Jenni and the Indians

Jenni and the Indians

By

Aubrey Wylde

Chapter 1

The Captives

Jenni sat in the darkness in the teepee. She had no sense of how late it was. It had been a long day. One of those days so long that memories of what she’d done in the morning seemed to belong to another day altogether. She could hear the Indians whooping and beating their drums.  Raucous laughter, punctuated by squeals and shrieks, echoed in the darkness. And laughs. An awful lot of coarse laughter. They’d been going at it for hours and they didn’t seem to be slowing down. The red-yellow light of the bonfire shone faintly through the fabric cover of the teepee, constantly shifting, the shadows of people passing the fire flittering across the canvas.

Jenni was naked, sitting on a blanket, her legs spread wide, ankles tied to stakes driven into the ground. Her arms were spread out horizontally, tied to a pole that had been fastened to the supporting poles of the teepee. It was very uncomfortable, and getting more so by the minute.

She felt Brian shifting his weight from one butt cheek to the other. With only a blanket for a cushion, the ground was getting very hard. He was tied to the other side of the pole, in the same position, his back against hers.

“Damn!” he muttered. “I wish I had more fat on my ass. At least there’d be some padding.”

A wave of panic came over Jenni. She’d felt it building for a while now, but had tried to tamp it down.

“Omigod!” she whispered. “Brian! What…what if we’ve been set up?”

“What do you mean?”

“What…what if this isn’t just a game? What if we were tricked into coming here because these people are psychos or something?” Her breath started coming in short, shallow gasps as the horrible possibilities revealed themselves. “What if they really mean to torture us? Like the Indians did. What if they’re into thrill killings? What if they’re making a snuff film or something?”

“Jenni, Jenni. Stop. Take a deep breath. Calm down.”

“They could do it. It happens, you know. You heard what the Chief said. They own us now. They can do what they want to us, with us. They can make us disappear. Crap! We could be on the cover of the National Enquirer next year, after they find our bones!”

“Jenni! Calm down. That’s not going to happen.”

“How do you know? What do you really know about the Over the Edge Society? I don’t know shit about them, except what little I heard about them at the Club.”

Brian was silent for a while. “All I know is what I heard about them at the Club, too. They’re pretty secretive. I know they have a reputation for doing some extreme stuff. But snuff? Murdering people. No way. The Club would never stand for it.”

Jenni thought he didn’t sound very convinced of that.

The flap of the teepee opened and a light was directed at them.

“You two don’t need to be talking,” a woman’s voice said. “Put a sock in it, or we’ll tie you up with a cock in it.”

She laughed at her own humor, ducked and entered the teepee. A second woman came in behind her. They played a flashlight over Jenni’s body quickly, inspecting her. Then the one without the flashlight reached down to tease Jenni’s nipples, pulling and twisting them, while the other one inspected Brian.

“How ya doing there, Hung-Like-Horse?” she asked, using the mocking name they’d given him. “Still standing proud?”

Jenni felt the woman’s bare belly brush her arm as she leaned over the pole. Brian fidgeted and moaned softly as the woman stroked his genitals.

“Frustrating, isn’t it?” she asked him, with a nasty tone to her voice. “All cocked and loaded, as it were, but unable to pull the trigger.”

The woman who’d been playing with Jenni’s nipples moved her attention down to Jenni’s pussy, stroking the moist folds and plucking at her clitoris.

Then they stopped, passed out of the teepee and closed the flap.

“Oh, fuck!” Brian muttered when he was sure they were out of hearing. “Do women get the condition known as blue balls?”

“I don’t think so. We just get frustrated,” Jenni replied, thinking how much she’d love to get her hands on a vibrator right now.

“Well, if they’re not going to let me come,” he groaned, “I’d be happy if they just killed me.”

Sometime later, it seemed like hours but was probably much less, the women came back, this time accompanied by two men.

“Time for nighty-night,” one of the men said.

Jenni and Brian were untied and the pole removed. They were given a few minutes to stretch and massage their cramped limbs before they were ordered to sit down again, back to back, their legs stretched out in front of them. Jenni’s arms were brought back around Brian so that her wrists could be tied in front of his waist. Then Brian’s arms were similarly tied in front of Jenni.

Their captors left. They sat in silence for several long minutes.

Finally Brian whispered, “I guess they want us to sleep in this position.”

