Capture the Flag

by Iphigenia-at-Aulis, Copyright 2001, 2003
iphigenia-at-aulis@angelfire.com

"Get down, Jenny! Somebody's coming!"

Shelley and I ducked down behind a fallen tree. I could hear leaves rustling, and an occasional twig snapping, the footsteps coming our way. The voices were guys, talking quietly. We were pretty far into their territory. My heart was pounding. Would they see us? Should we run, or should we stay down and wait for them to pass?

This was a game of capture the flag, played out in a secluded forest preserve park. For those unfamiliar with the game, each of the two teams is assigned a territory. In this case the territorial dividing line was a primitive fire road that cuts through the area. Each team then plants their flag, suspended on a staff, in some obscure spot deep within their territory. The object of the game is to capture the opposing team's flag before they capture yours. But any time you are in your opponents' territory, they can capture you.

The majority of the group had decided that it would be guys against girls, although I had voted against it. Ostensibly to make things fair, it was decided that the rules of capture would differ for girls compared to guys. In our territory we only needed to tag the guys in order to capture them. Once captured they had to accompany us back to our "jail" site, where they had to wait out the game - unless one of their other team members could find them, tag them free, and escape without us tagging them again.

However, if we were captured in the guys territory, we could run away any time we wanted. Most of the girls thought this was a good deal since otherwise, being captured makes for a dull game. Nevertheless, I was not so sure I liked this arrangement since it implied that the guys would be physically restraining us if they captured us. I don't care for the idea of being manhandled by some aggressive guys. ...On the other hand, being captured by my dear friend Mick might be okay.

So anyway, Shelley and I were pretty far into the guys territory, searching for the whereabouts of their flag. Shelley is a cute blond, with fair skin and medium build. I guess we get along okay, but she's certainly not a close friend. She usually tends to hang out with what I would consider to be a fast crowd. I guess I'm not really comfortable with that group. I don't know what it is; maybe I feel that they are too often looking out for ‘number one'. ...But I suppose that's hypocritical of me. How can I claim that I don't look out for  
number one?

The guys were passing very close. Shelley and I stayed low behind the tree trunk. A voice that sounded like Ted spoke, "Hey, what's that?" My heart jumped to my throat.

"Moosehead Ale. Not opened. Think it's okay? Doesn't look like it's been here all that long." That sounded like Ralph. Apparently somebody had dropped a bottle of beer in the woods and these guys had just found it. Damn. Why couldn't they just go on their way?

Ducking behind a fallen tree.

"Well, open it. A third of the bottle for each of us."

Now spoke a third voice, that of Steve, a pretty good friend of mine. "You guys can share it. I'll pass. Can't stand beer. Tastes like somebody went to the bathroom in my mouth."

I almost giggled out loud ...which would have been disastrous, since they couldn't have been more than three or four meters away, on the other side of the fallen tree.

"Ahhhh... yeah! Mighty fine... [Belch]." That was Ralph.

A few moments later, it was Ted's turn. "Awright... [Belch]."

"You know," said Ralph. "Back when I went to camp, there was this kid. We nicknamed him ‘Sewer-Belches' cuz his belches smelled real bad. There must have been something rotten in his innards."

"Oh shit, not another of your asinine stories."

"It's true. I'm not putting you on."

"Just pipe down, will you. We're never going to catch anybody if you announce our presence to everyone this side of the park."

"Awright, awright..."

"You know, speaking of catching somebody, I wouldn't mind catching Diana." Ted was referring to my friend Diana, who as it happened would never be in a position to catch since she was guarding our flag. He continued, "But Shelley would be a nice catch too. ...You understand that we can't just tag them, we gotta actually restrain them. Otherwise they can run away any time."

Steve replied, "Of course I understand that. Get physical with a girl. Funny how maybe your hands just accidently end up inside her shirt."

The other guys laughed. What they were talking about is exactly why I had voted against playing under these rules. ...I glanced at Shelley. She looked amused, not disturbed. I don't know; maybe I'm just uptight, but I was not amused.

Steve continued. "Man, I'd like to get my hands on Jenny's tits and ass." This felt really weird, overhearing him say that about me. I consider Steve a good friend. But here was a facet of his personality not ordinarily seen. Is this what has been going on in the back of his mind during some of our long intellectually-oriented conversations?

"You know," Ralph replied. "I had Jenny the other night. But first I had to whip her."

"Ah, Ralph, you're so full of shit. You did no such thing."

"Yeah, I did. You can ask her. Whipped her real good, all over ...specially on the butt, and on the tits and pussy..."

My eyes must have been as big as saucers. I couldn't believe he was saying this about me. It was absolutely totally fabricated. I have never had anything to do with Ralph. I couldn't believe he had picked me to tell such a crazy story about.

Shelley looked over at me, mouth open, eyes gleeful. I shook my head vigorously negative. Surely she couldn't believe this was true.

"Ralph," said Steve, "great story, but you're totally full of crap. You can't even breath the same air as Jenny. She'd never let you do that."

"Who said anything about her letting me? I wanted her. So I whipped her. Then I fucked her. I don't ask permission. I take what I want."

"Hey, I don't care if it's all fiction. Tell me about it," said Ted, laughing.

"Yeah, I whipped her good. And it ain't fiction. Whipped her tits raw with a mule whip. You wouldn't of believed it. The song of the whip as it sliced though the air. That loud swack as it wrapped itself around her naked body. That whip loved the taste of her nakedness so much it just clung to her flesh, wouldn't let go. I had to drag it across her to get it off. Sliced her good.

"Then I took up a switch and went after her cunt. Snick! Snick! Snick! First on the outer lips. Then I rained em down into her cleft. Just buried that switch into her. There's this sound...the sound of her cleft swallowing up the switch... It was like... Blupp... Each time: Blupp... Blupp... I don't know how many times she came off. I just kept swatting her with it. Her clit swelled up so big, it's lucky it didn't pop. Man, but I just couldn't help myself."

"Shit, you're a gross son of a bitch," interrupted Ted. "But keep going anyway."

Ralph continued, "Well, so I finally let up on her cunt and went after her tits. Switched em good. Man, I can't tell you what it's like. This wet sounding THUCK! Smack it right down onto her nipples. The switch digs in, then kinda bounces back off em, and the nipples just pop back up to attention, like good soldiers. ...You bring it down, THUCK! Crease her tits  
with it; then the nipples pop back up, waiting for the next swat.

"That watery sound of the switch whacking soft girl flesh. The impact wave just travels across them, like they were Jell-O or something. Man, I couldn't help myself... I lost count of how many times I hit her. Beat her tits raw.

"Like by that time I had this giant boner. So I impaled her on my shaft. Uh! Uh! Uh! Finally I blew this titanic load into her. It was the mother of all orgasms; must have gone on for more than an hour. ...Well, after all that we were both really exhausted, so I cut her  
down and let her go. She like staggered off trailing this veritable river of jizm.

"So there you have it. Jenny, whipped and fucked. Yeah, whipped and fucked. ...So anyway, she's in bad shape now. Destroyed. Wrecked forever. So don't bother to try to grab her by the tits, she hasn't got much left. Course, she never was all that big to begin with."

I was just totally grossed out to hear him talking about me like that. I was strongly tempted to stand up and confront him. I was imagining the look on his face if I suddenly appeared before him.

