The Box

THE BOX

CHAPTER FOURTEEN

Hampstead Heath station is the deepest on the London Tube at one hundred and ninety feet below ground. The tracks that run under the Heath itself are nearly two hundred and twenty feet below the surface and at roughly four hundred and sixty feet above sea level the Heath is also one of the highest points in London, along with Crystal Palace, Alexandra Palace, Primrose Hill and Forest Hill.

None of this particularly bothered Linda Hutton at eleven fifteen on a wet Thursday evening in October, but the wind that ravaged the scrub and seemed likely to freeze her to the spot, certainly did.

They were well off the beaten track, which was just the way she wanted it, in a fairly large copse off Parliament Hill Fields that seemed quiet and deserted. The night sky was full of scudding clouds and there was no sign of the moon.

The more Linda pulled the hooded and handcuffed Liz and the more she stumbled or stopped or even hesitated so the more her excitement grew. Here she was pulling a bound and gagged victim to a fate that she knew absolutely nothing about and it thrilled her to the bone.

She had done things with Sarah. Consensual things, some of them very heavy, very draining emotionally, but they had all been at Sarah's insistence. She didn't know if Liz would consent to this or not but, more worryingly, she didn't care.

She respected Sarah's limits. She respected Sarah and she would never knowingly do anything that she openly objected to. But what did that say about her feelings toward Liz?

The tree had been perfect. Not a leaf on it and very few branches. If it wasn't dead or dying it was certainly in the process of doing so. Linda had pushed Liz against the slim silver birch. Pushed her hard. Heard twigs break under her booted feet

She had been tempted to take her boots off and to make her walk barefoot through the mud and the general detritus of the Heath but she had thought better of it, knowing that she could seriously injure herself and that tetanus would be the least of her worries.

She hit the tree with a thump and it shook. Before she could recover her senses and already disorientated by the hood and the blindfold, Linda was behind her, the key to the cuffs in her hand. She opened them and pulled her wrists behind the tree then she closed them, elated somehow by the smoothness of the ratchets and the satisfying noise they made as they rasped home.

Liz was now handcuffed to the tree. She still hadn't moaned or grunted or made any kind of noise, not even when she had stumbled and nearly fallen over.

And the less noise she made so the harsher Linda had treated her, wanting her to try to cry out through the pear shaped monstrosity that filled her mouth.

Wanting her to struggle or object.

Wanting her to do anything that suggested she was trying to fight this. This loss of freedom. This outrage.

But she didn't

A doormat

Someone you could walk all over and Linda hated them. Hated them more than anyone could possibly imagine. To her a real submissive was a real pain in the arse!

Everyone had his or her limits.

Everyone drew the line somewhere, Sarah certainly did and she respected her for that.

But Liz, Liz had just let her do what she wanted.

Those sort of submissives really creeped her out, they were the people who worried her. A lot of her friends were switches. In other words they could take it and they could also dish it out, but she didn't have Liz figured for one of those.

Liz was a taker and that drained you. Drained you mentally and physically.

With a switch there was always a dilemma. How far could you go? What could you do before she would come right back at you? But ultimately the Liz's of this world, the takers, the doormats, left you listless and stagnant.

But that was in the future and although she would hate herself for it, right now there was nothing more exciting to her than topping a genuine submissive.

Once.

Once and only once.

After that she would have to be discarded.

Dropped.

Gently at first.

And then if that didn't work she would have to be harder and tell her some home truths.

She DID hate herself sometimes, but then so does everybody at some time or another.

Liz was still upright . Her head parallel with the tree trunk. Linda wished she had a whip with her, but she didn't normally go equipped to tie people up and beat them al fresco, at least not these days, and there was nothing immediately to hand that she could use without doing her some serious physical and mental damage. She had thought briefly about stinging nettles applied to her breasts and maybe even her crotch and although the thought had appealed to her, she had discarded it, or at least she had mentally put it to one side.

Nettles would sting and they would cause the skin to blister and the blisters would itch. For a few days they would itch terribly and it made her moist just thinking about it… but she couldn't…. could she?

The thought of it, the very thought of undoing Liz's jeans and pulling them down then pulling up her jumper and unhooking her bra leaving her naked from ankles to neck apart from her panties and chastity belt, tied to a tree with her big and only slightly saggy tits visible. The very thought made her shiver with anticipation

Then with Liz still handcuffed, still gagged and hooded, she would unlock the belt, which she should be able to do without disturbing her knickers, and then…

Mmm, and then she would just cup her hand to Liz's crotch through her panties. She had a feeling in the back of her mind that even out here and even in this wind she would be able to smell her excitement and probably even see it!

The thought of seeing that wet little CK thong excited her. The thought of seeing the crotch dark with the results of her arousal would probably drive her wild and all she had to do was ease a couple of fingers into her crack with the thong still in place and tease her a little.

Maybe finger fuck her for a while, easing that silk thong in and out of her wet hole until she had to, she just fucking had to, moan and groan and try to beg.

