Sam took off her shoes and socks and her skirt to wade out into the water.

“It’s almost warm,” she said.

It was nice, warmer than the lakes we’d passed through before, and clean, you could see down quite far in the water. You could probably drink it without any problems, but I had tablets to add to water that would make it safe to drink, and there was no sense taking chances.

Sam walked back to the boat, stripped off her tube top, then waded back out and dove in. I joined her a moment later, swimming out almost under the falls, feeling the force of the water pounding down from above. I found a place where I could stand, Sam came to me and hooked her chain around my neck, and we kissed each other with the roar of the falls in our ears.

I stepped through Sam’s ankle chain to let her bring her feet up behind me and she wrapped her legs around my waist. By rubbing herself against me, she quickly brought my cock to an erect state whereupon I reached under her leg to guide it into her. Fucking under water is not the best thing to do, because vigorous thrusting can push water up into a woman in a place that water should not go. Careful and gentle stroking however, combined with having her pressed close to me, and the rather exotic setting we’d found ourselves in all worked their magic on us, making our resulting orgasms spectacularly intense.

With Sam still wrapped around me, my dick still impaling her, I carried her to shallow water to let her disentangle herself from me. Then we lay on the sandy beach for a while, soaking up the sun while we came down from our high. After a nice little rest, we went back to the boat to see about setting up camp.

The island was far enough from the waterfall that the noise wouldn’t be too bothersome. Tall trees filled one end of the small island, a rocky hill took up the middle part, and the other end was mostly bare rock with a few shorter trees and small bushes. The most obvious place for the tent was a fairly flat spot near to the water and open to the full day’s sun. A fallen log served as a dock for the canoe. Someone had taken the time to build a table, rather crude but perfectly serviceable, near to the fire pit. Many of the tent pegs hit rock just an inch or two down, so I used short pieces of rope and heavy rocks to hold down the corners of the tent.

We set a tarp over the tent, strung up some lines for another over the table, then got busy on making lunch. Neither of us had dressed from our swim before, we’d only rubbed sunscreen over each other so we wouldn’t get burned in the afternoon sun. We hadn’t seen anyone since leaving the main route a day ago. I had little doubt that we would be undisturbed by other people during our stay here. After eating our soup and grilled cheese sandwiches, we just lay on the sun-warmed rocks at the end of the island.

“That last trail we took to get here,” I said, “it didn’t look like anyone had used it for some time. I didn’t see any footprints.”

“Such a pretty spot,” Sam said. “It’s hard to believe that it isn’t packed with people.”

“Well, you know what we had to go through to get here. I have a feeling we won’t be getting many visitors.”

“The local people must know of this place,” she said.

“I bet there’s lots of spots around this part of the country that are nice like this. Probably a lot easier to get to too.”

We did pretty much nothing but lay around naked on the rocks sunning ourselves, going in for a swim from time to time, and cuddling, holding each other close, relaxing.

Towards evening when the sun got low and the air cooled off, we put on some clothes, then made a start on dinner. I had Samantha slice up some potatoes and onions, fresh green beans, while I took the canoe over to the mainland to gather more firewood along the shore. Sam cooked the vegetables and I grilled a couple nice steaks over the fire, we had bread and wine, the rest of the apple pie for dessert.

After supper, I took Sam around the lake, letting her relax in the front of the boat while I paddled. Then, after taking a good wash in the water, we sat around the fire talking and listening to the radio until it was time for bed.

The first three days we spent much as any couple out camping would, save for the fact we were nude most of the time, and that Samantha had chains around her wrists and ankles. I was pleased at how well she took to having the chains on her, getting used to them so quickly and never once complaining about having to wear them all the time. She told me a few times how hot she felt walking around chained up like that, displaying herself that way for all to see, not that there was anyone else but me around to see her.

“This one is for you, Master,” she’d say, referring to herself, kneeling before me and presenting herself to me. My own sweet little sex slave, I’d think to myself. I was powerless to resist her charms.

There was sort of a path that led up to the top of the waterfall. It had looked like it would be a long hike, so I packed a lunch and we took the boat over, then made the climb through the forest and along rocky hillsides, ever upwards. Several times I’d have to carry Samantha, because she just couldn’t negotiate the fallen trees or the high steps over rocks with her short ankle chain. But we made it, sitting on a high hilltop eating lunch, looking out over a vast plain that the river flowed through to then tumble over the cliff and down into our lake.

One of the many highlights of the trip was diving off a rock perch on the side of a cliff and down into the deep water of the lake below. It would take about a half hour to claw our way along the side of the hill to the spot. Sam was keen to do it and she convinced me to try it with her. We stood side by side on the ledge about thirty feet above the lake, our toes hanging off the edge.

“Hit the water feet first,” she instructed me. “Hold your nose,” she glanced down, “and you better hang on to your balls too.”

“Uh huh,” I muttered.

She counted to three and we both leapt off, flying through the air before knifing into the water of the lake. Down I went, the water several feet below the surface as cold as ice. Then we’d surface, laughing and whooping, eager to go again.

The weather was cooperating, remaining warm and sunny by day, cooler at night, but not unpleasantly so. We found a couple of other trails around, short walks in the woods, not really leading to anywhere. The river exiting from our lake became impassable after a mile or so, blocked by a long stretch of rocky rapids. I searched for a trail that we could walk, to see what was on the other side of the rapids, but I didn’t find any easy way around, so we paddled back. I borrowed a line off the tarp and we did some laundry; cum-soaked towels and a blanket or two.

On the third day, I baited a hook, tossed a line over the side of the canoe, and snagged a lovely lake trout that made us a fine dinner. That evening as we sat by the fire, I could tell that Samantha was mentally preparing for something, looking towards me at times with expectation in her eyes. I knew that look, what it meant. I waited until she asked me.

“Master?”

“Yes, little one?”

“Master, are you going to put a lock on me tonight?”

“Would you like me to?”

“You said you would.”

“And so I did,” I said. “Which one would you like first?”

I got up and went into the tent, into my clothes bag to find one of her locks. I’d put tape over each one so they didn’t get accidentally locked being tossed around in the bag, and I peeled the tape from the hole in the lock as I returned to her. She had decided, I saw. She was sitting on her mat, her feet close together on mine. I lay down beside her, kissed her pretty little toes, then slipped the padlock through the links of the chain around each ankle and clicked it closed.

Samantha’s range of travel suddenly became limited to around our campsite, unless I decided to pick her up and carry her off someplace. Even sitting on the box privy took on a new meaning for her. Before, with the short chain between her ankles, she could barely manage to spread her feet far enough apart so her ass didn’t thump down on the rough seat. Now, not only did her ass bang down as she sat, but she had to slide it back a little across the seat, and getting up was indeed a struggle.

She’d shuffle her feet back and forth, trying to walk on the uneven rock around the campsite. She’d try hopping, but that was just as difficult to do. The loose chain would get underfoot, making her stumble, and she’d go down, calling for me to come and help her. I’d go to her and help her up, taking her in my arms and holding her close. She’d tremble against me, but not from rage or annoyance at her bondage. Not discomfort, not pain or fear. She’d press herself against me, making little mewing sounds. She needed that which I could give her. Freedom, yes, eventually. But it was my cock that she craved, for the master to take his little creature to his tent and ravage her, to carry his captive into his lair and roughly take her.

That first night with her feet locked close together, her lust for me increased tenfold. I’d barely even touched her and she was lost to it, writhing in the sleeping bag, moaning loud and crying out her need. I’d satisfy her, for a while, until her horniness built up again, her role as the helpless little animal captured her soul once more, and we’d fuck long and hard again. By morning, I was shagged out. Samantha had crawled out of the tent in the dawn light, leaving me to sleep in, I’d hoped.

“Master, Master. Help me,” I heard.

I went to her aid and saw her lying down on the rock, her ankle chain wedged into a crack in the stone slab. She was struggling to free herself, her hair plastered all over her, her body shaking. I went to her and calmed her down; she clung to me as I poked at the chain with a thin stick where it was wedged, shifting a link around so I could pull it free.

“Oh thank you, master,” she said, rubbing herself against me.

“You’d better calm down Samantha,” I said. “Disturbing my sleep like that. I’m going to have to punish you.”

I didn’t think that would get her to calm down any, but she did settle a bit. Her enthusiasm over her captivity was starting to rub off on me, getting me fired up to take this thing further than I had expected it would go. I was staring at a big tree over on the side of the island, and Samantha’s eyes followed mine, to a thick branch sticking out. A hanging tree, it was.

I picked up Sam and carried her to the tree, setting her down underneath the thick branch that was maybe twenty feet off the ground. I put her feet up on a rock and told her to wait, then I went to the rope that held up our food container. The plastic tote box had a snap lid that would deter any ambitious chipmunk, so I left it on the table, untied the rope, and returned to Sam with it. I’d picked up this rope before we left. Soft, thick, braided nylon. Three eights inch thick, forty feet of it. It was lightweight, and had been handy when we’d lowered the canoe down that last trail. It would be perfect now, as I expected it would be when I’d bought it.