Ted remarked, "Well, Ralph, it's a great line, even if you're totally gross. But you gotta admit that Jenny didn't look the least bit unusual this afternoon when we started."

"Hey, she was wearing a loose T-shirt. So you really couldn't tell that I had wrecked her tits."

Growing more and more angry, I swatted at a mosquito.

"What was that?" Steve asked.

"What the hell? ...It's a person." As I looked up, there was Ted's handsome dark face peering at me over the fallen tree. "It's Jenny! ...Hey, and there's Shelley. Hi ya, Shelley. Fancy meeting you guys here."

Confronting Ralph

I stood up. At this point I had no intention of running. I was going to confront Ralph. I climbed over the fallen tree, glaring at him as I did so. He looked like he had just swallowed a turd.

I marched up to him. I had never slapped a guy before. But I had seen women slap men in movies. I liked the image of me slapping Ralph. I looked into his face. A bit uncertainly, I tried to slap him, but I must have hesitated too long, for he caught my wrist in his hand, and held it.

"Consider yourself caught!" he said, smiling, seeming to have regained some of his composure.

"You bastard! I heard that obnoxious story you told about me."

"I'm sorry, Jenny," he replied. "It was inappropriate. I shouldn't have told these guys. That was rather caddish of me to reveal our little secret."

"Our secret? You big asshole! That whole story is a lie! I'd never let you touch me... not in a million years."

Ralph eyed my wrist, held fast in his hand. Smiling, he said, "Really? Whose wrist is it that my hand is in contact with?"

"Damn you! Let go!" I started kicking him.

"Ooh! Hey! Quit that! You're captured. It's part of the game." But he released my wrist. Nevertheless, I continued kicking at him as he backed away. Only occasionally making contact, and not hard, I knew I wasn't hurting him. Nor was I trying to. I only wanted to vent my displeasure with him.

"You better quit that, or you'll be sorry," he threatened. But he wasn't very threatening. He kept backing away as I stalked him, directing kicks in his direction without really trying to connect.

Then suddenly he lunged and grabbed me. Before I knew it, he had pulled me over the fallen tree. Smack! He spanked me on my upraised butt. Smack! "Ow!"

I struggled to get away, but Ralph had hold of one arm behind my back, and Shelley, in what felt like the ultimate betrayal, held the other arm. "Shelley! Don't let him do this to me!"

"Oh, Jenny, lighten up, will you," she replied, laughing. "What's a little spanking between friends."

Smack! "Ooh!" ...Smack! "Ow! Stop..." Smack! "Ahhhh..."

"Are you going to start behaving like a civilized person?"

Smack! "Ooh! Yes, I'll stop kicking you." ...Smack! "Ow! Please no more." ...Smack! ...Smack! ...Smack!

If he wasn't going to stop, it seemed I would just have to bear it. I stopped struggling and just kept quiet. Once beyond the initial shock, the spanking wasn't that terribly painful, but certainly humiliating.

"Okay, that's enough of a spanking for you, Jenny. ...It isn't as much fun if your not going to thrash around and cry out. ...Party pooper."

As he let me stand up, I eyed Ralph warily. I felt humiliated. I was annoyed with Ralph. But also annoyed with myself. Annoyed that I had behaved in a way that allowed such a churl to ask me if I was going to ‘start behaving like a civilized person.'

"Well, Jenny, you really owe it to yourself to prove that Ralph is a liar," said Steve.

"How am I supposed to prove it? You don't believe me?" I looked a Steve incongruously.

He replied, "Well, he said that just the other night he had whipped your... um... breasts raw. If that were true, you'd still have plenty of visible whip marks. So if you show that you have no whip marks, you prove he lied."

I eyed him for a brief moment, pondering. But I decided no, he had no business whatever asking me to lift my shirt. Stiffly I said, "No. I'm not doing that."

"See, I told you I wasn't lying," exclaimed Ralph.

This time, I didn't bother to respond to him. I was starting to feel like everyone was trying to get at me.

"Oh Jenny, don't pout. Really I'm on your side. I just want you to prove that Ralph is an idiot and a liar so that we can shut him up. I really want you to come out on top."

Then Shelley spoke up, "Come on Jenny, don't make such a big deal out of it. You act like you have this great dark secret under your T-shirt that nobody's ever supposed to see. Why not resolve this thing and move on?"

It's no wonder Shelley is not a close friend. I was beginning to see her as an obnoxious person.

"It's all right Jenny," said Ralph, smiling. "There's absolutely no reason why you have to show any of these people your whip marks."

That was the last straw. "All right. See!" I lifted my T-shirt, revealing my midsection and ribs, but not my breasts. "No whip marks. Are you satisfied now?" I turned, so that all could see.

"But I never whipped you on the belly and ribs," protested Ralph. "I whipped your tits. Whacked your nipples right off your chest with a switch."

I was not wearing a bra. I lifted my shirt just a little higher to reveal the lower part of the breasts. But I had no intention of showing everything. I glanced at Steve. His eyes were glued to my body. So were Ralph's and Ted's. No one said anything. I will admit that at that moment I was perhaps a little captivated by the drama of the situation.

Suddenly, from behind, Shelley reached around and pulled my shirt up the rest of the way, completely exposing my breasts.

"Shelley! Don't!" I struggled to pull my T-shirt back down. Escaping her grasp, I got myself covered again. Now there was no doubt in my mind that she was an obnoxious person. They were all obnoxious people. I moved several steps away and turned my back to all of them. ...Well okay, in retrospect maybe it wasn't such a big deal, but at the time I was pretty upset.

"Okay Ralph," said Steve. "Admit it. Your story was totally fabricated. No whip marks. Jenny's tits are as perfect as ever."

"Hey, there might be some people who think tits are more perfect WITH a few whip marks than without," interjected Ted. "But marked or unmarked, they're nice tits for her kind of body."

"Oh, you people!" exclaimed Ralph. "You all have trouble telling fantasy from reality. But you got to admit that it was a great story. Especially since we got to see Jenny's tits." He came over and patted me on the shoulder. "Don't be mad. It was all in fun."

This time I didn't hesitate. Pivoting rapidly, I gave him a hard slap on the cheek.

"Ow!" Ralph had this shocked expression as he rubbed his cheek. "Shit, what a tigress." Weakly, he tried to smile.

It was in some sense cathartic to have been able to strike back at Ralph. Yet there was also a sense of having descended to a primitive stratum. I'm not in the habit of going around hitting people. Indeed, I'm not sure I can even remember the last time I hit somebody. ...And this whole spat was about Ralph's words, and not, after all, his actions. Am I so verbally impaired that I have to counter words with blows?

"I'm sorry... even though you did deserve it," I said. "Are you okay? "

"Hey, no sweat. Of course I'm okay." It seemed that he wouldn't want to imply that a slap from a female, especially one of my measure, could phase him. "Is everybody friends again?" he asked.

"Well you know," said Ted, "friends or no, you girls are captured. We're gonna take you to the jail."

"All right. We'll go, peaceably ...maybe," I said glancing at Shelley. She nodded agreement.

"Okay, Ted will lead the way. Follow him. Ralph and I will stay right behind you, so don't try to pull anything funny on us. Don't even think about trying to run away."

