The following is a work of total fiction and intended solely for consumption by
those legally of age and where ADULT MATERIAL is permitted. Strong subject
matter is contained and is for those not easily offended by such.
Any reuse of the material without the author's express consent is strongly
discouraged.
Thank you and enjoy.
Faibhar
Dawn's CROSS Country
"You wanna get that?"
"No, mistress. I think i'll just let it ring," Dawn said to Suzanne as they
passed mid-span across the Golden Gate. She closed her eyes and smiled. The
small cell phone Suzanne slipped between her parted sex when they passed through
the toll booth was set to alert its owner of incoming calls by the vibrating
mode. Before leaning her right knee against the limo black passenger side window
and resting her bare foot on the padded dash, Dawn had watched Suzanne dial the
number from another cell phone. That's when the vibrations inside her began. Her
other foot lightly rested atop Suzanne's hiking boot, toes digging into the mock
leather.
"I've got something else in here for you pet."
Dawn didn't open her eyes, but instead said, "Thank you mistress."
Suzanne waited for the distinct pop, and then extricated the cigarette lighter
placed next to the heater controls on the car. She didn't have to take her eyes
from the road to see her slave's long legs opened. With grim satisfaction she
pressed the glowing tip of the lighter. She knew just where it should go. The
lighter t met the curved metal of the tiny ring piercing her pet's pussy. "Feel
that?"
Lines crinkled her smooth complexion as the heat grew. Dawn peeked once, but
then immediately closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against the
seat. Rictus bared her teeth. She sucked in her lower lip, but slowly rolled her
head from side to side and said, "Please mistress...more."
Suzanne plugged the cooled lighter back into its socket and stole her eyes from
the road to curvy halter-top adorning her hot slave. She smiled as her vision
returned to the freeway ahead. Her fingers reached over and slipped one thin
strap off the buffed shoulder.
"Pull on your shorts and open that gate."
Dawn opened her eyes for the first time since they left the city. They were
stopped on a country road. She shook her head to try and clear it and looked
around. They seemed to be somewhere in Northwest Marin judging by the lack of
houses and rolling pasture lands. Rectangular and diagonal bars immediately in
front of them barred their progress. Cows appeared in the distance as she pulled
up her shorts and opened the passenger door.
Dawn sat up straighter in the seat as they jolted along the rutted road once
passed the gate, but soon stopped at another one. Her heart beat faster in
anticipation. She did the same as before and climbed back in as Suzanne shifted
gears and the SUV slowly moved forward.
"The others will join us soon enough. Get out."
The wet mud squished between her toes as she stepped once more from the car and
she almost lost her balance. In the distance Dawn could hear surf. She
straightened her shoulder straps and hugged her bare midriff. A sea breeze
chilled but was not cold. Still, Dawn wished that she was allowed to wear
something else, but Suzanne had instructed her to wear and pack the barest
necessities.
She shivered as her fingers felt the gooseflesh.
They walked from the parked car around a small hill. Several others stood under
a spreading tree. Dawn counted three men and one woman. As she and Suzanne got
closer, Dawn recognized them from Klub Knoir. The woman was the severe blonde
with the flowing hair and she wore some kind of warrior costume. The others
looked fairly normal except for the one wearing the black mask. He must be the
one who wore the bizarre face mask she remembered from that night at the club.
Dawn tugged at Suzanne's sleeve and asked where the rest but her mistress said
that this was all that was coming and she should mind her manners by holding her
tongue.
The blonde really gave her attitude Dawn thought as they joined the others. Her
face menaced. It all went with the warrior look, probably some kind of method
acting where it was important to show a game face. The woman looked like some
cast member from the TV show Xena. Dawn decided to play along and kept quiet.
Suzanne bussed her cheek. Dawn felt her mistress's warmth and wanted to cuddle
but did not react. Before she knew what was happening one of the men threw
Suzanne a knapsack. The four turned and trudge off toward the ocean leaving just
her and the costumed blonde.
"You're mine now, sweet cheeks."
Dawn's eyes misted. She almost bolted away to follow Suzanne and the others as
they rounded another bend and disappeared, but stayed put in obedience to her
mistress. She turned and looked up to the severe blonde. Both of them were tall,
though the warrior-woman's boots gave her an edge over Dawn in her bare feet.
"Don't even think of following them." To emphasize her point she jabbed a finger
at Dawn's breastbone. "Follow me over to this tree."
Dawn took another look, but Suzanne and the others were gone from sight. Only
blue sky, the roar of the distant surf and green hills remained. She stepped
after the one with the high boots, amulets and furred bustier.
"Drop those shorts."
Dawn paused for a second. Long lashes covered her new handler's icy blue eyes.
The irises looked almost white and the pupils a pale shade of blue. The glare
was still there. Dawn untied the drawstring and slid her nylon shorts over her
hips. She let them drop to the ground and stepped out. New contact with fresh
air chilled every inch.
"Now...bitch, gimme your arms."