Pushing Sam’s chains up her legs as far as I could, I wound the rope around her ankles three times, then passed the end between them twice and tied a couple of knots. The other end I threw over the branch, getting it on the first try. Smiling to myself, I wound the rope around the tree trunk a couple times, then, holding the end, I lifted Sam’s feet up into the air.

I pulled up the slack, then wrapped my arm around her legs to hoist her higher. Pulling the slack up again, I took hold of her around her waist and lifted, pulled up the rope, then again, raising her higher. Her head left the ground and I got my arm under her shoulder. Her fingertips left the ground and I pushed her up once more, then, keeping tension on the rope, I wound it around the tree a couple more times, walked the end to another, thinner tree, and tied it off. Samantha hung suspended by her feet, only the tips of her long hair barely brushing the ground as she swung back and forth slightly. There was a root from the tree partially uncovered right beneath her. I used a stick to dig under it a bit, until I could slip a rope underneath. Then I went to find a piece of rope. I tied the center of Sam’s wrist chain down to the root, pulling it tight, but not unbearable so. When I’d finished I stepped back to look. An absolutely amazing sight.

“Master?” Sam’s little lost one’s voice called to me.

I bent down on one knee to look directly into her eyes.

“Yes, my pet?”

She paused a moment, unsure. “Nothing.”

I reached up to brush her erect nipples with the backs of my fingers. Then standing, I said, “I’m going to finish my nap now. Don’t be making any noise.”

I went back to the tent and crawled inside. I’d tied the flaps open but the screen hung down. Although I had a perfect view of my little chained wood nymph hanging upside down from a tree, I doubted that she could see me. Obviously I wasn’t going to go to sleep, but I did lay there for perhaps an hour, maybe even dozing from time to time, but always on the alert for any kind of distress from my precious one.

I heard her chains tinkling and I opened my eyes to see her twisting and shaking. She stopped, and I noticed a rather large fly buzzing around her. It landed, probably on her ass, and a moment later she shook herself again, trying to rid herself of the bothersome insect. It was then that I decided that she’d had enough. I took up a piece of the newspaper that we’d been using to start fires with and I went outside. Pretending to be reading the paper, I strolled casually over to where she was tied. When she saw me, I said, “Good morning pet. Sleep well?”

“Master, this fly.” She twisted her ass to me.

“Mmmm? Oh dear!” I said.

I rolled up the paper and nailed that sucker, smashing the fly and then watching as a bright red spot formed on her bum where I’d hit her.

“Ouch! Thank you master.”

“Coffee would be nice,” I said to her. “Oh, that’s O.K. I’ll get it.”

I turned and left her, set up the stove and got some water going. I poured a glass of juice, sipped it, then strolled back to her. I held her head up and tipped the glass to her lips. She drank a few sips, upside down, then sputtered and choked. I dropped her head to let her deal with orange juice up her nose while I made the coffee.

After I’d made the coffee and had a couple sips, I figured she’d had enough. I untied the rope holding her hands down, then spread a pad under her and carefully untied the main rope. I unwound it from the tree trunk until her weight started to pull her down and I slowly let her down to the ground again. I carried her over to the table, laid her on the other pad, and gave her a cup of coffee.

“Did you like that, Sam?” I asked.

“Kind of. Got a hell of a headache, though.”

I got her a couple aspirins from the first aid kit, then we spent a couple of quiet hours inside the tent, catching up on the sleep we missed last night, a wet washcloth over Sam’s forehead. She felt better later on and I fixed us a nice brunch, the last two eggs, the last of the ham, and toast with jam. There was one more frozen meal left, now thawed, then we’d be into the freeze dried and packaged powdered stuff. Of that, there was a lot, so we wouldn’t have to resort to digging up grubs for a while yet.

The day was warm and humid, and we spent most of the time in the water. Sam couldn’t swim anymore with her feet locked together, but she could float with a lifejacket buckled around her middle, and that’s what we did. Later on in the afternoon, sitting on the rocks looking out at the lake, we started talking.

“Master, I’m sorry for making you mad this morning.”

“I wasn’t mad,” I said.

“For bothering you all night, I was just so horny for some reason.”

“It was nice, Sam. I wasn’t mad about it.”

“But what, then.” she asked. “Why did you tie me up in the tree?”

“I thought it would be fun. Didn’t you like it?”

“Well, yes, I did like it. But you looked so mad at the time, when you were lifting me up there.”

“Mad with arousal, perhaps. You’re getting so into your submissive role incited my dominant side to take over. I had an idea that I wanted to try, and I just went ahead and did it. I should have talked to you first about it. I’m sorry if I hurt you, but, I guess I did just let myself get carried away a little.”

“You didn’t hurt me, master. You have never hurt me.” Sam giggled. “Well, you know what I mean. You’ve never made me feel bad. Except for this morning. I thought you were pissed off at me and that’s why you hung me in the tree.”

“Damn,” I said. “You know what this is, don’t you? All the time we’ve been together, all that we’ve done together, this is our first misunderstanding.”

“Are we having a lovers’ quarrel?”

I laughed. “No, not yet. I should have told you first, what I was going to do. But doms get into the same kind of head space that subs do, you know. Only instead of letting go like you do, we have to seize the moment and take total charge. Take over completely. I treated you like an object this morning, and I shouldn’t have. I wanted to do something to you, and I went ahead and did it. Your not letting me sleep last night was just an excuse I used to let myself do it to you. I am sorry, Sam. I should have talked to you about it first.”

“Please don’t apologize master,” she said. “I understand now. I did like what you did, I was just upset because I thought you were mad at me.”

“Look at yourself Sam. You’re naked and chained up. I hold the power to get you out of here. How could I ever be mad at you, for letting me hold your life in my hands? For your giving yourself so completely to me? The gift of your self, Samantha, there is none so sweet.”

Our relationship’s first crisis, smoothed over so pleasantly. As the skies began to darken, so too did Sam’s mood brighten. The weather reports had called for a change, and that change became apparent soon after. We took another swim, prepared an early dinner, and ate while waiting for the storm. The sky got darker, the wind picked up, although in the shelter of the hills around we didn’t get much of it. Up on the hills though, the trees were whipping around fiercely. I’d made a fire and we sat under the tarp, listening to the booming of thunder getting closer and closer.

When the rain came, it came with a vengeance. Carrying Sam, I made a dash for the tent, then we held each other closely, the lightning flashing down, the thunder echoing from all around. With us being in such a low area, I expected that lightning wouldn’t get to us, and even if it missed the hills and came down to the lake, the taller trees at the other end of the island would draw a strike away from our campsite.

The lightning quickly passed by, but the rain was unabated for some time, and we cuddled in the warm dry tent while it pounded down on the tarp over our heads. Samantha squirmed around, slid her wrist chain over her feet, and brought her hands up the backs of her legs, to the middle of her back. She lay on her side, her back towards me. I said to wait for a while, to let the worst of the storm pass, just in case we ended up flooded out. To pass the time, Sam began to grind her bum against me, grasping for my cock with her hands behind her, trying to find a nice warm spot to put it into.

We had a nice slow fuck; her on her side and me snuggled up behind her. I had hold of her wrist chain to force her hands up high, between her shoulder blades, and I held her like that as I teasingly stroked my stiff prick in and out of her slippery channel. She came hard, her hands grasping at air behind her, her feet clutching one of mine, and she shook and writhed, screaming out with her heat, her lust.

Later on, the rain slowed to a steady drizzle and we put on clothes, raincoats over top, and went outside to take pisses and survey the damage. The boat was all right, the fire pit was drowned out, and pretty much everything else was as it should be. The roar from the waterfall was definitely louder now. We went to bed early that night, the radio telling us that the storms had been fierce in some places, even reports of a tornado in a town not too far away. It was only eight thirty when we called it a night, but with little else to do, we caught up on some much needed rest. I’d been having second thoughts on putting any more locks on Sam, and I expressed my concerns to her.

“The keys up in the tree could have gotten melted if lightning hit them,” I said. “Then where would you be?”

“Chained up like a beast, I guess.”

“Exactly. Tomorrow morning I’m going to go and get them. Then we’ll continue, O.K.?”

While I’d been talking, she’d been busy getting her hands behind her back again. She wriggled her fingers at me. “Just one more, master?”

Once again, the quest for adventure won out over common sense. I took a lock from my bag and clicked it closed through the chains around her wrists.

“No fucking, alright Sam?” I told her. “Let’s get some sleep.”

Sam did manage to keep her hands off me until early dawn. The light was just beginning to be visible when I was wakened by her feet rubbing against my leg and her hands rubbing my cock, her bum pressed tight against my hip. I could feel her twitching and shaking next to me and she was making little moaning sounds. She was already ready. My rolling over towards her elicited a squeal of delight, and she strained to insert my erect cock into her, nudging it with her fingertips until it lined up, to then slip into her.

What a nice way to wake up, I thought, and I started banging into her. Sam reached her peak on my fourth or fifth stroke, bucking and twisting so hard my cock was dislodged from her. That didn’t stop her though. The sleeping bag was not zipped up and she rolled right out, face down in a tangle of blankets and she ground her tits into the rough wool as her orgasm went on. I sat up to watch. When she finally stopped humping air and realized I was not inside her anymore, she slumped down on the floor of the tent, gasping air like a beached fish. I shifted her hair off her face and her eyes fluttered open to look at me.