As the five of us walked further into the guys territory, the foremost thing on my mind was running away - looking for the right opportunity. I suspect I can outrace Steve. I did it once last year. Ted, on the other hand, is truly fast. Big, strong, and fast. He's one of the school's foremost athletes. He'd be really hard to get away from. Ralph... well, I don't really know. Never seen him in action.

As we walked, I pondered Ralph. He's a fairly weird guy. Can be really funny at times. He's not much of a student - doesn't try very hard. But I recall one English assignment that required genuine creativity, and his piece was so good that Miss Bright had him read it to the whole class.

But Ralph is peripheral to the circle of people I'm close with. ...I hope that doesn't sound cliquish. I hate cliques. I try to be open to everybody. ...But he has never really been on my radar screen. Nevertheless, from his story, it seems that I've secretly been on his radar screen, like it or not.

"Can you two walk faster," Steve interrupted my thoughts. "It seems that you're trying to let Ted get pretty far ahead of you. ...And slow down Ted, we gotta stay together. I don't trust them not to try to run away."

It was true. Shelley and I were intentionally lagging. We had let Ted get a good ten meters ahead of us. But I shrugged, "This is fast enough for me. What's your hurry?"

Steve looked at me. "Jenny, I know you're plotting evil."

"Who me? How could you think such a awful thing of me?"

Then Shelley suddenly plopped herself down on the ground, saying, "I'm tired. I don't want to go any further in this direction." She was grinning mischievously.

I sat down too. "I agree with Shelley. You guys can go ahead. We'll wait here." I laughed. "You can trust us."

Ted, who had now rejoined us, said, "So, you're not going to cooperate, eh? Do you want us to carry you?"

Shelley baited him, "I don't think you're strong enough."

Actually, I suspected that Ted was strong enough to carry one us by himself, even if we resisted, and that Steve and Ralph could easily handle the other of us. But I spoke not, and merely continued smiling.

Suddenly it occurred to me that we might be able to make it a lot more difficult for them if we went limp. It seemed worth a try, if only as an experiment. I said to Shelley, "If he tries to pick you up, just go completely limp. It's supposed to make it a lot harder for them."

"Oh, so you're really trying to make trouble." Bending over Shelley, Ted said, "We'll see whether I'm strong enough or not."

Grasping her under the arms, he tried to lift, but Shelley, looking like a rag doll, prevented him from being able to lift her. He tried another grip, but again did not succeed. "Damn. You are a pain."

At this point he took hold of the bottom of her T-shirt and pulled up. I thought he had found a strategy to get Shelley to resist his pull. But no! Shelley remained limp, as her shirt was pulled upward, now exposing her bra, now pulled over her, now all the way off. I couldn't believe she had let him do that. Ted was grinning.

Steve, coming up behind me, said, "Well, let's see if Jenny is any easier to lift." He grasped the bottom of my T-shirt. With no bra underneath, there was no way I was going to let him pull it off me. I clasped my arms tightly around my front. So much for the strategy of going limp.

As he clasped me under the arm pits and lifted me to my feet, I said, "All right. You win. Maybe I'm not too tired to walk after all."

"Oh Jenny! You are such a mouse!" exclaimed Shelley. But she stood up too, perhaps reluctantly.

"Well, yeah, but I don't have anything on underneath."

"So what. You don't need anything underneath. ...But you tricked me into losing my shirt "

"I did not trick you in losing your shirt. You let Ted pull it off. ...Ted, give her back her shirt."

"Hell no," answered Ted, grinning as he looked at Shelley. "I'm keeping it for a while. It's my insurance policy, to secure your good behavior. And besides, what you're wearing is perfectly presentable. You wear less than that at the beach. ...Really, you look great. Not  
at all indecent."

"Okay, captives, let's move out," said Steve.

"No, if I can't have my shirt on, then Jenny shouldn't have one on either," protested Shelley.

"Shelley! No! I'm not taking my shirt off." Trying to change the subject I said, "Is this the way we're supposed to walk?"

"Yeah, that's right."

As we started walking, Shelley continued with her mischief, "Come on. You guys have to take Jenny's shirt away too. It isn't fair that she get's to keep her shirt on and I don't." Although she was speaking in a lighthearted manner, I was not amused.

"Well... Uh... I mean, like, what are we supposed to do?" asked Ralph doubtfully. "Like, descend on her and tear her shirt off?"

"Yeah. Why not? Back there I heard you say ‘I take what I want.'"

Steve protested, "Get real, Shelley. You're just saying that because you know we'd never do it. Not if Jenny says no."

"Well, how bout if I do it?" replied Shelley.

"Now THAT is an entirely different matter," said Ted. All three guys were grinning expectantly.

The struggle for my shirt.

I didn't like the sound of this at all. More by instinct than by rational thought, I started running.

"Hey, she's trying to escape. After her!" All four of them gave chase.

I was dashing through the woods, trying to angle back into the girls territory. But Ted was too fast, and cut off my escape route. I tried to dodge around him, but he grabbed me ...by the wrist. As I tried to scratch him with my other hand, he grabbed that too.

While I was yanking backwards away from his grip, arms extended before me, Shelley came up behind me and pulled my T-shirt up over my head and off.

Ted let go of my wrists, and grabbed the T-shirt off my forearms. I stumbled backward and fell on my butt. I covered my bare breasts with my arms. Nobody said anything. ...I just sat there feeling like I might start crying.

Steve, apparently sensing that I was really upset, came up and very softly, barely touching, stroked the hair from my face. "Oh Jenny, I can't stand seeing you upset. Not about a silly T-shirt. If you really have to be completely covered to feel like a whole human being, I'll get your shirt back for you. ...Or I'll try anyway."

Steve, as I've mentioned in a previous story, is no dummy. He's got a quick mind, and is as good verbally as he is mathematically. And he knows me. He knows that I don't hold with mindless adherence to convention. And he knows that my concept of living as a whole human being has nothing to do with dwelling in a time and place, a culture, where women always keep their tops covered. ...In retrospect, I think his words were somewhat calculated.

I replied, "Oh, go to hell. Keep your spoils. I'm not speaking to any of you anymore." With that, I got up and started walking in the direction we had been going, toward their jail area.

With them behind me, I forced myself to drop my arms to my sides, as if it were perfectly natural for me to be walking through the woods topless. ...If ‘natural' means unselfconscious, then nothing could be further from my mind state. But wearing less clothes not only seems to make you more aware of your posture, which affects your mind-state, but also seems to make you feel stronger, more conscious of your musculature. And even though I don't have bulgy muscles, still I think I'm in respectable shape. ...But I hate  
to sound as if I measure my self worth by physical traits, because I don't, or at least I hope I don't.

Anyway, I tried to convince myself that there was nothing for me to feel uptight about if my body was revealed. ...And I reminded myself that there really is a disparity that guys can peel off their tops as comfort dictates, but girls cannot.

Ralph and Steve were hastening after me ...probably wanting to be able to look at my front. Further back Ted was urging Shelley to hurry up; she had not yet begun to move, however.

Ralph and Steve caught up with me, walking briskly on either side, eyeing me. I tried to ignore their ogling. It wouldn't be so bad to be topless if they wouldn't keep staring at me. I wonder if guys would be willing to take their shirts off if everyone stared at them.

"Would you mind keeping your eyes to yourself?"