And then she would withdraw her fingers and leave her high and dry whilst she studied those panties, those dark, moist panties

No! Not moist! Soaking! They would be fucking soaking!

And then when Liz was least expecting it she would unceremoniously rip those knickers off her. Leaving her shocked and confused…and wanting more

Bare skin on raw wet pussy. Sopping wet pussy. Fragrant, warm, aroused pussy and there would be no preamble, she would just slide her fingers straight in and finger fuck her and finger fuck her until she was screaming as best she could through her gag and Linda's fingers would be pistoning in and out of her willing snatch and then as soon as the screams reached a certain pitch, whey they reached a certain level of muted and frustrated agony, she would dive right in.

Regardless of how wet the ground was she would be on her knees, smelling that pussy, breathing it in. Smelling Liz's excitement mingled with her fear. And then she would move forward so that Liz could feel something. Something indeterminate. Something, Linda had no doubt that she had never felt before.

The soft warm breath of another woman against her fanny!

And she would brush against it, teasing her and tormenting her. If this were in another place and at another time, it would please her to keep it up for hours. A kiss here and a touch there. Tongue on her clit. Warm breath on it. She knew for a fact that that could be absolutely excruciating. Just breathing. Breathing gently against her clit and maybe a touch or two, very occasionally and perhaps as a little treat, and better still, a lick or two.

Linda shook her head. She was back in the here and now and she was already on her knees on the wet ground. It had occurred to her some time ago that she was going to have difficulty explaining their absence and their undoubtedly dishevelled appearance when they finally arrived at the studio, but still she didn't care.

There was no time for niceties, she decided against undoing her chastity belt yet and so Linda stood up and slipped a hand under Liz's jumper, stroking her tummy and then grasping the bottom in both hands and pulling it up around her neck and shoulders.

The bra was very easy. Flesh spilled out of it at the sides suggesting that it was either bought too small or Liz had put on weight. It was the same colour as her thong and it unclasped very, very easily.

Or maybe she was getting better at it.

It was dark in the little copse. Dark and very quiet. The noise in her ears was her own heart, apparently thumping away. Otherwise it was quiet, the odd owl, the odd noise of something scampering through the scrub but apart from that nothing and despite the fact that there was no moon it was light enough to see.

London is never really dark now. Not even there, four hundred and sixty feet above the River Thames. Not even on the darkest of nights. There would always be that pink glow of pollution everywhere.

She realised that both she and Liz were scratched from the various shrubs and bushes and branches that she had scrambled through and Liz had been dragged through.

"Well gel," She thought to herself, looking up briefly at the hooded and silent figure "At least your hair won't be in same state as mine!"

She had the urge to bite those slightly saggy tits. To just tease the nipples with her teeth. She was very close to Liz and just bending forward to bite on a nipple when she heard it.

A low quiet sob followed by a shaking of the shoulders and then more sobs.

Linda took a step back, reeling in shock.

She had reached her limit!

She hadn't even had the sense to give Liz a safe word or sound.

Cursing herself, despising herself, she took the few paces over to her discarded bag and fumbled around in the dark for the key. On reaching Liz and grabbing at her wrists she was mortified to see that they were chafed and bloody and that small patches of skin were already hanging off.

They key didn't slip in as easily as it should, perhaps because there was a slight tremor in her hands, but it went in eventually and the ratchets sounded and the cuffs opened just as smoothly as they had closed. She put them in the pocket of her jacket and then began to undo the collar and the helmet.

Unbuckling the collar was easy enough but, in order to take off the helmet she had to worry the gag out of Liz's mouth, pulling and teasing until it eventually popped out, huge and slippery with saliva. Only then was she was able to pull the hood off with relative ease.

Liz's head fell forward, her hair covering her face. Stricken with remorse Linda held her and tried to rub some circulation into her raw right wrist. She wasn't sobbing any more and it was some seconds before Linda could say anything.

"Liz! Liz look, I'm sorry, I'm really sorry!" All her thoughts, all her bad thoughts about Liz vanished now. All she could think of were the possible consequences. Liz could go to the police. She could press charges…

"Liz…" Still she didn't move. Still she said nothing, "Liz for fuck's sake…"

"Fuck? FUCK NOTHING ! FUCK YOU! YOU FUCKING BITCH!"

Liz had raised her head and tossed it to take the hair out of her face, she was staring into Linda's eyes now. Linda hadn't expected her to be like this, jaw set, eyes wild and staring.

Wild with anger, there was no fear there, just raw pitiless anger.

Linda was stunned and she was even more stunned when Liz raised her knee and bought it up, hard, into her stomach.

Caught off guard, Linda fell backward, trying to reach out at the same time to save herself, but Liz didn't want her saved.

She didn't see the punch, and it WAS a punch and not a slap, that knocked her onto her back. A hard uppercut that cracked her jaws together. That made her literally see a flash of white light as it connected.

She knew she was falling and she knew that she couldn't stop herself.

She hit the wet ground with a thump and tried to roll, tried to roll away from Liz, but that wasn't what Liz wanted.