“Master,” she said between breaths.

“Yes, my pet?”

“Good morning, master.”

“And good morning to you, sweetheart,” I said, sweetly. Sam struggled to her knees, then made it back onto our bed. She knelt upright, turned her head, and looked at me over her shoulder. I got up onto my knees and positioned myself behind her, straddling her legs and feet. I took my cock in one hand to run the tip through her wet slit. Sam moaned long and low, her hands clenching and unclenching behind her back. I shifted a little closer, then she sank down taking my length up inside of her. We both lowered ourselves until I felt my balls touch her heels, then slide down the soles of her feet. We just stayed like that for a while as I reached around her and caressed her breasts, rubbed and pinched her nipples, occasionally letting a hand stray down her tummy to finger through her pussy hair, and lower still, to flick across her clit. With a finger on either side, I could feel my cock buried up to the hilt in her, her two pussy lip rings on either side of it.

She raised herself up and I placed my hands on her hips to guide her movements. I grabbed a pillow and placed it where her head would go, then she bent over, letting her face thump down on it. Her ass went up and I rose up onto my knees to begin to pump into her with fast, deep strokes. Grabbing the loose chain between her wrists and using it to steady myself, to hold her still, I started to really give it to her. I didn’t stop when she came, I drove into her with a firm, steady rhythm while her cunt muscles gripped me tightly. Her hands before me twisted uselessly in the chains that held her tight, and she screamed loud with passions unleashed.

Even as she came down from that great orgasm, I banged her. Her lust quickly came to a boil again and she exploded, me holding tightly to her chain with one hand now, the other wrapped around her waist so she didn’t buck me off her, and still I maintained that quick, hard stroking, riding the wild beast through another massive cum. My cum was boiling now, my balls felt heavy with it. I was giving voice to my thrusts, loud grunts and yelps. Like a huge lightning bolt it was, starting out somewhere deep in my hindbrain, gathering strength. Then blasting down my spine, electrifying every nerve in my body, total annihilation in its wake. It blasted out of me, taking all of me along with it. Deep within my lovely Samantha’s body I flowed. My arm around her waist crushed her loins tightly to me as I came and came, my knees finally giving out and we collapsed into a sweaty heap on top of the sleeping bag. My heart was hammering in my chest and I could barely pull enough air into my lungs, so wasted was I. I lay on top of her for what seemed like forever, unable to move, unable even to form a coherent thought, just madly, totally in love with the sweet, chained, creature beneath me.

Finally I gathered the energy to roll off her. Sam was choking on her hair, so I blindly reached out, felt around her head, to move the veil of silky strands from off her face. I lay on the floor of the tent, panting and wheezing, trying to return to the living.

“Fuck Sam,” I managed to gasp out, “you’re gonna be the death of me yet.”

“The death of a thousand fucks,” she answered breathlessly. “That last one must have counted for fifty.”

“Damn near. Whew!”

[part 3]

It was mid morning before we finally got going. I had to do everything for Sam now, carry her to the toilet, wipe her pussy, bring her back. I put some clothes on her, a skirt and her light poncho. I braided her hair and tied the braid up double so it was out of her way.

“Master. In my bag, could you get me one of my birth control pills?”

I found the package for her.

“Master. Could you give me two, I forgot yesterday.”

“Sure, Sam.”

My thoughts were on getting the keys to her locks, on whether I’d see a blackened piece of wire where I’d left them. I made some coffee, cooked some porridge for breakfast, held the cup so Sam could drink the coffee, and spoon-fed her her food. After I’d cleaned up, stashed the food, and loaded Sam into the canoe, I paddled us the length of the lake to the trail that led out of here.

“This was a bad idea Sam, having your hands locked like that. You can’t do anything now.”

“I know master. But it’s nice, though.”

“You’re supposed to be the slave, Sam. Not the pampered pet, making me wait on you hand and foot.”

“Are you mad at me again, master?”

I laughed. “Actually, no. I like having to wait on you hand and foot.”

It wasn’t hard to spot the place the trail started; there was a big circle of muddy water around it. Sure enough, the heavy rain had made a royal mess of the path. The steep slope, treacherous enough when it was dry, was now a slippery, gooey mess. I left Sam in the canoe, tied to a tree, the boat that is, she was locked up in chains and wasn’t going anywhere, and I began to make my way upwards. As if the mud wasn’t bad enough, couple of big trees had been blown down across the trail, and I had to climb up over one, duck under the other. When I got to the top and found the branch where I’d tied the keys, they were still there, twinkling at me in the morning’s light. I reached out, untwisted the wire, then fastened the ring of keys to my belt. I’d brought the long rope with me, and at the worst part of the trail, I tied one end to a tree, then used it to steady myself as I made my way back down to Samantha. When I got back to the boat, I jingled the keys at her.

“Ta-da!”

Damned if I didn’t see a flicker of sadness cross her face when she saw her keys safely with me. In order not to disappoint her, I left her feet locked together and her hands locked behind her all day.

“Master?” she asked during lunch, when I’d made no move to release her.

“Yes, my pet?” I said, holding a spoon full of soup before her.

“I thought you got the keys so you could let me go.”

“I said I wanted to get the keys, I didn’t say anything about letting you go. Are you complaining?”

“No master. I thought…” Then she caught on. “I wanna be let go right now,” she said in a singsong voice.

“Oh dear,” I said.

Sam finished eating her soup through the bit gag. After we’d finished lunch, I put Sam in the boat and I paddled over to the falls. Around the bend in the lake we saw that the size of the waterfall had almost doubled from what it was before, runoff from the lands above, fed from the storm. I had made sure Sam’s life jacket was securely buckled around her middle before we set out. With her hands and her feet locked together, she couldn’t hope to swim, and with the bit locked between her teeth, she wouldn’t be able to close her mouth against the water; she’d fill up and sink like a rock if we went over. I didn’t get too close to the falls either. As we watched, a big up-rooted tree came over, teetering on the edge for a moment, before crashing down into the lake. There were many branches, big and small, floating around the base of the falls, testament to the forces unleashed by yesterday’s wild weather.

“Lucky that we had such a nice sheltered spot,” I said. “Wouldn’t want to have been camped out in the open yesterday.”

“Uggk.”

The water around the falls was cool and it was like someone shut off the hot water tap in our bathtub. A definite sign that summer was drawing to a close. Back at camp, we swam in the shallow water around the island, or at least I did. Sam bobbed. I stayed near her while we were in the water, keeping a hand on her, making sure she didn’t float away.

Supper that evening was dried chicken and rice from a package, but I’d also hooked a small perch, so we had both, with some hot biscuits, cooked in the frying pan before I did the fish. Sam sat on a pad beside the table while I prepared dinner. When I was almost finished cooking, I stopped and looked at her.

“Nukk. Shhukk.”

“Yes, my pet? Would you like to be let go?”

“Mmmmm.” She even managed to smile around the bit. I got her keys from the food box, where I’d hid them, and I began with her feet. I opened the lock between her ankles, then I opened the one for her hands. Sam’s wrists sprang apart and she let out a little grunt as the muscles in her shoulders complained about having to shift to a new position. After she’d sat down and brought her wrist chain under her legs and over her feet, I unlocked her gag. Her hands lay limply in her lap while she worked the cramp out of her jaw. I gave her shoulders a quick rubdown.

“How are you Sam?” I asked.

“I feel good Sir. Thank you.”

“Let’s eat.”

The rice dish was ready and I quickly fried the fish fillets in a little butter, then we sat down to a nice meal. I let Sam do the cleanup afterwards.

It got colder that evening so I built up a big fire to keep us warm. The forecast was for unsettled weather for the next few days, with colder temperatures. I asked Sam how she felt about leaving.

“I could stay here with you forever master,” she said. “But I know we can’t. If you think that we should go, than we’ll go.”

“There’s only a couple more freeze dried meals left,” I said. “There’s biscuit mix, and cereal. Noodles and cheese. I could go for a Big Mac, extra fries.”

“Or a pizza?”

“Chicken and ribs.”

“And fries?”

“And gravy on the fries.”

It was decided; we’d leave in the morning. Later on, in bed, Sam asked if I’d lock her up, tightly.

“You’re not going to sleep too well,” I warned her.

“That’s O.K.”

“You’re not going to keep me up all night, are you?”

We only had the light of the candle in the tent, but she saw my grin.

“I’ll try not to, sir.”

The bit gag went on first and I had her put her hands behind her back, so I could lock her wrist chain to the chain on the gag. Her hands were at the middle of her back. I used a lock to lock her ankles together. I used another to connect her wrists together and I brought her feet up so her heels touched her bum, then I hooked the loose chain from her ankles onto the lock at her wrists, taking out all of the slack, and clicking the lock closed. That left me with one lock left, and I looked for a place to put it.

“Mmmm. MMMM!”

If Samantha tried to bring her feet down, the ankle chain would pull her hands down and the wrist chain would pull the bit tighter into her mouth. She rolled from her stomach to her side, then over onto her back, laying on her feet and hands. Like that, her feet were pressed tighter to her bum, giving her a little more slack, but her head was pushed up causing the bit to get pulled tighter into her mouth.