"There's no law against looking, is there?" replied Ralph.

"You're a jerk."

"Jenny... Um... Would you get annoyed at me," asked Steve, "if I told you that you're cute when you're mad?"

I couldn't help being slightly amused. Nevertheless, since women are supposed to interpret that kind of statement as meaning that guys aren't taking them seriously, I tried to frown at him, and said, "I'm already annoyed at you."

Apparently unperturbed, Steve laughed and said, "Well anyway, I'm glad you're still speaking to us."

"Oh... Uh... well, actually, I'm not speaking to you. So go away. And take your greasy eyes with you."

"Hey, you know, in Europe lots of girls go topless at the beach. Haven't you ever seen those kind of photos?"

"No. Unlike you, I don't collect jpegs of nude women," I replied.

"Oh... Well, yeah, but the point I'm trying to make is that in some cultures it would be perfectly natural to go topless."

"Yeah. But if you were in that kind of culture you wouldn't go around staring at me."

"Hmm... I suppose. ...Do you think breasts wouldn't look so wonderful if they were always out?"

"Go away. Is your mind incapable of grasping anything except breasts?"

Ralph interjected, "It's my hands that would like to grasp some breasts."

I gave him a caustic look but said nothing.

Steve continued, "No, now that I think about it, I think they would still look great even if they were always out. In our culture women show their legs all the time. But still, I love to look at them."

"You do?" I wondered, is Steve always checking out my legs? ...Oh well, I guess I notice people's bodies too. Maybe it's not a big deal.

"Well, we're almost there." Steve motioned to a clearing up ahead.

I guess I was getting used to being half naked. I was feeling comfortable enough for some mischief. "This is far enough for me. You can keep going."

"No, you gotta go on. We're gonna tie you up on the other side of the clearing. "

"Tie me up? Don't you dare! I'm not going another step."

"Yes you are." Grinning, Ralph picked up a slim whippy switch.

I crossed my arms over my chest. I didn't want to back down - not yet. Eyeing him warily, I said, "Don't you dare touch me with that thing."

Ralph swished it threateningly through the air a few times. Grinning apprehensively, he tapped the switch against my calves. I frowned at him. Tentatively, watching my reaction, he started tapping it on my thighs. "Quit it, Ralph."

"Are you going to obey me?"

"Obey you? You twit."

He slapped it down harder on my thigh.

I looked to Steve. "You're not going to let him switch me with that thing are you?"

"Uh... well... Aren't you the one who's encouraging him?"

"Yeah. She wants the whip," said Ralph, grinning.

"I do not. Don't you touch me with that." But he took little heed of my words. Instead he started rubbing the switch up and down the inside of my thighs.

"Ralph!" I turned sideways to hinder his provocation.

He placed the switch on my rear, tapped it a couple times, brought it back, then swung it hard toward my rear with a loud swish. But he pulled the end of the stoke such that it landed only lightly.

"Ooh." My response was mostly in response to that frightening swish coming my way. It hadn't actually hurt.

"Did that hurt?"

If I admitted that it didn't hurt, he'd probably just hit me harder. So frowning at him, I said nothing, keeping my arms folded across my chest.

Sswit! That one was harder. I winced but kept silent. ...Ssswit! ...Sssswit! ...Sssswit! .  
He was hitting me progressively harder. I closed my eyes and bit my lip. He continued to switch me on the rear.

Was it true that all I needed to do to end this was to turn and walk in the direction they wanted me to walk? Perhaps so, but I didn't want to back down. ...Nevertheless, certainly it could not be true that I just wanted the whip.

Sssswit! ...Sssswit! ...Ssssswit! He continued hitting me progressively harder on the fanny. I kept my eyes squinched shut, alternately panting and holding my breath.

Ssssswit! "Ow! Oooh!" Instead of on the butt, insulated by shorts and panties, that one landed down on the bare thighs. ...Ssssswit! "Ow! That hurts." ...Ssssswit! "Ooooh!" ...Ssssswit! "Ow! Please don't."

"Are you going to obey me, wench?"

Ssssswit! "Ow!" Ssssswit! "Ahhhhh..." Engrossed, he continued whipping me on the backs of my bare thighs. Finally I dropped to my knees, and continued down, sitting on my heels. That curtailed the whipping.

"Ahhh... YEAH!" he exclaimed. "You're the best thing in the whole world to whip. What a dream..."

Catching my breath, I glanced over at Ralph, hoping that he wouldn't continue now on my bare back. I kept my arms crossed tightly over my chest. It was then that I noticed the big bulge in his crotch. Also, it had not escaped my notice that he referred to me as a ‘thing to whip': apparently merely an object to abuse. But perhaps I'm overreacting to the words.

"Come on, Ralph," interjected Steve. "That's enough now. Jenny's really hurting." Kneeling down beside me, he asked, "Are you okay?" He put his arm around me. On the far side he tried to slip his hand under my upper arm near my breast, but I held my arm tight against my body. I don't want that kind of contact with Steve.

As I squirmed, he left off, and with his arm around my back, he merely patted my arm. "I don't know what it is," he continued. "On the one hand, as a friend, I don't want anything to oppress you. But on the other hand, you are so stunning, I get such a charge out of seeing you whipped. Crazy, isn't it."

Stunning? I don't think so, even though maybe I look okay. ...But really I wish I could just  
be friends with Steve. He's one of the most interesting people to talk to. I'd rather he didn't desire me.

Ralph, apparently calming down a little, said, "Hey, I wasn't trying to hurt you bad. Just a few friendly swats. You enjoyed that, didn't you?"

Feeling rather disoriented, and not keeping up with the conversation, I replied to Steve's earlier question, "I guess I'm okay. God, that thing really hurts on the bare skin."

Inwardly, my mind was turning over my feelings about being whipped by the boys. But this is not the kind of topic I feel secure about discussing with Steve, and certainly not with Ralph.

But was it true that I really invited it? I don't think I had come here today with an intention of being stripped half naked and getting switched on the butt and thighs ...by a guy who had an insane fantasy of flailing my breasts and pussy raw. But at this point I wasn't sure of anything.

Finally it registered in my brain that Ralph had asked me if I enjoyed it. But even to that seemingly idiotic question, I couldn't seem to formulate an answer. Then Steve interrupted my thoughts by pulling me to my feet and saying, "Well, shall we move on to the clearing? It doesn't seem like you've got any more fight left in you."

I didn't argue, but simply accompanied them across the clearing. Ralph rubbed his switch up and down my legs much of the time as we walked. In retrospect I guess it was his way of feeling up my legs from a less intrusive distance. But at the time I guess I wasn't thinking much.

At the far corner of the clearing there was a old campfire pit and some decomposing litter left by people who had camped here sometime or other (illegally of course). Further over, leaning against a tree I noticed a backpack and a couple coils of rope.

"You're not really going to tie me up, are you?"

"Silence, wench!" Sssswit! Right across the butt.

"Ooh!"

"Cut it out, Ralph! Jenny can talk if she wants to. ...Even if she claims she's not speaking  
to us anymore."

"All right, all right. Sorry," replied Ralph.

"But anyway, yeah, we planned to tie you up, Jenny. You don't mind do you? It's not going to hurt."