She swung the single braid behind her head and did as told. The blonde brought
rope and cinched each wrist. Dawn watched. She felt especially vulnerable as she
was tied. Her mistress no longer was around to protect her. The rope was unlike
the cuffs she had worn before. Its coarseness chaffed her skin. Each wrist knot
started a separate rope.
"You're little slut brain's probably trying to figure why you're here, right?"
Actually, the thought had occurred to Dawn. She delighted in Suzanne's
suggestion back at the condo that they both take a few days off, and vacation in
Tahoe. Just this little detour, she had said, and Dawn readily packed a small
bag happy to join her mistress. That now seemed like so long ago, and hanging
naked from some tree limb with just the severe blonde for company was hardly her
idea of a fun vacation.
Ropes over the branch separated her arms and formed them into a deep "Y". Her
toes barely scraped the mossy ground. In front of her stood the one she
instinctively feared.
"Well...I might as well tell you, that is, if you haven't already figured it
out. Which I seriously doubt."
Cool breezes stirred leaves under the tree. She could still make out the sounds
of the surf in the near distance, and even though it was a sunny day, the tree
branches mostly shadowed where she hung. The shade made things even cooler.
The slap stung and rocked her head. It burned her cheek, but so did her
embarrassment.
"You like pain, don't you?" The blonde lowered her voice and stepped closer to
Dawn. She clawed two fingers between the slave's thighs. "Well, you've come to
the right place." She smiled as her fingers felt between the warm pussy lips.
"Our private little group today is made up strictly of sadists who want to see
you suffer."
Dawn twisted her face down and looked into the other's. Her muscles
involuntarily twitched. The glare narrowed and gleamed malevolence.
"As much as we can, we will create our own little passion play with you as the
star. Sound like fun?" Her fingers hooked and slid out, deliberately scraping a
fingernail over the slave's clit.
She walked away, and when she returned she carried in her hand a barbed whip.
"Ever seen one of these?" She made pendulum-like swings of the three lashes near
her feet.
Fascination held Dawn's focus on the pendulum. Torn wild flowers and grasses
flew up each time the whip swung.
"This is a scourge. I will use it on you, and although we are far from anyone, I
think this will work for now." She yanked back Dawn's hair by pulling the auburn
braid. When her mouth opened wide, she popped in the hard-rubber ball. She
quickly tied the gag's straps behind the slave's head. "You see, this one leaves
marks."
"And I want to see those pretty tits of yours."
Dawn felt a shoulder strap fall. The blonde wrenched down a pale green cup from
her halter. Her boob plopped out. She threw her head back as she felt the
blonde's lips suck in her healed, but still inflamed puffy nipple area.
"What are these?" She looked closer at the small pink circles dotting the pale
flesh. They looked fresh.
"Never mind. I'll ask Suzanne later. It's time now to start our play."
The front was worse, if that was possible, than her back. Dawn's head reeled.
The scourging was a thousand-times worse than any flogger she knew. Her body
hung limp. The woman torturing her was mad. Dawn felt skinned alive. It was
impossible to hold up her head. Brief respite came thanks to leaning against an
upraised shoulder.
"Now, now. Time to wake sleepy." The blonde in the warrior's costume lifted up
the slave's fallen chin and wiped her face. She removed the ball gag. The slave
croaked a groan as her head fell back.
Dawn's arms felt like concrete as they were lowered. She was vaguely aware of
the blonde holding her up under her arm. She let one arm be guided into the long
sleeve of a thin white robe. Its hem fell below her knees, and she stood as the
blonde cinched the robe's belt around her waist.
"I brought along something else for you to wear, though I suppose you should
first kneel."
Dawn's shaking legs folded. Her knees sunk into the muddy earth. She braced
herself with her hands in the mud. More clarity returned and when it did, Dawn
kneeled up. The blonde no longer held the scourge, but was coming back towards
her gingerly carrying a thorny crown in both hands.
"This, and that long piece of wood over there is for you." Walking back up to
the kneeling slave was easy. Her lips pressed into a thin smile. Already stains
were showing in the robe where the bitch had been lashed. And this was just the
beginning. She held the handicraft with all of the woven briars over the
kneeling slave's head and slammed it down.
Dawn's voice tried to scream again as her scalp was cut. She lurched forward,
but was held up by the blonde. Another force stunned her head, this time harder.
Her face lunged forward. She felt hot streams beginning to flow down her cheeks.
Her eyes stung as more streams flowed. Between blinks claret spots appeared on
the white robe.
"Now that's done, cummon. Let's get you under that beam." She pulled one of the
ropes still attached to the slave, bringing her to her feet. "Over here."
Its weight bent Dawn forward at her waist. She nearly fell, but the blonde held
her up until she staggered forward on her own. The ropes tied her arms around
the wood. Two other long ropes were fetched.
Dawn detachedly watched the slip knots placed around the base of each breast.
Her body swelled two balloons under the thin robe. She could see the darker
colors of her swollen nipples through the light material. Ropes knotted around
her tightened. Her torso jerked up. The blonde made the leashes and was
determined to pull her along the trail by her tits.
"Ready? Good. Let's go."