“OAAAGGGH!”

She rolled back over, onto her chest. She began to fight the chains with the rubber bit clamped tight between her teeth. She crossed her ankles and spread her thighs apart. Her labia rings twinkled in the feeble candlelight, and I’d found the place for the fourth lock.

“Hold still Samantha,” I said in a commanding voice.

I put my hand on her ankles and pressed her feet to her bum, giving her slight comfort. The lock was big, her rings small. Carefully I slid the shackle through them both, gently I pressed the lock closed, then I laid the body of it against her flesh, and let it go. Samantha lifted her hips up a little, letting her pussy lips take the full weight of the lock.

“Mmmmm.”

I didn’t like the way her most delicate flesh looked, stretched by the heavy lock, but she didn’t seem too troubled by it. She lowered her pussy down to let the lock rest on the blanket, then lifted herself up again, letting the rough body of it slide slowly across her clit, letting its weight pull on her labia. She closed her thighs tightly together, trapping the lock between them, pressing its bulk hard to her. Her strict bondage and the gag wedged deep within her mouth now suddenly seemed easier for her to endure.

Sam began to slowly roll her thighs together, shifting around the big lock pressed against her pussy. She opened her legs a bit to let it drop down on the blanket, then slowly humped her hips up and down as the lock rubbed against her. All the time her hands and her feet were twisting within the taut chains that were pulling on the bit gag in her mouth. She’d lift her head up, push on the gag with her tongue to get it seated between her teeth, then clamp her mouth down on it and ride the lock some more.

I sat cross-legged on the floor of the tent, just watching her struggle, touching her at times, feeling wonderment at this beautiful beast in her valiant fight to bring herself off. It didn’t really take long at all before she was thrashing wildly; her thighs clamped tight together, trapping the heavy lock to her, cumming like there’d be no tomorrow. I lent a hand, guiding her motions, ready to catch the lock if she let it loose, not wanting her to hurt herself, which would be quite easy for her to do with the way she was so tightly bound. I slipped a hand under her and felt the juices pouring out of her, feeling the hard lock poking out from between her clenched thighs, vibrating almost, with the power of her cum. She was locked tight in the depths of an endless orgasm, shaking and writhing in the chains, screaming loud around the bit.

Finally, I could feel the force that gripped her loosen slightly, her shaking slowed, the tension in her chains decreased, and she began to sink down, exhausted, onto our bed. I pressed down on her feet to give her some relief from the pull on her mouth. I had the keys handy and I tried first one, then the next, getting the right one on the third try. I opened the lock at her wrists to let her lower her legs.

When Sam at last returned to the land of the living, I had her open her legs and I took the lock off her rings. After finding the right key, I held the lock closed so it wouldn’t pop open and smack her, then I turned the key while slowly letting the shackle spring open.

“Nnunnss.”

“Was that nice, Sam?” I asked. “Did you like that?”

“Mmmm.”

I had her roll over onto her side and I got in behind her. By stroking her breasts and nuzzling her neck around the chain, it didn’t take very long before she was ready to go again. I slipped my cock up into her. Sam had pretty well worn herself out before, but she did manage a weak orgasm when I came, jerking her hands down, trying to grab me, yanking the bit tighter into her mouth each time.

After we’d finished, I opened the lock on the gag, releasing her hands along with it. I leaned over and blew out the candle and we slept for a while. Sam’s hands were free, but her wrist chain still held them behind her back. At some point in the night, I woke needing to pee. Sam followed me out into the chilly night air, she knelt just outside the tent with her feet out behind her and relieved herself, then duck walked, or duck shuffled was more like it, back to bed. She got her hands back in front of her, I zipped up the tent and the bag, piled blankets over us, then slept like a rock till morning.

The first thing I did the next morning was make a big fire. It was bloody cold. I went over the map with Sam during breakfast.

“We’ll get out of here, but make camp not much further along,” I said. “I don’t know how hard it’s going to be getting the stuff up that hill, the trail looked pretty bad yesterday. Might take a while.”

“O.K.”

I looked at her. She looked glum. We’d piled on all of our clothes and Sam had a blanket wrapped around her as well. “What’s wrong, Sam? You don’t look very happy.”

“I’m O.K. Just a little sad that we’re leaving.”

“We can do this again next year if you want.” Her mood brightened a bit at that, whether it was from thinking about another trip, or hearing me say we’d still be together next year, I was unsure. I knew, however, that I would never part from my lovely Samantha.

We got going, eventually. After taking the tent and tarp down, we packed everything into the canoe. I poked through the fire pit, taking out the bits of foil and metal tops from frozen juice tubes that didn’t burn. I went around the campsite, removing all traces of our stay, leaving the place as pristine as we’d found it. I stashed the bag of garbage into the boat and we were off.

The slope wasn’t as bad after having a day to dry out. Not as slippery, at least. The rope I’d left there made it easier for Sam to climb up, then I tied the canoe on and she pulled while I pushed. We got it over the fallen tree, with the higher one that leaned over the trail I had to use my saw, to cut a few branches off underneath, to make a tunnel we could slide the boat through. I bundled a lot of our gear in a tarp and we hauled that up, then I made another trip for the last few items.

Down the other side and to the river, we paused to wash off the muck from our legs and load up the boat. Sam got in and I pushed it out, then climbed in. From the little bay, I steered north and west, away from Shangri La. The river seemed higher, the current stronger, but we were travelling with it so it worked to our advantage. Sam didn’t have to paddle, I only had to steer the boat, laying in a couple strokes every now and then as we floated along between the high hills. I played out my thick rope into the water to wash the mud off it. In a couple of spots, tall trees had fallen into the river, blown over in the storm. One blocked the way so we had to get out to negotiate the boat around it. Around mid afternoon, we reached the long narrow lake we’d camped at on the way in and I called a halt.

“If we camp here, we can camp again after the long portage, like we did on the way in,” I told Sam. “I’m not in a big hurry to get back, are you?”

“No. That sounds good.”

I got a fire going while Sam put together a pot of noodles and water for lunch. She made the macaroni and cheese while I set up the tent. We mixed up some dough to make pan fried hotcakes, having a few with jam later on.

“How long have we been out here anyway?” I asked. We counted it up. Our six-day trip had somehow stretched into nine days now and we still had a ways to go.

“God, Sam,” I exclaimed, “you’ve had those chains on for nine days now? Are you alright?”

“God, Jim,” she said mockingly, “I’ve never felt better.”

“You must be sore, not being able to stretch out properly.”

“I am a little. But I’m not complaining,” she quickly added, not wanting to get the gag.

I laughed. I wasn’t going to gag her. I was interested in hearing how she felt, and I asked her to tell me.

“I’ve always wondered how it would be,” she said, “to be chained up for a long time like a prisoner in a dungeon or something. I’d fanaticized about it, thought about what it would be like. But this,” she shook her hands, making her chain tinkle, "this trip, it’s all been so nice, really fantastic. We had a good time, and you’ve been so kind to me.

“When you’d make me walk through the woods carrying stuff, I’d imagine that there’d be someone behind me with a whip, whipping me to make me walk faster. Even in the boat today, all I could think about is how I was chained up in a boat and being taken someplace, somewhere where something bad was going to happen to me.”

“Those are dark thoughts, Sam. You know I’d never let anything bad happen to you.”

“I know you wouldn’t,” she added, “and I don’t really want to have something like that happen. On the last trip, you whipped me every day. Each time was better than the last one. It was wonderful, Jim. This time you only spanked me a bit that one time. I know you said you didn’t want to do it, that you don’t think it’s right. I’ll understand if you don’t want to, but could you? Before we leave here?”

“Beat you with a stick?” I asked.

Sam smiled. “Or with your belt.”

“It’s not that I don’t want to, Sam. I told you I didn’t think it was right, but it’s not that I don’t like doing it to you. Watching you, on the last trip, I had no doubt that you enjoyed it, and even when I spanked you the other day, I saw how turned on you got. It’s when I’m doing that, whipping you; it’s hard for me to know when to stop. It’s difficult to keep myself in control. I’m afraid that I’ll go too far and really hurt you.”

“I trust you Jim, you know that. You told me that I’ve put my life in your hands out here. That first time, in your basement when you whipped me? You said you’d only give me as much as I could take. That made me feel safe so I could not worry so much and just enjoy it. Last night when you chained me up so tight, with the gag and everything, it was awesome. Every time I moved it hurt, all over. But, you know, when I was cumming? All I could think about was if. . . Well.”

“Go on,” I coaxed

“If you’d been whipping me too.”

I sat for a while, digesting what Samantha had told me just now. She looked anxious, as if she had talked too much, had perhaps pushed me too far.

Finally, I spoke. “Sam, I’d hoped that the bondage alone would have been enough for you on this trip.”

“It has Jim. I’ve really liked being chained up for all this time.”