"Of course I mind. ...Um. How about if I just sort of promise not to run away?" Realizing that sounded a bit funny, I couldn't help smiling a little.

"Yeah, right. ‘Just sort of promise...' Uh-huh... And we just sort of trust you. Right?"

"Um... Well..." At this point I turned my eyes toward Ralph, who was hunting around at the edge of the wood. He picked up a long, heavy, straight piece of fallen wood, well over two meters long, and at least as thick as my wrist.

Returning with this tall, ultra-stout staff, off of which he was peeling the decaying bark, he said, "How bout if we tie you to this staff? And we won't even tie your legs at all. That's really minimal security, right?"

"Well... um... I don't want my arms tied behind me. If you're not going to tie my wrists behind my back, then maybe it'll be okay."

"No problem. We won't tie your hands behind your back."

This seemed like the best arrangement I was going to be able to negotiate. "All right. ...But you can't tie me so tight that it hurts."

"Course not. The switch is what we use when we need to hurt you," Ralph quipped. Taking up the rope, he continued, "Here, let me have one arm."

I glanced at Steve. He was watching Ralph quizzically. Keeping my breasts covered as best I could with my right arm, I offered him my left. Holding my forearm parallel to the staff, he began circling the rope around them, binding the outside of my forearm against the staff.

Reaching my elbow, he had me straighten my arm and continued winding it up my arm until he reached my shoulder. The remaining length of the staff now extended behind me.

Extending the rope behind me, and moving to my right side, Ralph said, "Now give me your other arm."

It now dawned on me that he intended to have my arms extended out sideways... like, crucified to the staff. "Hey, wait a minute. I don't think I like this." I held my free arm tightly across my chest, resisting.

"Jenny, you already agreed to this arrangement. Now give me your arm."

"No. I don't even have a shirt on. I'm not going to have my arms tied out like that."

Ralph pick up his switch. "We'll see about that."

Ssssswit! "Ow!" Really hard across the butt. ...Ssssswit! "Ahhh! Please."

"Shall I do it on the bare skin?"

Ssssswit! Hard on the back of the thighs. "Ow! Ow...oooh..." ...Ssssswit! "Ahhhhh!" I dropped to ground, sitting on my heels.

Sssswit! "Oooooh!" Across the front of the thighs as I knelt on the ground. I doubled over to protect myself. Sssswit! "Ahhh! No..." He hit me on the bare back. Then again. And another one. I cried out with each stroke.

My left arm, bound to the staff, was sticking out to the side. He lifted up on it, trying to expose my front to him. I kept my left breast covered with my free right hand. Sswit. "Oooh!" He landed the switch on the side of my breast and on my hand. Ssswit! Harder, just above the breast. "Ow! Please stop. I'll do what you say." I didn't want to be switched on the breasts.

He poked at my breast with the switch as I protected it with my free hand. "There. Just sit up and everything will be okay. ...I wasn't hitting you too hard, was I?"

"Not too hard? Geez, Ralph, that really hurt." I sat up on my heels slowly, still keeping my free arm across my breasts.

As Ralph retightened the rope to my left arm, Steve, toying with the switch, murmured, "Jenny, you are so awesome." I noticed there was a bulge in his shorts.

Subm itting to bondage: Ralph ropes my arms as S teve watches.

Then Steve gently took my right arm and extended it out to the side against the staff. Eyes closed, I sucked my breath in between my teeth. But I did not resist. Ralph proceeded to bind that arm to the staff, finishing up at the wrist.

My arms, straight out to the sides, were now completely bound to the staff, which passed behind my shoulders. It was as if I was in some kind of crucifixion yoke.

"Ah, yeah! You're looking good, Jenny," said Ralph, standing in front of me admiring his handiwork. "So good." I could feel his eyes staring at my nipples. I looked down at them. My bare breasts rose and fell with my breathing. I hated being exposed this way before him.

Crux bondage.

I noticed that Ralph reached into his shorts to make an adjustment. "Shall we help you to your feet?" he asked.

Before I could respond, Ralph and Steve each took hold of opposite ends of the staff and raised me to my feet. Grinning to each other they then lifted each end of the staff onto their shoulders, lifting me off the ground.

"Ralph! Steve! Please..."

"Hey, this is really cool. We can transport you around this way. ...Kinda like a sedan chair, only a lot more sexy. We, your humble servants, will transport you where ever you wish, and your noble feet need never touch the lowly earth."

"Please, noble servants... I mean humble servants, or whatever you are, just let me down. I want my feet to be able to touch the lowly earth."

"Hey, but back there in the woods, you complained that you didn't want to walk."

"Oh, come on, just let me down..."

"You're going to have to tell us where your flag is hidden first."

"Never. I'll never tell you that." Actually I didn't know where our flag's defenders had set it. ...As I look back on this incident, I really don't understand why I didn't tell them straight away that I didn't know.

"Well, Jenny, maybe we'll have to hang you like this, till you tell us where your flag is."

"But you promised me that you wouldn't tie me up so that I was uncomfortable. And it's starting to hurt." I looked over into Steve's eyes.

"Um... Well... We said we wouldn't tie you so tight that it hurt. I don't think we said anything about being uncomfortable. ...But maybe you're right." With that, they lowered me to the ground.

"Steve, let's bring her over to those little trees over there and see if we can secure the ends of this thing to a pair of them."

When they lifted me off the ground again, I didn't argue. As they carried me to the edge of the woods, the most I could do to resist was to drag my toes when they sometimes reached the ground.

The guys found a pair of slender sassafras trees the right distance apart, set me down, and after having me kneel on the ground, tied the ends of my yoke staff to the trees.

As I knelt there before him, cruxxed on the staff, Ralph stood eyeing my naked and outstretched front. "I like the tits," he said, and passed his hand over my breasts.

I squirmed, trying to avoid his touch. Now I felt it was a real mistake getting myself into this situation. Eyes, as much as I don't like them on me, are nothing compared to hands taking liberties with my body.

"Yeah. Stiff nipples," he said, prodding them. As I squirmed more intensely, he asked, "Feeling vulnerable?" Then he took hold of both my nipples, and pinched.

I winced. He then yanked on them hard. "Ahhhh. Don't..." I begged.

Steve spoke, "Hey, cool it, Ralph. When Jenny agreed to be tied up, I don't think she necessarily agreed to have you torture her tits."

With a final twist, Ralph let go of my nipples. I looked at Steve gratefully. Smiling at me, he took the opportunity to stroke his hand gently across my breasts.

Ralph frowned at him. "Well then, on your feet, Jenny," demanded Ralph.

"What? How can I do that?"

"On your feet, legs straight," insisted Ralph, pulling on my hips, back and up, forcing me into a bent-over position, legs vertical, body horizontal. "Hey, perfect. This height for the bar works either for having you bend over or having you kneel. ...Feel free to kneel again  
whenever you'd rather have me punish your titties instead of your butt."

I held my bent-over position. If I was going to take punishment, I definitely did not want it on the bare breasts.

Looking back I saw Ralph take up his switch. Out of the corner of my eye I watched as he placed it on my rear end and rubbed it up and down. I did not protest. I merely watched what was happening with a morbid fascination, almost as if my mind were separated from my body.

"Now, legs apart," he ordered. I obeyed. "That's good. ...Now, are you going to tell us where your flag is?"

I shut my eyes and shook my head.