Jenni muttered a depressed acknowledgement.  As tired as she was, she doubted she’d get much sleep in such an uncomfortable position.

“Yeah, I’m not going to be able to sleep,” Brian continued. “Not in..uh..the state I’m in. I wonder if I could…if you could…”

“No problem,” Jenni replied. Her hands started searching for Brian’s cock. It was awkward, with her wrists cross and palms facing outward. She felt Brian shifting his position, trying to get his organ in the right place. “You’d do the same for me, right?”

“No question. There. Just a little more to your left. No, your right. Awwww.”

She brushed what she thought was his penis. She managed to wrap her thumb and fingers around it. She began stroking.

“Bless you…bless you,” Brian moaned.

It wasn’t long before she felt his body tense up, then jerk spasmodically. He sighed and his body went limp. She felt the warmth of his cum dripping down her hand.

“Sorry about the mess,” she whispered.

“Screw the mess,” he replied. “It just felt so damned good.”

She leaned her head back, letting it fall to the side to rest against Brian’s shoulder. It had been a long day and the next promised to be longer. She needed to sleep, but she was still so wound up she didn’t know if she could. She kept going over the events that had led her here, to this teepee in the middle of nowhere and at the mercy of a bunch of over-the-top pretend Indians. Not for the first time she asked herself, “What the fuck have I gotten myself into?”

Chapter 2

Castle Keep

She had been with Dan for about two years, living together for a little over one year. Their love life wasn’t bad. In fact Dan was the best lover, creative, sensitive to her needs, that she’d yet had. But they both knew, though neither one of them wanted to mention it, that things were cooling off. Their lovemaking was slipping into a pattern, losing the spontaneity, the sense of surprise and wonder.

Late one night, as they lay together, Dan asked, very hesitantly, “Have you ever wanted to make love while…have you ever wanted to be tied up?”

Jenni gasped, just slightly, and Dan was blushing. He really looked like he wished that he hadn’t said it, completely misreading Jenni’s reaction. Jenni was surprised, but not shocked. She wasn’t quite as innocent as Dan seemed to think she was. She’d read “The Story of O” in college, and a few other less well known and somewhat dirtier books since then. But she’d never actually thought of acting out anything like that in real life.  It would be a few more nights before she was ready to confess it, but she had long had some strange thoughts tucked away in the back of her mind, thoughts she’d only brought into the open in the privacy of her bed, alone, late at night.

They started out simply enough. Dan brought some rope home a few days later.  They tried various positions and cracked up laughing when Dan wanted to tie her breasts and the rope kept slipping off.  It wasn’t that there wasn’t enough boob.  Jenni had a well-developed 36D chest. Dan was just too tentative about hurting her to tie the rope tight enough to get it to hold.

She surprised Dan, and herself, one night. He’d tied her spread eagle on the bed. He had been playing with her, teasing and fondling her breasts, stroking her pussy. He had begun to spank her pussy, very lightly. 

“You can do that a little harder,” she had said. “You won’t break it.” She was surprised as he was.

So he slapped her pussy a little harder, and then still harder. Jenni responded with squeals, jerking and writhing, trying to close her legs, but after every blow she spread her knees again and offered herself up for another. Dan picked up his leather belt, doubled it and gave her a solid whack, square on her plump, red lips.

She let out a screech that made him drop the improvised strap. The intensity of the pain had taken her off guard. But more surprising was the strange sensation that came in behind the pain. Babbling like an idiot, she begged Dan to fuck her, hard.  And he did, giving her the most intense orgasm she’d experienced to that point.  

They had a game they invented, the Molested Housewife. He tied her to a chair in the kitchen. Sometimes she was stripped first, sometimes she wore a bathrobe, as if she’d been caught while dressing or coming out of the shower. Sometimes she dressed in old clothes or something she picked up at Goodwill, and he’d tie her to the chair and cut or rip away the clothes to expose her breasts and pussy. She’d plead for mercy as he squeezed her boobs and spread her lower lips to play with her clit. He learned to judge her arousal and when she wanted him to move from squeezing and fondling to slapping and pinching.