I went on. “I enjoy giving you pleasure, more than you know. Seeing you like that, all hot and bothered, and knowing it was my doing that got you that way, it’s great. You’re one of those types that can turn pain into pleasure. You need it, and it’s something you’ll have to be careful about. Pain slut is a term I’ve heard, pain junkie is another. It’s the endorphins that the body releases when under attack or in pain. It can get to be like a drug that you find you can’t live without. Drugs can destroy someone’s life, but drugs can be taken in moderation too, and if you can live with keeping it under control and not letting it control you, then we can come to some kind of arrangement. I’ll give you your pain Sam, all that you can handle. But I won’t let it ruin you. You can have what I give, but you have to trust that I’ll know when you need it and when to give it.”

Sam thought for a moment. “I love you master,” she said.

“This might be our last night with no people around,” I said. “Do you want to make it special?”

Sam asked me if I had something in mind.

Oh, I had an idea, all right. “It’s going to involve you hanging upside down from a tree,” I said.

I set Sam busy with fixing supper while I scouted a location for the scene I had in mind. A little ways into the bush, I came across a clearing of sorts and the ruin of an old building of some kind. Just a few logs left, an old cabin it could have been. It was in a low valley so we’d be hidden from view of the lake, and the area was pretty clear except for one tall tree, a thick branch sticking out about twenty feet up. Just when you need something, it falls in your lap. Isn’t life grand?

There was a swampy area with a small stream a little further back in the woods. I scraped clean an area for a fire near to the tree. I knew you’re not supposed to make fires except in a fire pit in a campsite, but this was an emergency. The park rangers would understand, I thought as I worked. I gathered up dead wood from around, then I went back to our camp site for supper. While we ate, I filled Sam in on the details of the plan.

“There’s a place not far from here,” I said. “We’ll go after dark. It might get cold tonight but I’ll make a fire to keep me warm. You’ll be hanging from a tree by one foot.”

“Won’t that hurt?” Sam asked.

I gave her “the look.”

“Oh.”

“I’ll make this good for you Sam. I plan to have fun, too. I won’t be hitting you too hard, but I think it’s going to be a long session.”

I’d seen that image on the net someplace, maybe in one of those Japanese rope bondage sites. A girl hanging from one foot, a rope tied around her ankle. I was trying to think if the rope hung on the inside or the outside of the foot. A foot can turn inwards, but not the other way. I went to Sam, who was doing the dishes down by the lake. I had her sit and I took her foot in my hands, feeling around her ankle and twisting her foot. I used her chain, putting it on one side, then the other, pulling on it a bit.

“The outside,” I said.

“What?”

“Oh nothing,” I said. “Just checking.”

We sat around the fire after supper, Sam’s anticipation, and mine, growing. The air wasn’t getting as cold as it had the past few days. Another sign that the gods of bdsm were looking down upon us. Finally, when it started to get dark I stood up, then began to gather up the things I’d need.

I had Sam wear only her thicker poncho, no shoes, no skirt. Her hair I brushed out, and left loose down her back. I made her carry the coil of thick rope. There was still enough light that she could see the path ahead so she didn’t step on any sharp rocks or sticks along the way. We walked over the hill and down into the valley.

Sam gasped when she saw the tree, the only thing in the little clearing. I took the rope from her and shook it out, then tossed the end up over the branch. I tied the end to her wrist chain, then hoisted her arms up over her head. I walked the other end around the tree trunk a few times and tied it off. Then I got busy starting the fire. I sat with my back to her while waiting for the flames to catch, and I thought about what was about to occur. Finally I got up and went to her. I could see in her eyes she was getting aroused, and I detected a little trepidation in there as well.

“We’re going to use a safe word this time Sam,” I said to her. “You know what that is?”

“I say a certain word and we stop.” she replied.

“We’ll pause,” I told her. “We’ll stop the scene and I’ll ask you what’s wrong. If you want to change something and continue, I will. I don’t think your foot’s going to get injured from this, but if you feel it’s getting torn off you tell me, O.K.? We’ve still got a lot of walking to do tomorrow, or the day after. You might need to rest up tomorrow.”

“All right.”

“The safe word is “Safeword”. O.K.? If you need to use it, I’d better hear it.”

“Yes sir.”

“Good.”

I untied the rope and lowered her hands. I untied it from her chain and told her to take off her poncho, then I tied her wrist chain back on and hoisted her hands up, higher this time, stretching her until she was up on her toes. Then I tied her off. While there was still a bit of light remaining, I left her there while I went off into the bush to find some sticks.

It didn’t take me too long to find three nice sticks, each a bit thicker then the other. I set them at the base of the tree, then went over and tossed some more wood on the fire. Before it got totally dark, I took a coffee cup and went to the swampy area behind us. There, I scooped up some of the black, mucky clay, putting it into the cup and returning to the tree once more.

All that was needed, I thought, was some eerie music, a group of Druids chanting or something. A scene from the TV show Xena came to mind, an Amazon ritual of some kind. I took my shirt off, kicked off my shoes. Put more wood on the fire and stood, swaying slightly as it caught and blazed, hearing the unheard rhythms of something primitive. I didn’t look at Samantha, but she was probably staring at me as though I’d lost my mind or something.

The sounds of the crackling fire in the still night air would do. I bent low to snatch the coffee cup of slime and with three bold steps I stood before her, looking deep into her eyes. Slowly, I scooped up two fingers of muck, then drew them across my bare chest, making a line. I painted another line of goo across my forehead and two vertical ones down my cheeks. My eyes never left hers.

Two more fingers of the black, sticky clay and I made a line from Sam’s left shoulder, down the inside of her breast, and down to her navel. Another scoop, and down her other side making a curved Vee shape. I daubed some muck over each of her nipples, then set the cup down by the base of the tree.

“Master?”

“Quiet!” I said. “The captive shall not speak.”

I picked up the thickest stick. I’d snapped it off a dead tree and it was dry, no give to it at all. I had no intentions in hitting her hard with it; there’d be only a deep pain and much bruising if I did. Sam’s eyes grew wide as I approached her with it and I put it around her in the small of her back, grabbed the other end, and used it to draw her body tightly against mine. I pressed my mouth hard to hers, forced my tongue past her teeth, and kissed her passionately. I used the thick stick to run up and down her body, hitting her lightly in places, poking her with it as if I was tormenting a beast of some kind. Sam’s emotions cycled between arousal, fear, and annoyance when I’d stop and let the stick lay against her skin, pressing it into her flesh, letting her feel its presence. I’d pause like that for long minutes with my eyes closed, listening to the beat of the log drums in my mind.

I was unsure of the time. I opened my eyes and looked up. The crescent of the new moon was rising over the swamp behind us. I moved to the base of the tree, set the stick down, and untied Sam’s rope. Her hands dropped and she stumbled a bit, caught unawares by the sudden change in her stance. I moved to her, guided her down to lay on the ground, her bum beneath the branch. I untied the rope from her chain, then tied it around her foot using a French bowline knot. This is a normal bowline knot, sometimes called a rescue knot, but the rope goes around the load three times, lending more of the rope’s surface to spread the strain over more of her ankle. I placed the rope around her right ankle and fed the end through the twist. I wrapped three turns around her ankle and through the twist, then around behind and down through, adjusted the loops, and pulled the knot up tight. I positioned the knot along the outside of her foot. I raised her foot up, and with her short hobble chain her other foot had to follow. I pulled the slack, then walked the rope around the trunk of the tree. The bark was rough on this tree, so I got enough friction to hold her weight with one turn. Hooking my arm around her leg, I raised her up and pulled the rope. As before, I got Sam up off the ground, lifting her and pulling up the slack in the rope, keeping tension on it while I reached to get an arm around her again. I raised her up until her lovely long hair was free of the ground. Then, keeping the rope tight, I walked it around the tree a few more times until I reached the end and slid it under a turn to tie it off. I turned to look.

Samantha was hanging from the thick branch by one foot. Her other leg was bent slightly, the foot tethered to the higher one by her ankle chain. Her body made a slow revolution as the rope settled with her weight, stretching a bit, the strands untwisting a little. Just enough to turn her around once and let me get the full effect. I was drawn to her. I had to lay hands on that deliciously erotic vision before me. I stepped up to her to gently, reverently touch her thigh. I felt the muscles in her leg quivering with the strain. I ran my hand up to her knee, her calf, stretched tight. Her other leg hanging from the chain felt soft, loose. Her thighs were parted slightly, and in the firelight I could see her pussy lips, the shiny rings, her obvious arousal.

I’d told myself that I’d push this thing straight through, and a big part of me wanted to take up the switch and begin. But I felt such empathy for my pretty captive creature, plus, I just wanted to know. I got down on my knees and faced her. I looked into her eyes and spoke. Quietly, I asked. “Are you all right Sam?” Sam’s face was very red with the blood pooling in her head. I was having the opposite problem, but never mind.

“May the captive speak?” she asked.

I chuckled softly. “Yes. Tell me how you feel.”

“It’s not as bad as I thought it would be, Sir. I feel the pull on my foot, but it’s not hurting me.”

“That’s good, yes?”

“Yes. Sir? It’s hard to think with the blood pounding in my head.”

“Is that bad?”

“I…No.”

“Good.”