"You sure?"

I just waited silently as Ralph continued to rub the switch against my rear end.

Ssswit! "Mgh." ...Ssswit! ...Sssswit! ...Sssswit! I tried to keep quiet as he switched me on the butt. ...Sssswit! ...Sssswit!

"Hold up a minute," interrupted Steve. "I think we better check her ass out and see how she's holding up. All told today, you've given her a lot of swats."

Bent over, so vulnerable from behind.

With that, Steve eased my shorts and undies down part way. "Mmm... Nice. Just a bit pink." After exposing the rest of my butt, he softly caressed my buns. "Ah, yeah! So good. You're looking so good, Jenny. Still silky smooth. Nothing to worry about."

Steve then eased my shorts and panties down the rest of the way to the ground. I cooperated by stepping out of them, leaving me completely naked  
...and bent over as I was, completely vulnerable from behind.

"Now spread your legs again," ordered Ralph, tapping the inside of my thighs with the switch. "Yeah, that's good." He rubbed the switch back and forth on my pussy lips, then tapped on them firmly. I squirmed and quivered.

"Just consider yourself lucky you don't live in a BDSM Library story," he continued. At the time I had no idea what he meant by that. ...But he left off harassing my pussy and started rubbing it up and down my butt.

Steve remarked, "Jenny, I don't think you could ever comprehend how good you look."

I was mulling over how to respond to that, if at all, when we heard the sound of voices in the distance. I stiffened. "Who is it? Don't let them see me this way. Please."

"No sweat. It's just Ted and Shelley, and uh... somebody... It's Mick."

My spirit leaped at that news. Mick would rescue me from these awful straits, wouldn't he?

"Yeah, it's Mick," agreed Ralph. "Think the offense squad captured the girls' flag?"

Looking back, I could see the three of them. Shelley was laughing as Ted carried her piggy-back.

"What the hell is going on here?" demanded Mick as soon as he arrived. "What have you done to Jenny?" He dropped to his knees and gave me a hug. "Are you okay, Jenny?" My eyes welled with tears of relief.

"It's okay, it's okay," insisted Steve, seeming a bit flustered. "You know... we had to tie her up to keep her from escaping... and uh... we just gave her a few strokes with a switch."

"Why?" demanded Mick.

"Why? Uh... Oh yeah, of course. We were trying to get her to tell us where the girls' flag is hidden. So we actually had a good reason. But, you know, with a girl like Jenny, you sort of get so caught up in the thought of whipping her that you forget you had a legitimate reason. Heh-heh, you know, it's like just being Jenny is reason enough to get whipped."

Mick, still caressing me, smiled at that. "Well, uh, maybe we don't need to go into that. ...But are you okay, Jenny?"

"Um... Well... I guess I am. But I'd be a lot more okay if you'd untie me and let me get dressed again."

"Oh? Uh... Why?" Mick's expression had a mixture of mischief, anticipation, and trepidation.

I knitted my brows. "Mick! What do you mean, ‘why?' Do you think I wanted to be stripped, tied up, and whipped with a switch?"

Steve protested, "Well, you're the one who insisted you'd never tell us where the girls' flag is, no matter what. If you were that distressed by what we were doing, you could have just told us what we wanted to know."

Shelley interjected, "Jenny, how could you know where our flag is? You never went back with the defense people; you came forward with me."

"Uh... Well... Yeah. Actually I don't know where it is."

Ralph burst out laughing. "So she was pretending she knew so we would try to make her tell. Didn't I tell you she wanted the whip."

Now I didn't know what to say. I felt so embarrassed, humiliated. Had I really encouraged them to torment me? Does some part of me enjoy having to submit to their sadistic whims? Am I really crazy?

"Hey, lay off, Ralph," said Mick. "Don't let him get you all uptight, Jenny. You know how much we cherish you."

"I second that," agreed Ralph. "In my book any girl who wants the whip is awesome."

"Ralph, can you just shut up?" countered Mick, glaring at him.

At this point I tried to put the best face on it. "Well, you know, I never said I knew where our flag was. You just assumed I did. I wasn't sure you'd even believe me if I claimed otherwise."

"Well, the whole issue is moot anyway," Mick interrupted. "Because I already know where their flag is. But that doesn't do much good. Except for me, our whole offensive squad got captured. I'm lucky I got away. You know that rocky promontory? That's where their flag and jail is. It's real easy to defend. And they're really well coordinated. Besides the pair of two-way radios we gave them, they have some of their own that they didn't tell us about." Looking at me he asked, "Are you two the only ones they sent forward?"

"I'm not telling you anything about our strategy," I replied haughtily.

"Give her the whip. Give her the whip," chanted Ralph softly.

Mick frowned at him. "The point is, with almost all of our offensive team captured, either we all go forward and hope things go better, or we wait for a stalemate, or we surrender this game and try again. Actually, I don't mind surrendering this game and starting over - so the captured guys can get out of jail and back into a game."

"Hell no, I'll never surrender," insisted Ralph. "Lose to a bunch of girls? They must've cheated. I say let's give Jenny the whip."

"What's Jenny done to deserve the whip?" asked Mick. "Other than... uh...."

"Other than just being Jenny," broke in Steve, grinning, perhaps completing a thought Mick had decided not to voice.

"Well, how bout this?" said Ralph. "If Jenny will submit to fifty strokes with the switch, I'll agree that the girls have earned a victory."

Ted, now sitting on the ground with Shelley in his lap, protested, "Jenny can't take fifty strokes with a switch. Shit, man, she's only a girl."

Annoyed, I said, "What do you mean, ‘only a girl'! There you go again." In retrospect, I guess this was not the ideal time to raise that kind of issue, but I had confronted Ted about his male chauvinistic attitudes in the past, and my mind-set was never to let him get away with that kind of stuff.

"Well then hell, give her the whip then, if she thinks she's so tough," he replied, aggravated.

Shelley put in, "Jenny is tough. She can easily take fifty strokes, or even more. You show em, Jenny. ...And we win if she takes them all, right?"

Now what had I gotten myself into? And what ever spawned this notion that I'm really tough? That's not an attribute I associate with myself. ...But it was easy enough for Shelley to volunteer me for a whipping; she wasn't the one who would feel it.

"Um... Well... It is true that Jenny's got a lot of fortitude..." said Mick. "Um..."

Uh-oh... As much as Mick might want to cultivate an image as my chivalrous protector, and as much as he genuinely might wish to spare me any serious distress, I knew that his mind was very susceptible to BDSM impulses. ...Well, at least with him involved, perhaps I  
wouldn't need to worry about things getting completely out of hand.

Nevertheless, I could emphatically say NO. I didn't think they would proceed if I steadfastly objected. But that option was so unpalatable to me. ...But why? I know that I didn't join this game with any intention of being stripped of my clothes and whipped with a switch. Is there some sort of charge I get from such submission? Is it related to some kind of energy that fortifies martyrs? Maybe, maybe not. I don't know what it is.

"Well, let's take a look at you." continued Mick. He examined my rear end, gently running his fingers along my butt and thighs. "I can see individual stripes on your thighs, but they don't look bad. No marks on your butt; just sort of pink."

"That's because her butt was insulated by clothes. But her thighs got it bare," said Ralph.