One night he took a zucchini from the refrigerator and threatened her with it. She begged him not to. He rubbed it against her pussy, made her lick it. He put it in her mouth and ordered her to lube it up good. He placed the end of the zucchini against the opening of her vagina and wiggled it around, pushing lightly. But he never pushed hard enough to enter her. Later that night, when they’d retreated to the bedroom and he was inside her, she had the strangest mental image. Dan, between her legs, but with a zucchini where his dick should be.

Dan was more daring than Jenni when it came to surfing the Internet. He told her about these social gatherings, called munches, where people into kink met. He’d located one in their town, noted the date and location. So, after some hesitation and last minute chickening out, they started attending local munches, meeting some people in the scene. By and large they were pretty much normal looking, which Jenni found reassuring. They made some contacts.  An attractive young couple, they were soon invited to some play parties.

But then something strange happened. It was a play party at Bill and Judy’s. They had a really nice set up, a large basement rec room that, now that the kids were out of the house, they’d converted to a dungeon.  Bill was a handy guy, with an enviable set of wood working tools, and also a clever designer. He built a nice collection of bondage furniture, whipping benches, torture chairs, wooden ponies. On this night the centerpiece was a free standing rectangular spread eagle frame, made of polished 4x4’s. It stood in the center of the room on a raised platform. Jenni watched two women and a man take their turns as the center of attention. Then she volunteered to be next.

She allowed herself to be stripped and led to the frame. Her arms were raised and wrists strapped into the leather cuffs. Her legs were spread, wide, and her ankles strapped in place. She felt more fully exposed, her lower lips spread so wide, felt more helpless, more vulnerable than ever before. She also felt more aroused than ever before.

People, some of whom she barely knew, began doing things to her. They played with her breasts and pussy, some gently and tenderly, but others harshly, pulling, pinching, slapping, stretching her nipples. Jenni felt the full array of slappers and floggers and short whips. An older man demonstrated what a nasty little thing a bamboo skewer could be when snapped again her nipples or her clit.

They put a blindfold on her and put foam plugs in her ears, and her arousal level went up several notches. She couldn’t see who was touching her or anticipate what they were going to do. It was as if she’d been cast into a world of pure sensation, her only contact with the outside world through the nerve endings in her skin, her nipples, her labia, her ass, her clit. Even the sounds of voices muted into a subtle background hum.

She came, violently, loudly, jerking against her bonds, the most powerful orgasm she’d ever experienced. She was released from her bonds, helped to a foam pad and came back to earth cradled in the arms of Janis and Isabelle, three naked women intertwined to form a giant blossom, scenting the air with their lust.

When they got home that evening Jenni had recovered and was eager for Dan to take her, to make love to her, to fuck her. He performed his duty but she could sense there was something wrong.

They went on like that for a month. Dan seemed to be going through the motions. The more she tried to get him hot and bothered the more robotic he seemed to become in their sex life. And when she tried to ask what was wrong he simply denied anything was wrong and withdrew even further. And then he left.

Jenni withdrew into herself for a time, asking herself over and over what she’d done wrong until one evening she decided she hadn’t done anything wrong. Dan’s problem was Dan’s problem and he was welcome to it. She picked herself up and went, alone, to the next munch.

It wasn’t long before she hooked up with Leslie and Paul. They made an interesting trio at a play party. Leslie, five foot nothing, 98 pounds, needing a little foam rubber assistance to fill out the cups of her leather bustier, leading the six foot, 200 pound Paul and busty, five-seven, redheaded Jenni on leashes.

Jenni was grateful that she’d met them. If Dan was the Christopher Columbus who showed her a new world, Leslie and Paul were the Lewis and Clark who showed her its possibilities. They were an experienced couple, in their forties. Paul was a submissive, Leslie a domme, and well versed in rope bondage and mild pain play.

They were married, but with their own peculiar twist.

“We’re not really into poly,” Leslie told Jenni. “We believe in monogamy. But we also recognize our needs. So, we came to an agreement. If we’re both fucking the same third party, neither of us is cheating.”

Their private play parties usually began with a variety of increasingly strenuous bandage positions spiced up with clamps and flagellation, and ending in variations of threesome sex. A bound, spread-eagled Paul being sucked off by Jenni while Leslie straddled his face. Jennie licking Leslie’s pussy while she sucked off Paul. Leslie licking Jenni while Paul fucked her from behind. Paul licking Jenni while Leslie used a strap-on on him.

Early on Jenni was still reluctant about another woman touching her. Leslie took care of that.