She was deep into that special place that only a submissive person knows, or can truly understand. Softly, I touched her lips with my finger. My eyes were drawn to the lines of mud I’d painted on her chest earlier. As I stood up, I followed them. A big arrow pointing upwards, to her center. I placed a finger there, between her thighs, between the lips of her pussy. I rubbed her a little there, feeling her heat and her wetness. I felt Sam’s hands touch my knees, then her fingers started to work their way up my legs. I should have locked her hands behind her, I thought to myself. But then they’d just be in the way later. She reached for the zipper of my shorts and I stepped back away from her.

“The captive shall not touch!” I said loudly.

Sam’s hands dropped and she brought her foot up to close her legs. Her chains tinkled as she moved. She’d been taken aback by my sharp command, and she was unsure as to what was happening or what she’d done to incur my wrath. I stood waiting. Her foot lowered to the chain’s limit after a few moments and I gazed hungrily at her open slit once more.

Stepping behind her, I pushed my face between those lovely thighs and touched my tongue to her clit, inhaling her heady musk. Sam’s thighs trembled as I slowly drew my tongue through her slit, tasting her sweat, mixed with the bittersweet tang of her heat. I placed my hands on her thighs, pressing to open her wider, then I feasted on her delicious center. Hooking my tongue through a ring, I pulled it into my mouth, stretching the skin, then nibbling on her chewy lip. I did the same to the other one, biting down as hard as I dared on that soft flap of skin, hearing only a low growl of lust from Samantha. Except for that initial, brief contact, I avoided her clit. This scene was not about getting her off. Well, it was, but not in any traditional sense. I’d be pushing limits this night, my own. Of what Samantha’s limits were, I still had no real clue.

I licked her pussy furiously, drawing the lips into my mouth and flicking my tongue across the slippery inner surfaces, pushing in as deep as I could go. Then, broad strokes of my tongue, lapping at her from asshole to just short of her oh-so-sensitive clitty. She’d buck her ass back, trying to gain that extra quarter inch, and I’d lift off for a few seconds, driving her mad with frustration.

When she was just on the edge, just about to cum, I stepped back and away from her, leaving her swinging slightly as she pressed her thighs together, twisting and writhing in a futile effort to cum. I waited as she came down, until her foot dropped, snapping the ankle chain tight, and she hung still, breathing hard, moaning occasionally with need.

I went to the fire and threw on more wood. Then I took up a stick, the thinnest one. I stood to her side, listening, to that strange music, the beat of drums, in my head. The drumbeats reached a crescendo, and stopped. The logs in the fire shifted, the wood popping once, twice, loudly, sending a column of sparks high into the air. I swung the switch hard striking Sam’s ass cheek square across, making her yelp in surprised pain. Without giving her a chance to adjust to the shock, I swung again. And so it began. This was a nice stick I’d found, good and springy, lots of snap to it. Over and over I smacked her. Her motions set her swinging and twisting on the rope, presenting me with new targets as I simply stood there slashing out with the stick. I was barely even aware of where my blows were landing. With her strung up like she was, there was an ever present number of juicy targets available for the switch to seek out. I fell deep into my role as The Thrashing Machine, the giver of pain, torturer of flesh.

Sam had cum, I was vaguely aware, soon after I’d begun. Her screams of passion loud in the still night air, a jet of girl cum arcing from her pussy, dribbling down her body. The wood in the fire popped again, sparks shooting high, my arm swinging in an easy rhythm, painting red coloured lines across her beautiful skin. Back and forth, upwards, downwards. I worked the stick over her. There was something we’d talked about, I was thinking. A safeword. Was that it I was hearing? No. Sam was moaning gibberish punctuated by loud shrieks as another massive orgasm ripped through her. She kicked out with her free foot, snapping the hobble chain tight, the steel links ringing sweetly. I reached up and slashed down, the spring of the wood following the arch of her sole, contacting the bottom of her left foot in a stinging line of exquisite fire. Again I slashed her there, following her foot upwards as her leg spasmed and straightened. I stretched to smack her other foot, the one caught by the rope, and she shook, kicking out hard to the extent of her chain, cumming hard again.

It continued without pause, my slashing at her writhing form hanging by one foot from a tree. My lovely Samantha’s body, her legs, even on her arms, criss-crossed with nasty looking stripes. With the dim firelight, I would not know the true extent of the damage till morning’s light. And so, somewhat oblivious to what I was really doing, seeing and hearing only the fire in Samantha reaching heights ever higher, us both playing our appointed roles to the hilt, it continued.

I felt and I heard the fibres of the stick in my hand begin to let go. I stopped and felt along its length. There was a soft spot near the middle where the wood had split open. Walking in a trance-like state to the base of the tree, I paused.

The fire had burnt down to embers with just a few feeble licks of flame left, flickering pitifully. I turned to Samantha, saw her hanging there, and heard her sobbing softly. Her breath hitched in her chest as she moaned, trembling, and her body reacted to the hurting in the only way it knew how, by pushing another tiny cum through her exhausted body.

I took up the flashlight to shine it upon her. The sight that greeted me shocked me to my very core.

“Oh my God,” I mumbled softly. “What have I done.”

Her skin had small cuts in several places, tiny spots that had leaked a few drops of blood. She was crossed with bright red lines everywhere. She hung lifelessly now as I played the light over her and I began to grasp the real extent of what I’d done to her. But as I bent down to see her face, holding the light between us, her eyes flickered open and she looked at me. Her eyes held the spark of the universe in them, bright, happy, ever so alive.

“M…Master?”

“Yes, little one?” I managed.

Her body trembled and she smiled, a little aftershock shook her.

“Master. Safeword.”

I’d brought a soft blanket, which I spread, out under her. I got the rope untied and slowly, carefully, I lowered her down. It was as I was untying the rope from her ankle that she lifted her head, wincing in pain as she did so, and spoke to me.

Her low, husky voice, strong and steady. “It’s so beautiful, Master. Thank you. Thank you.”

“Sam, you look a mess,” I told her. “I think we’ve gone too far here.”

“Oh no, Sir. You were wonderful. It’s all absolutely perfect.”

“We’ll see how you feel in the morning,” I said. “Let’s go.”

I gently bundled her up in the soft cotton blanket and, leaving everything except the flashlight, I carried her back to camp. There, I set Sam down near the water. I had the fire prepared and I lit it, then got a washcloth from inside the tent. Sam was sitting up when I returned, and I wet the cloth in the cool lake water, then began to carefully clean the dried mud, sweat, and blood from her. After I’d cleaned her off and examined her more closely, I saw that the places she was cut weren’t quite as bad as I’d first thought. It wasn’t good, but at least I felt there’d be no real permanent damage. Sam was wide awake as I cleaned her, touching me gently, lovingly, her eyes dancing, bright with life.

I felt around her ankle where she’d been strung up and she groaned softly. I pressed my fingers in a bit and she groaned louder. I’d hurt her there and I could feel a bit of swelling beginning. Dipping the cloth in the cool water, I laid it on her ankle, under the chain. I daubed some antibiotic cream on her injuries, rubbed her everywhere else with the skin lotion I had while she drank a glass of juice I’d given her.

I moved her closer to the water and had her sit so she could soak her foot in its coolness. A little later on, we were sitting around the fire, bundled in blankets, talking.

“Are you feeling better, Sam?” I asked her.

“I’ve never felt better. That was really nice, Jim. Thanks.”

“You must be sore.”

Sam giggled. “Everywhere. That’s what’s so nice about it; everything hurts as much as everywhere else. You’re really good at it, Sir.”

“Hrump,” I grunted. “We’ll see how it looks in the light of day.”

“Sir?”

“Yes?”

“Thank you.”

“You’re welcome, Sam. Samantha?”

“Yes sir?”

“I love you.”

“I love you,” she answered.

It must have been the middle of the night when I carried Sam into the tent and put her to bed. I gave her another gentle rubdown with the skin lotion and it seemed to help ease some of her pain. Her ankle that she’d been hanging from had swollen up a bit more, and I kept a close eye on it throughout the night. If it swelled too much, her chain would tighten up on her and strangle her foot. I had the hacksaw blade in the tent pole in case I had to cut her chain off, but I was hopeful that it wouldn’t come to that. I soaked the washcloth in cool water again and wrapped it around her ankle.

I slept on and off throughout that night, laying beside my sweet girl, my poor tortured little creature, or sitting alone out by the fire, wondering how things had gone as far as they did in the clearing behind us. I ran the scene through my mind, watched myself grow ever more callous in my actions towards her.

I’d given her an out, the safeword. But it hadn’t been until the end, until after, and she must have realized that I was stopping the scene, that she’d said it. She, I began to realise, had given me the out, had permitted me to stop.

Could she have taken more? Was she left wanting more? Had I unleashed a monster within that beautiful girl that had become more precious than life to me?

The chirps of birds signalled the end of night and I noticed a faint glow in the eastern sky. I went to her. Feeling around her ankle, my cold hands waking her. She stared lovingly into my eyes.

“Morning gorgeous,” I said.

Sam winced as she shifted to a sore spot, or a spot more sore. I felt her ankle had swollen bigger, the chain around it snug, but not yet dangerously tight. My hands infused coolness into her injured foot as she warmed me.