Phillip, one of the select group picnicking on the grassy headlands overlooking
the Pacific was the designated cameraman. He reached for the digital videocam in
his knapsack when the two were spotted rounding a bend on the same cattle trail
earlier used. In the small viewfinder he composed the blonde leading a
bedraggled slave. The composition of a blonde female warrior tugging along a
tortured female slave bearing a crossbeam by leashes attached to her tits
Phillip knew was priceless.
Dawn's overloaded senses tried to make sense of the scene. Ocean sounds seemed
much closer. The others, including Suzanne, all now wore ancient costumes. They
looked like what she studied in school whenever Romans or Greeks from long ago
came up. Someone lifted the beam off of her shoulders. Relieved of its weight,
she almost fell.
The toga party looked like it was having a picnic on the grass.
Two of the men took the bloodied beam over to a much longer piece of wood. They
hammered the two together to form a Roman cross. Pounding noises from their work
mixed with sounds of the surf and seagulls bleating overhead.
"It appears that is Showtime, my dear."
Dawn swung her head in the direction of the smooth masculine voice. It came from
the master with the black mask. He now wore a purple toga and stood close to her
side. Beyond him, she made out the cameraman, and beyond him, Suzanne .
The blonde had disappeared. Dawn stood bemused as she saw Suzanne smile and blow
an air kiss her way. She did not know how her friend could watch her suffer so
and yet seem so unconcerned. Hands distracted her as they tore off the soiled
robe. She tried to scream, but little sound came from her throat as scabbed
scourges were opened. Dawn fell to her knees and sobbed.
The master watched as two of the men dragged the slave backwards toward the
cross. They laid her on the wood, arms outstretched. A look of satisfaction
covered his face. Through the slits in the mask, he saw that the slave had been
thoroughly scourged. The blonde must have thoroughly enjoyed her role, he mused.
He stepped forward toward the men and the cross.
"Here you go. I had to locate spikes as the nails they make nowadays are too
thin." He handed the men the spikes and watched the first placed into the upturn
wrist.
Suzanne sat on the small rock and grimaced as she watched Dawn's torso jerk
upward and her back arch. The croaking cry she heard made her reach for another
glass of Merlot. She emptied the glass in one gulp, as the body jerked up again
as if trying to get free.
"This sort of thing takes a stiff drink sometimes..."
Suzanne looked up into the face of the blonde. Even given the brief warrior-girl
costume, the stranger's body felt warm as it sat alongside. Her new friend
poured from a flask into the glass she held. Suzanne took a sip. The vodka
burned her throat. Her eyes glistened. She looked back to where the men were
moving to Dawn's other wrist, and then back at the blonde. This close, Suzanne
realized that she was very pretty. Suzanne absently ran fingers through her hair
as Dawn croaked out more cries a few yards away.
Phillip was able to record all of the action on his camera. He zoomed in as the
cross was raised and the men hammered what looked to be a larger spike into the
slave's feet. He captured a close-up of her face in agony, tilted down across
her lacerated breasts, starkly imaged ribs, sunken belly, shaven pussy and
flexing thighs-all the way back down to her nailed feet, placed one atop the
other.
In a loud voice so that all could hear, the master held up a large swab. Suzanne
giggled at the sight of the master with his fancy toga and now wearing
protective yellow rubber gloves with olive green gas mask as he held up the
cloth. The man was mixing too many costume periods she thought. Where were the
Fashion Police when you really needed them?
Suzanne held out her glass for a refill from the blonde.
"The caustic soda solution used before did enflame the slaves nipples, as you
can see...but this," he said as the masked master inspected the cloth held by
his yellow rubber glove, "Is much stronger. Less diluted than before. Truly
corrosive!"
Suzanne shook her head as she took another sip of the vodka. No matter how kinky
the master got, he would always keep his day job as chemical engineer. She
winced and looked away as she saw him move his yellow glove with the soaked
cloth and slip it up between Dawn's thighs. That's got to hurt, she thought, and
felt her own pussy tighten.
Dawn cried out, but only a ragged hoarseness now came from her throat as she
sank another time. To breathe she had to press down on her nailed feet until she
could raise up and gasp a sample of the crisp salt air. The last one seemed
impossible but knew she had to do, or else. She now hung by her wrists.
Dawn sobbed, though no tears came. Chemicals churned like molten lava and
continued to destroy her insides. Weakened eyes saw some movement of the others.
They had picnicked and partied as she hung, then napped, but now were unfolding
and erecting tents. Looking out to the setting sun from her place on the cross,
Dawn saw lanterns lit inside of the tents. She saw Suzanne arm-in-arm with the
blonde giddily wave. The two ducked into one of the tents. Dawn grimaced as more
pains attacked her insides.
That night Dawn watched the two silhouettes inside the tent she saw Suzanne
enter. She recognized one shape as her mistress. The other she knew all too
well. The shapes moved as lovers on the sloping side of the tent.
Much later, billowing midnight coastal fog swirled around the isolated campsite,
the fog a damp witness as the final light extinguished and died. Waves washing
to shore once more proved their unending supremacy over the relatively
short-lived humans.
The End