“Fingers and tongues are pretty much the same,” she said while expertly massaging a bound Jenni’s clitoris and labia. “This little clitty here doesn’t care if the fingers or tongue are connected to a pussy or a prick, just as long as they know what they’re doing.”

Leslie and Paul introduced Jenni to the Castle Keep Club, a BDSM club located in an old warehouse on the edge of the seedy industrial section of town. They often attended open play parties before returning home for their private games. After her first visit Jenni took out a membership. It was surprisingly affordable.

“We use a sliding scale,” Fred, the club manager, told her. “Those who can afford to pay, pay more. Those who can’t, pay less. We’re not a country club. We don’t believe in excluding people for lack of means.” 

Jenni’s membership in the club became more important when, after some months, the end came for the threesome of Leslie, Paul and Jenni, as Leslie had warned her it eventually would when they’d first gotten together.

“We’re a couple,” she said. “You’re an honored guest. But still, and always, a guest. The time will come when Paul and I, or you, will want to move on.”

They parted friends. Jenni had enjoyed the months they’d played together, but she also knew it was time for something different. Castle Keep became the center of Jenni’s kink life. She still saw Leslie and Paul, and after a month or so their new third, Melissa, and even played with them on occasion. But mostly she pulled back a bit, becoming more of a spectator and occasionally playing with some friends from the munch. But she didn’t make a connection with any of them like she’d had with Paul and Leslie. She had the sense that she was looking for something, something nebulous. Something she couldn’t quite define. Something more than she’d experienced already.

At the back of the club there was a stairway leading downwards. It went down half a flight to a landing, turned left and continued downwards. Jenni had seen it and at first assumed it simply went to the basement. It was probably nothing more than storage or utility access.

But several times she noticed small groups of members going down the stairs or coming up the stairs. Curious, one day she went down the stairs and found herself in a dimly lit vaulted passageway. At the end of the passageway there was a door, all heavy rough timbers and iron straps, looking like something that had been transplanted from a Scottish castle, lit by two dim red lanterns. A small brass plaque on the door bore the letters “OES” in gothic script. Beneath it another plaque in smaller letters read “Members Only.” She tried the door. It was locked.

Really curious now, at the first opportunity she approached Fred, the club manager.

“What’s OES stand for?” she asked.

“Someone’s been snooping,” Fred replied with a sly smile. “Well, OES stands for the Over the Edge Society. It’s a sort of club within the club. They have their own little playroom down in the understory.”

“It’s like a secret society or something? I’ve never heard anyone mention it.”

“Not really secret. More of an open secret. They just like to be very low key and we respect their desires. Do you know what ‘edge play’ means?” Jenni nodded. She’d heard the term and sort of knew what it meant. “As the name ‘Over the Edge Society’ implies, they like to push their play a little further than your ordinary recreational pervert.”

Jenni was intrigued. They sounds like they might be too serious for her tastes, but then the new, wilder Jenni felt compelled to ask. “So, how does one join the Over the Edge Society?”

“One doesn’t. One is invited to become a member. The Society watches the regular Castle Keep members and if they see someone who looks like a good fit they quietly offer them the opportunity to explore the possibilities.”

“Well, can one drop a hint that they’d like to be considered?”

“Of course. I’ll have a word with the appropriate people if you wish.”

“Thank you,” Jenni said, while wondering if she’d be saying “Oh, shit!” later.

A month passed without any word or sign from the Over the Edge Society. When at the club Jenni tried to watch surreptitiously for anyone who might be taking a particular interest in her. She was unable to spot any likely scouts.

Another two weeks passed and Jenni decided that she must not have lived up to the selection criteria. Then on a Monday evening Fred called her.

“So, any plans for the weekend?”

“No, nothing particular. Nothing that can’t wait for another weekend.”

“Good. Some of the members of the OES are having a play party and get together this weekend and have asked if you’d like to join them. It’s a weekend thing, at the ranch of one of our founding members and major benefactors. So pack like you’re going to a dude ranch. A car will be around to pick you up Friday afternoon. Is 5:30 too early? It’s a several hours drive.”

“No, I can do that. I’ll take off a little early from work.” And did she hear that right? “A car will pick me up?”

“Yes. A classic Bentley. The OES likes to do things up right.”

To be continued….