“What time is it?” she asked me.

“Dawn,” I said. “Early. Go back to sleep.”

“Need to pee,” she stated.

I helped her up and out of the tent. I supported her as she squatted outside and relieved herself. I helped her to her feet and she tested her ankle a bit. It didn’t seem like there was anything too seriously wrong with it, certainly not broken. Slightly sprained, perhaps. I held her as she hobbled down to the water to soak her foot in the cold water.

Now, with the brighter light, I could better see the pains I’d caused her. Two of the spots where I’d cut her skin had bled a little more and I fetched the antibiotic cream, some tissues, and a roll of tape. I bandaged Sam in four or five spots before I was satisfied, She, watching me, looked upon me with such love and devotion that I had to pause and kiss her tenderly.

“It’s all right, master,” she said in response to the worried look I had.

“I know Sam,” I said.

I didn’t like to see her all marked up like that. But she had wanted me to do it, and there’d been no doubt she’d derived great pleasure from the session. Who was I to deny her that? I made her a glass of juice and gave her a couple of aspirins while she soaked her foot in the lake. Later on, I carried her back to bed, laying down beside her, feeling her, feeling the rough welts upon her precious skin. Sam slept, as did I, after a while. Hunger woke me at some point and I carefully got up so as not to wake Samantha. I pulled on some clothes and went out to make some coffee. Finding only one cup, I remembered having left things back at the tree in the clearing behind, so I went to get them. Over the hill and at the top I paused, staring long at the tree I’d hung Sam from, the thick rope still looped over the branch. I slowly walked towards it. The campfire, a ring of ashes left. Trampled down grasses and plants. The place had a feel to it now, you could sense something evil happened there. I pulled on the rope to bring it down and coiled it up. Sam’s poncho, thrown carelessly aside. My shirt. I used a branch to scatter the ashes of the fire, attempting to erase the evidence of that scene last night, trying to diffuse the thoughts running through my mind. I gathered up the things I’d left and returned to camp. Sam must have heard me bustling around. While I made the coffee, I heard her chains jingling. A minute later, I saw her come out of the tent. She smiled when she saw me, then wandered off to the toilet. I watched her hobble back and come to me, then she placed her hand on my arm.

“Sam,” I began, “I’m sorry for…”

She raised her hand, placed a finger on my lips. “Please, Master,” she said. “No more.”

“But.”

“No,” she said. “Yesterday I asked you to do something for me. You did it and made it the most beautiful thing. Better than I ever imagined it could be.”

“I?”

“Yes, you,” she interrupted, "and me. You did to me what I wanted you to do. Yes, I’m sore now. My foot hurts, hell, I hurt all over. But the pain will go away, the marks will disappear over time. But the memory of what happened, the way it made me feel, inside, it’s something that’s burned into my soul forever. We might never do that again. I hope that I get the chance to feel those feelings again some time, but if not, I still have the memory of last night within me. I’ll carry those memories with me until the end of time.

“This week, this trip, it’s been the most fantastic week of my life Jim. Everything has worked out so well. I don’t want to see you feeling bad about last night, I want you to share in the happiness and the peace that I’m feeling. Please?”

Sam let the blanket she was wearing slip from her shoulders and fall to the ground. She knelt down naked upon it. Knees spread apart, hands on her thighs, her chain hanging in front of her pussy. I managed to crack a smile.

“You’ve got band-aids stuck all over you,” I said. I handed her my coffee and knelt beside her. I began to peel the makeshift bandages off her. I was starting to see her, the markings on her skin, in a different light now. Not as marks of shame, for she felt no shame in displaying herself to me. More as badges of honour, I began to realise. That she would honour me so as to submit herself to my lash, and that she could be so at peace with both me and herself at the conclusion, made her markings something very special. She would heal in time. A couple weeks perhaps, and all traces of it would be gone. But our time in the clearing last night would be a shared experience that would bind us both together for a long time to come. After I’d got all the tape off her, I rolled it into a ball and tossed it at the fire.

“You’re right Sam,” I said to her. “I have to tell you that I did enjoy our time last night. I guess I was just feeling a little guilty at perhaps taking so much pleasure at your expense.”

I took her hands in mine. "Seeing you hanging like that in the tree, you looked so beautiful, so vulnerable. Men have been conditioned for centuries not to do things like that to a woman. Anyone seeing you chained up like this, they’d think “Oh look at the poor girl chained like an animal, we must save her from an evil fate.”

“It doesn’t matter that we’re a happy couple, it’s “Bad”. Anyone witnessing that scene last night, they’d call the SWAT team down on my head. “Kill the monster” they’d shout, jab me with their pitch forks, drive me into the swamp.”

That got her laughing.

“You see?” I asked. “How can I think it’s O.K. to hang you upside down and whip you with a stick in the face of criticism like that.”

“Master?”

I smiled. “Yes?”

“I’m hungry.”

The sun was high, it must have been noon. I got some clothes for Sam and then looked through the food box. Finding a freeze-dried beef stew I dumped it into a pot of water and then mixed up some biscuit mix. Sam cooked the hot cakes in the frying pan over the fire since we’d run out of fuel for the camp stove. When the stew was heated, we ate. The swelling in Sam’s ankle had gone down somewhat, the chain around it was a little looser than before. Around mid afternoon when the sun was warmest we took a wash in the lake, then dried off and went to bed. I lay on my back, Sam climbed on top, her knees around my ears and her feet up above my head. She slid herself down an inch or two, pressing herself to my face as she took me into her mouth. Her legs looked like those of a zebra, red and pink though, rather than black and white. I marvelled at the evenness of where I’d placed the marks. I could remember not even looking, just doing it by feel, almost a sixth sense taking over as to where to hit her next. Marvellous, it was truly wonderful.

Samantha kept squirming around on top of me, trying to gain a more comfortable position. She’d shift herself this way and that, but she had whip marks all over her and after a while she quit moving around to just concentrate on the task at hand.

I was busy too, licking that delicious pussy of hers. She’d take my cock deep and grind herself against my mouth, shuddering as a little ripple of pleasure flowed through her. Then she started working my cock with a purpose, ready to bring me off. Sam’s cunt was wet but she’d not yet cum. Was she in pain I wondered. Pain wouldn’t stop her from cumming, I knew that. She was holding back, waiting for the master to cum first. Eagerly I attacked her pussy with my mouth, sucking her clit in and swirling my tongue around it. I was close now. I was bucking my hips up in time with her, pushing myself deeper down her throat.

It began as a tingling in my four corners, my fingers and toes. It gathered steam, then came together in a great rush, blasting into that sweet creature on top of me. I came, followed a heartbeat later by Samantha. Her cunt seemed to open up, threatening to swallow me, and she writhed upon me as I pushed my tongue deep into her, her nectar flowing down my throat as mine pulsed into hers. Sam rolled off me after a while and we lay there, coming down from the rush. Her feet were near to my head and I took them into my hands, softly stroking them with my fingers. I looked at the bottoms, two red lines on one, one on the other. I traced the marks with a fingertip. Sam’s toes curled around my finger and she smiled at me.

“You’re beautiful Samantha,” I said.

“Thank you master.”

That evening I dug some worms from under leaves in the woods, tied some fishing line to a hook and a stick, then took the boat out and caught a lovely bass. I cooked the cut up fish in water with instant potato flakes, powdered milk, and half a nasty looking onion I’d found wrapped in foil in the food box. The fish chowder turned out not half bad.

We listened to a far away baseball game on the radio that night while sitting by the fire. Sam wasn’t hobbling as much now. She was still hobbled by her ankle chain, but her foot wasn’t as sore, she wasn’t limping like before.

“You feeling O.K.?” I asked.

“Better,” she answered. “My ankle is better now. Still sore everywhere else though.”

“We’ve got that long hike tomorrow,” I told her, “feel up to it?”

“Don’t worry, I’ll make it.”

“I have a saw blade that can cut metal,” I told her. “I could get your ankle chain off you, if you want.”

Sam looked at me in surprise. “You have something here to get my chains off? I thought the idea was that I’d be stuck like this for the whole trip.”

“If you fell and broke something, you saw how your ankle swelled up. I wanted to be sure I could take care of you. That’s all.”

“Oh. You’re right, Jim. I see now. Always be prepared, is that how it goes?”

“Someone as precious as you, yes.”

“No,” Sam said. “I started out with these chains on and that’s how I’ll leave here. And Jim, thanks for being prepared.”

Next morning we had a quick breakfast of oatmeal, then packed up and left. We paddled the long lake to the mouth of the river leading to the portage. When we came to the beaver dams, we found that the storm runoff had taken out sections of the first two, making a space that the canoe could pass through with little problem. On the third dam, the boat got hung up, but by pushing with both paddles I got us over it. We only had to get out into the water to haul the canoe over the last one.

Along the little stream and we found the start of the long portage.

Sam made two trips half way, down hill this time so it wasn’t too bad. I thought we’d get to the main trail and stop, letting her rest while I went to get the remaining things. When the gear was together we did the other half along the wider main part.