A kick.

A hard kick to the face that Linda's movement managed to deflect and then another and another. She bought her arms up over her head to try to ward off the blows but then Liz was on the ground beside her pulling at her hands and then pulling at her hair.

She had a clump in her hand and she ripped at it so fiercely Linda thought it was going to come away from the scalp

Once, many years ago, Linda had seen a pub fight. A fight to which the police had been called and she had had no option but to watch as a young policewoman had attempted to calm down one of the participants, a man whose eyes reminded her of Liz's right now. Seeing that he was beyond calming down she had tried to arrest him and before her colleagues could reach her he had literally ripped out a handful of her hair leaving everyone in the vicinity covered in blood from the profusely bleeding scalp wound.

Liz had let go of her hair but only for a second. Linda knew that she was trying, really trying, to rip it from her head and now her self-preservation mechanism seemed to kick in, because before, where she had felt pity for Liz, she now regarded her as an enemy and in the past Linda had had lots of enemies.

She had despised Liz earlier because, more than twenty years ago, that had been her. A doormat, someone who could be pushed around, manipulated, trampled on, but not any more. Linda had learned to fight and fight hard but not always cleanly and her next move took Liz by surprise.

She hadn't had a chance to cover herself up and her breasts were exposed. She was angry and she had a lot of raw strength, not quite enough to tear Linda's hair away from her scalp but Linda's sudden movement almost did it for her.

Her head shot forward and before Liz could defend herself she had bitten hard, very hard into her left nipple. Liz screamed but she would not let go of Linda's hair so Linda opened her jaws a fraction and bit down with full force.

This time Liz's agonised scream was soul wrenching but Linda didn't care, she almost expected to taste blood in her mouth, but she didn't. Her other hand was now wrenching at Liz's right nipple twisting as hard as she could and under that onslaught Liz had no option but to let go of Linda's hair allowing the taller of the two women to scramble to her feet.

But now Liz was up too. She kicked high, just missing Linda's nose. Linda went into a crouch, locked both hands together and swung her joined fist with all the strength she could muster into Liz's belly. She groaned and crumpled at the waist.

"You're a big woman but you're out of shape!"

Linda didn't know why she said or where it had come from. It was a line from a film she had seen a long time ago. The taunt only served to enrage Liz who threw herself at her and swung a punch that connected with Linda's nose this time. It didn't break, she knew how it felt when your nose was broken, but she could feel the blood running from it already.

Despite the gloom Liz could see the blood, she could see that she had hurt Linda and she moved in for the kill.

Another punch.

Why did this bloody woman punch instead of slap like most women?

This time it caught her just above the right eyebrow and it split the skin, the soft delicate skin there. Blood oozing from her nose and now from the cut above her eye Linda knew she had to finish this right away. She saw her bag on the floor and, knowing that it was too late for dignity, threw herself onto the muddy ground.

She hit a particularly wet area and felt the mud splatter all over her but she didn't care. She was just reaching inside the bag when she heard Liz behind her, breathing heavily, cursing her.

"You fucking bitch. You dirty, fucking, no good, fucking, bitch!"

She only got a brief glimpse of the branch in her hand. It was short and stubby. It wouldn't kill her but it would certainly add to the damage Liz had already inflicted on her.

She just managed to roll away before the branch came crashing down onto the spot where her head had been moments before. When she had delved into her bag blindly she had, by pure luck more than anything else, found the cold, smooth shape she had been searching for.

She knew it was wrong and she knew that it wasn't fair, but to lose right now was unthinkable. Liz was a novice and although she herself had made mistakes tonight there was no telling what Liz might do with the things she had available to her. She had to win and it didn't matter how.

.

She thought it was a device used only in fiction but she was desperate.

She rolled over again, plastering her clothes in mud and, as she did so she scooped up a handful of the stuff with her free hand and then struggled to her feet, muddy, bloody and knowing that she was going to ache all over tomorrow.

Liz was waiting for her. She seemed to have taken stock of her situation and seemed to realise that she had hurt Linda quite badly. She stood now, breasts still bare, hair tousled and clothes nowhere near as muddy as Linda's with the branch still in her hand.

"Want some Bitch?" The accent had slipped. It had taken a long time and lot of emotion but all of a sudden Linda realised that She and Liz might not be as far apart as she had originally thought.

Breathing hard Linda threw her a glance, but she didn't have time for pleasantries now.

"Put the branch down Liz and we can talk, I'm sorry, Okay?"

"Fuck sorry and fuck you! I liked you, you fucking bitch and this is what you do to me!"

She lunged forward with the branch, aiming at Linda's head. Linda ducked and at the same time she threw the mud square into Liz's face and before she had any time to recover she had her thumb on the little canister in her hand and was spraying Mace directly into Liz's eyes.

TO BE CONTINUED

© Wallace 2003. The writer wishes to be acknowledged as the author of this piece. This story is a work of fiction and bears no resemblance to any events or places, real or imaginary, or to any people living or dead.