Patting me on the butt, Steve said, "Jenny, it'll be no sweat. You already got all these endorphins going for you."

I did not reply. If I was to get a switching, then so be it. But I wasn't going to give them any encouragement.

"Well, who wants to go first? How about you, Ted?" asked Ralph.

"Okay, I can give her a few licks."

"No," protested Shelley, sitting in his lap. "You're staying right here with me."

"Hey, no problem," replied Ted, smiling broadly as he wrapped has arms around her and squeezed her close.

Steve volunteered, "Okay, then I'll do it." Grinning, he took up the switch, and swished it through the air a few times. "Now, keep your legs nice and straight. Arch your back downward... That's good. Legs further apart... Further."

Putting the switch between my legs, he tapped firmly on my pussy. Nevertheless, I obeyed. "That's good," he said. "Man, you are so inviting."

He placed the switch on my butt, and rubbed it back and forth. He brought it back. Ssswit! I gasped but did not cry out. He placed the switch on my butt again, at little lower. Then, ...Ssswit! And then again. ...Sssswit!

He paused between each stroke. I tried to keep quiet, but for many of the strokes I could not help voicing my gasps.

I made no attempt to count the strokes. I had no wish to get involved with numbers. All my energy was directed to dealing with the stinging pain of the switch. When I was only at the beginning, what use was it to try to keep track of how far I was away from the end. Stinging switch strokes were the present reality. The image entered my mind of an endless lifelong switching.

While Steve was laying on stroke after stroke, Mick knelt by my shoulder gently caressing me. Ralph stood in the rear, one hand in his pants, offering Steve encouragement. Ted remained sitting off to the side, cross legged, with Shelley sitting in his lap, the two of them a salt and pepper contrast together.

Every few strokes, Steve would pause and feel up my butt, murmuring "such a smooth, splendid ass" or some such thing. I was thankful for the respite, but I hated that he sometimes used the opportunity to slip his finger into my slit.

After a time, Mick asked, "How is her butt? Are you watching what you're doing?" He got up to inspect.

"Yeah, she's doing great," replied Steve, as he continued to swat me.

I felt more alone without Mick caressing me. I glanced over at Shelley and Ted. Facing me, Shelley in Ted's lap, both were watching the spectacle of my switching. One side of Shelley's bra had been pulled off her shoulder and down, while Ted caressed her breast. Shelley arched her back responsively. With his other hand, Ted tickled her ear. Shelley giggled and tossed her head, swishing her hair in his face.

Why was it that fate should decree that Shelley, cuddled in a protective embrace, should feel the gentle and playful caress of a guy's hand, while I, bound naked and vulnerable, must feel the biting sting of a guy's switch? Why did we end up at opposite poles of the experiential continuum?

And yet we do create our own reality, don't we? Pleasure or pain. Pain and pleasure. Ultimately, how different are they? Sense follows sense; thought follows thought. Is there something that infuses each moment that transcends the particulars?

After seemingly innumerable swats, Steve finally said, "God, this is so good, I could do this forever. But maybe Jenny's ass couldn't take it forever. And I suppose you guys wanna take a turn. Uh... heh-heh, I guess I didn't keep track of how many times I hit her. But there ought to be a few swats left for you."

"Hey, I'm taking just a big a turn as you did," exclaimed Ralph.

"Oh, don't worry," replied Steve. "We'll come out with the right number ...within an order of magnitude or so. Just take your turn." Then seemingly as an afterthought, he added, "Are you doing okay, Jenny?"

I didn't reply. But Mick, returning to give me hug, decided to speak for me, "I think she's doing okay. Right, Jenny?"

Still I did not speak. Not for any conscious reason. I just didn't have an opinion on the matter.

"Mick," said Ralph. "You should take your turn."

"Okay... Ah, Jenny, you are so beautiful." Mick gave me a passionate kiss on the lips. Then, rising, he went back and gently stroked my rear. "Hmm, kinda warm. But she's not marked up all that bad."

"No, man, it's a good switch. We could swat her all day with that," Ralph said.

"Hmm. I don't know about that. But she can take a few more."

"What you mean ‘a few more'? I'm not giving up my turn. It was my creative genius that set this whole thing up. Jenny couldn't resist the power of my... uh, you know, whatever."

"Bag it, Ralph," replied Mick. "You'll get your turn. Just spare me the rhetoric." As he placed the switch on my rear, he added, "Let's amend that: you'll get your turn, if Jenny lets you."

I know this sounds crazy, but those words disturbed me more than they reassured me. At the time I didn't know why, my mind being attuned to the senses, not the thoughts. But when I later reflected on it, I realized that I did not want to deal with the responsibility for my well-being. Although I don't think I drift passively through life, under these circumstances I was content simply to accept what others had decided I should receive. It's hard to explain, but there is a certain freedom in just letting go...

While Ralph sputtered to himself, Mick slid the switch over my rear, up and down, back and forth. Then he traced it down my thighs, all the way to my calves. When he then tapped it firmly against my butt, I expected him to begin swatting me momentarily.

But instead he said, "I don't know... uh... maybe I don't want a turn doing this now. Why don't you just go ahead, Ralph, and get this thing over with."

"Hey, I'm not gonna argue. Gimme the switch and I'll have at it. We know Jenny would rather have me whip her anyway. She can't resist me."

"Dream on," replied Mick.

As Ralph took up the switch, Mick knelt down beside me and put his arm around me, putting his head over my shoulder close to mine. It was comforting.

Ralph tapped the switch on my rear, and dispensing with further preliminaries, swung it into me. Sswit. . ...Ssswit! ...Ssswit! ...Sssswit! The strokes were building in intensity, but still I managed to keep quiet.

"Shit. How can I tell whether she can feel it?" Ralph exclaimed.

Ssssswit! "Ow!" That one was really hard, right where the butt meets the thighs.

"That's better. I guess she could feel that one."

"Ssssswit! "Ooooh!" ...Ssssswit! "Ahhhh! Oh god..." ...Ssssswit! "Ow-ow! It hurts! Please no..." Every one of those strokes in exactly the same place. It was on fire.

"What the hell are you doing?" demanded Mick, looking back. "Where are you hitting her?"

"It's okay. It's okay. I just hit on the same spot a few times. I won't do it again. Just wanted to see how she would respond. And you know, I gotta have verbal feedback."

Mick murmured into my ear, "That means you need to cry out." Since my intellect was barely functioning, his explanation was helpful.

Ssssswit! "Oooooh!" Apparently thinking I needed some extra encouragement in order to cry out, Mick had given my nipple a painful tweak on that stroke. I squirmed, looking at him plaintively. Ssssswit! "Ahhh!" That time Mick did not pinch me.

Ralph continued whipping me with the switch, while I gasped or cried out with every stroke. Mick was kneading my breasts. I now realized how aroused I had become.

I glanced over at Ted and Shelley. Now they were at it hot and heavy. Shelley was down, with Ted sucking on her nipple. Shelley's hand was inside her own shorts, fingering herself.

As I watched, she tilted back her head, mouth open. I was sure she was having an orgasm. Ted continued sucking her nipple, stroking her breasts. After a minute, orgasm apparently completed, and now less receptive to such strong stimulation of her nipples, she pushed Ted's head away.