There really wasn’t anything quick to eat so we skipped lunch and pressed on. It was around mid afternoon when we reached the lake and made camp on the little island we’d stopped at on the way in. I got a fire going for Sam to make macaroni and cheese and hotcakes. I set up the tent. Clouds had rolled in during the afternoon and now the sky was covered with them, dark rain clouds. It wasn’t hot and muggy so I doubted that we’d get lightning. The small island would give little shelter during an electrical storm since there were only a few tall trees and they were all close around the campsite. We finished eating, then stripped down and had a wash in the cold lake water. Just as we were finishing up the rain came. I stuck the wet towels under the canoe, them made a dash for the tent. As the rain pounded down around us, we sat cuddled together looking out, warm and dry in our little nest.

“Two more short hikes and we’re out of here,” I said. “Back to civilization. Miss it?”

“A little,” Sam said. “Miss having a good meal served to me in a nice restaurant.”

“Yesterday’s fish soup wasn’t bad.” I stated.

“No salad, no pie and ice cream for dessert.”

“No crunchy bread sticks either,” I said. “Just those tasteless biscuits.”

Sam laughed and I hugged her close. The rain tapered off to a steady drizzle and we made slow, gentle love for the first time since the whipping. It was different now than before. Sam had such a calm peace within her still, leftover from that supercharged experience hanging in the tree. Even her manner of speaking was different. Calm, more sure of herself. A serine contentment with herself, with me, and everything around her.

I got on top, careful not to press down too much on her, and we fucked, slowly and gently. Samantha didn’t get all crazy like she usually did. She took it, letting the feelings build up, savouring it as one would a fine wine or a brandy. I watched her as it built to a peak within her, then it overtook her. Almost a slow motion Samantha cum it was, not the yelps and frenzied motions but a smooth transition from girl, to something else. Something celestial, something that transcended the here and now, passed beyond, to a more heavenly state of being.

Her orgasm gripped her, but did not control her. Her cunt gripped me tight, slowing my strokes, and she opened her eyes to me. They seemed, not the pale blue as before, but a deeper, sparkling blue. She spoke. “It’s so beautiful,” she said. “Cum with me master.” There was little else I could do. A power seemed to flow from her to me and I came. A torrential cum that left me completely drained. I’d rolled off her and onto my back. Sam was on her side, her hands on my chest, stroking me lovingly. The rain had stopped, the sun was out. Sunbeams slanting through the trees and shining into our little love nest. All was right in the world.

Later on, we sat by the fire, listening to tales of woe on the nightly news reports, a world far removed from our quiet little island.

Next morning, our last one in the wilderness, we ate big bowels of hot oatmeal, the last spoonfuls of jam giving it some semblance of flavour, then packed up and hit the water. We came to the portage around the marsh and loaded up with as much as we both could carry. I was walking ahead when I spotted something out in the marsh. Perhaps two hundred yards away, on a spit of land across the open water I saw them. A momma bear with three young cubs.

Quietly I set down the packs I was carrying and signaled Sam to move slowly. I pointed to the bears.

Samantha set down what she was carrying and moved to my side on the open trail. Two cubs play-wrestled with each other while the momma and one young one stripped leaves, or maybe tasty berries, off a low bush. We were upwind of the marsh and moments later the mother caught our scent. The big bear’s head picked up and she sniffed the air, her beady eyes scanned the shoreline, wary of danger. Momma bear barked a low growl and the two youngsters stopped their play to look at her. I took Sam’s hand in mine. The big animal seemed to stare right at us, but I didn’t think bears could see far all that well. It took perhaps a minute before the animal began to sense we’d pose no danger to her young and she bent to finish stripping the bush, keeping an eye on both Sam and I, and her young.

I whispered to Sam, “Come on, lets go.”

We gathered up the packs and continued on along the trail. On the way back for the boat we looked, and just caught sight of the four bears heading back into the forest at the far side of the marsh. Managing to carry the canoe and the rest of our gear inside it saved me having to make a third trip back. The last portage went just as well and in the early afternoon we rounded the bend in the big lake to catch sight of the parking lot, my Jeep sitting forlornly in the shade at one side.

The boat grounded out on the sandy shore. My car keys were in my clothes bag so I took it up first. I found them, opened the truck and clicked the power locks. Samantha was at my side. I reached under the passenger side seat to find the wrench and the screwdriver. I had Sam sit down. I took her hands in mine, we looked into each others eyes. No words were needed.

Sam’s feet were dirty, one ankle bruised and still a bit swollen. Her arms and legs had red marks on them, her hair was dirty and tangled. She looked absolutely, radiantly beautiful. I was pleased with myself for having pulled this trip off so successfully, and I felt such fierce pride in my wonderful girl, for enduring so well all that she’d been put through.

It took me a while to get the chains off her. I started with her hands, fitting the wrench to the nut of the quick links with the screwdriver through the link to hold it. The ones for her ankle chain gave me more trouble since water and sand had got into the threads to jamb them up. I sprayed a bit of penetrating oil on them and worked the nuts back and forth a few times to free them up.

After being chained hand and foot for twelve days, Samantha was finally free. She stepped out of the truck and stood in the deserted parking lot, spread her arms wide, slowly, moving her muscles in a way they hadn’t moved for some time, and smiled a wide smile at me. Samantha came to me and gave me a big hug. She stepped back to put a foot up on the Jeep’s fender and stretched her leg, hiking up her skirt, flashing her bare pussy at me. Later on we got our stuff in the truck, the canoe on top and tied down, and I drove up the park road to the little town at the end.

Two grubby, bedraggled people entered the motel office, got a room for the night, then took well needed, hot showers together. Two clean, happy people left their room, walked down the hill to the bar and had a delicious big meal. We stayed at the bar for most of the evening, eating, drinking, basking in the afterglow of a very nice vacation.

I saw the park ranger come into the bar and I waived to him. He joined us for a couple beers.

“I was getting worried about you two,” he said. “Saw your Jeep still at the end of the road this morning, wondered if you were O.K.”

“The weather at the beginning was so nice we stayed longer than I’d planned,” I said.

He asked how we fared when the storm hit. Apparently there was quite a bit of damage here in town and around the area. I told him that the hills around the lake spared us the worst of the winds.

“That was a nice spot,” Sam said.

“I go there myself sometimes,” the ranger told us. It’s out of the way, peaceful, quiet."

He caught sight of Samantha’s bruised up ankle. “You hurt your foot honey?”

“Twisted it on a trail,” Sam quickly said. “It’s not too bad now.”

I said, “We really had a nice time. Everything went well. Had to take a day off on the way out to rest after my friend hurt her foot, but it wasn’t a big problem.”

“Well I’m glad to hear that,” he said. “Hope to see you folks again next year.”

The park ranger left us to join his regular drinking buddies. We stayed a little longer, then left the bar to walk up the hill to the motel. I watched some T.V. cuddled next to Sam on the bed, we were asleep shortly after.

We ate huge breakfasts at the diner across the road next morning. Eggs, bacon, sausage, home fries, toast and jam, lots of good coffee. It was ten before we drove out of the town, on the road back home. I stopped for gas and once more for lunch, we made it home in the late afternoon. Samantha helped me unload the truck and I offered to do her laundry. She took a handful of fish pellets out back to my fish pond, saw her fish there happy and well.

“Do you want to stay here tonight?” I asked her.

“Sure.”

I ordered a pizza for dinner. We did a few loads of washing, got things put away. Sam found the two chains that she’d worn for the entire trip, and came to me with them.

“Master?”

“Sure Sam.”

On Monday of the following week, I landed myself a new job after twenty minutes of work. The local newspaper had an ad looking for someone qualified in network database management. They’d recently merged with another paper in a town nearby and needed to organise the two offices into one. I updated my resume and printed it out. I took it and my laptop to the office, then got an interview right away. I managed to impress when I plugged my computer into a phone jack and called up the hospital database I’d worked on, and still had access to.

“These are patient records but we won’t go there,” I demonstrated. “Here is the medical database where doctors can look up almost anything, medicines, desease symptoms.”

I made my pitch to the newspaper’s manager and the editor. “Say something happens and you’d like to know if it happened before. Or you wanted the history on a building in town. I could set up the archive editions as a database or we could subscribe to one of the big news archives. A reporter at his desk could have access to information world wide.”

That evening I was told I’d got the job. Next day I met Samantha in the city and took her out to dinner. Later on we celebrated back at her apartment. We talked a little more about her moving in with me. She had another five months on her lease, but with the tight rental market her landlord would probably be more than happy to have her leave so he could jack up the rent for someone else.

I was busy for the next few weeks with the new job and trying to get back into the hustle and bustle of life on the outside of the quiet wilderness. I’d see Sam in the city or she’d stay at my house for a couple days. Three weeks after we’d come back from the trip she spent the weekend at my place, her two chains on her the whole time. We had a wonderful, relaxing weekend. Some great sex too.

In hindsight, I should have known. I can read a calender after all. Samantha called me on Tuesday to come over to her place. She’d sounded nervous, or worried about something. She sat with me on her couch and spoke those three little words that have struck terror in men for generations.

“Jim, I’m pregnant,” she said.

[ End Chapter 3 “The Ad” ] dino@canoemail.com