But now she unzipped Ted's shorts. Ted eased out his penis, now a long stiff boner. She started sucking on it. And all the while the rise and fall of the switch continued, stinging my butt and thighs. In retrospect, I wonder how much the sound of the switch, coupled with my cries and gasps, were arousing to them.

Now Ralph began to swat the inside of my left thigh. My legs outspread, he was hitting close to my pussy. I cried out with increased vigor.

On that note, Ted began gasping and grunting bullishly through an orgasm. Shelley, wide- eyed, took it all into her mouth.

Meanwhile Mick was vigorously working my breasts, kneading their softness, tweaking, rubbing, prodding, pinching, poking, pulling, and twisting my stiff nipples. Ralph continued swatting me really hard high on the inside of the thigh. I cried out with increased desperation. He was really hurting me.

Sssswit! Hard on the labia. "Ahhhhhhh! Ow-ow..." ...Sssswit! "EEEEEE!" I screamed when he whacked it right into my slit. ...Ssssswit! "EEEEEEEEE! Ow-ow-ow!" The pain had lightning intensity. He must have hit me as hard as he could right where it would hurt the most. Pivoting on the crux bar, I dropped to my knees sobbing.

Mick leaped up. "You bastard! What did you do? Did you hit her on the pussy like that?"

Ralph backed away. "It's okay. We're done now. I had to finish with a flourish, didn't I?"

Mick shot back, "You stinking asshole. I oughta kick your goddamn butt!" I had never heard Mick talk like that. He's hardly the belligerent type - I wouldn't likely be attracted to him if he was. But certainly I appreciated that he was outraged on my behalf.

"Easy, easy," soothed Steve. Then he came over to me as I knelt on the ground, cruxxed on the bar. Kneeling beside me, and putting one arm around my back, he very gently petted my pussy with the other hand. "You're okay. You're okay. It's all done now. You were fantastic. So awesome." My sobs passed. And for some reason, I didn't feel that he was taking liberties with my body.

Mick returned to my other side. I wonder how he felt about Steve comforting me like that. I imagine Steve wondered the same thing, as he withdrew his hand from my privates. Mick gently dabbed away my tears, saying, "There. Are you okay now? I'm sorry he did that. ...I  
feel funny about this whole thing."

"Just give me a hug," I answered.

As Mick caressed me, Steve said, "Well, I suppose I should untie these ropes, right?"

"Uh... I can take care of that," replied Mick, "Why don't you guys go let the girls know that we surrender, and see if they want to start a new game. We'll join you shortly. ...But you don't have to wait for us."

"Sure," replied Steve, with a canny smile. "Take your time. You can join when you're ready." Turning to Ralph, he said, "You coming?"

"Uh. Yeah, I guess so. ...Even though I'm not sure Mick's got the wherewithal to figure out  
how to untie those knots by himself."

"We're coming too," said Shelley, finally putting on her T-shirt back on. "We'll see you two later."

As the four of them trooped away, Ralph and Steve glancing back at us occasionally, Mick turned toward untying my arms from the bar as I knelt before him. But he also seemed to be directing a lot of attention to monitoring their progress in retreating out of sight.

Becoming impatient with how long it was taking him. I finally asked, "Is there a problem with the knots?"

"Knots? Uh... No problem. Um... Are you in some kind of hurry?" He had a mischievous grin.

"Mick! You've just been pretending to fiddle with those knots."

"Oh. Hmm... You know, you might be right." With one last glance in the direction in which the four others had now disappeared, he continued, "Nice to have some privacy, don't you think?" With that he took hold of my breasts and squeezed.

"Mick! I insist that you unhand my breasts and release me immediately." Certainly my words sounded just as fake as they actually were.

Smiling, he replied, "You know, for a girl whose just taken a good whipping, you're awful bossy." He picked up the switch, and swished it through the air.

Now I was really aroused, squirming with pleasure in my bonds. I purred, "You wouldn't take advantage of me like this, would you? What have I done to deserve more of the switch?"

"What have you done? I don't know. But everybody seems to think you need to be whipped."

"But my rear end is still stinging. You don't know how many times they swatted me."

"I suppose your right. It isn't fair to keep swatting you on the butt. But you know how I'd rather whip you on the tits anyway. Right?"

"Oh, shit no! Not on the breasts."

"Call them ‘tits'. I want to hear you say tits."

"You're so bad... Okay, tits... Tits, tits, tits. There, are you happy now?"

Yeah. That's good. Mmm. Nice tits." He stroked my breasts, running his fingers over my stiff nipples. "Now ask me to whip you on the tits. Say ‘I deserve a switching right on the bare nipples.'"

"No, I'm not going to say that. I don't want to get it on the nipples with a switch. That would really hurt."

"I thought that was the idea."

"Mick..." I pleaded. I wanted to surrender myself completely. But I was afraid too. I wasn't sure I could endure it if he hit me hard on the nipples, bare, with the switch.

He picked up the switch and placed it across my breasts. I looked down at it with a mixture of fascination and dread. He rubbed the switch up and down my breasts. Each time, it bumped over my nipples, now hard as bullets.

I closed my eyes and held my breath as he drew back the switch. He brought it down on the soft lower part of my breast, a gentle stroke, not much more than a firm tap. I exhaled. He brought it down again, a bit more firmly. Then again. And again.

Bumping the switch over my nipples.

"Could you feel that?" he asked.

Opening my eyes, I replied, "Feel what? Did you do something?"

"Oh, now you're asking for it, you saucy wench," he laughed.

Ssswit! "Oooh!" That one was pretty hard, right across the nipples. I panted. The sharp sting seemed as if it was going to grow into a deeper throb that I was not going to like... But it didn't. It remained a sting, and then began to subside.

Ssswit! "Ahhhh!" Another one across the nipples. ...Then again. Ssswit! "Ow!" ...Sssswit! "Ahhhh! Ow...ow... Please no." I writhed. Now my nipples were really hurting.

He rubbed the switch across my nipples. Still I squirmed. Right now I didn't want to be even touched on the nipples with that switch.

Sswit! Above the nipples, not too hard. "Mgh." ...Ssswit! Hard to the softness of the lower breast. "Ooooh!" ...Again. Sssswit! "Ow!" ...And again. Sssswit! "Ahhhhh!"

He poked the end of the switch onto my right nipple and pressed it in. "Oh! Ow! Don't do that." He withdrew the jab, but laid the switch back on the nipple.

Ssswit! "Ow-ow!" ...Then really hard on the other nipple. Sssswit! "Ooooooh!" ...And back again, so hard. Ssssswit! "Ahhhhh! Oh god!" ...And again. Ssssswit! "Ow! My tits!" ...And yet again. Ssssswit! "Ahhhhhh! Not on the tits! Please no more!"

My nipples were on fire. I could not remain kneeling there, presenting my breasts to the switch. I struggled to my feet, the crux bar forcing me to bend forward. He could hit me on the butt if he wanted, but I couldn't take any more on the breasts.

"Ah, your sweet breasts have been well punished."

He stepped to my rear, sliding the switch down my spine as he went. I arced my back downward, presenting my butt for the switch. ...Ssssswit! "Ow!" ...Ssssswit! "Oooooh!" ...Ssssswit! "Ahhhhh!" He rained down another dozen onto my rear, with me crying out lustily with each hard stroke.

Mick rained down another dozen on my rear.

"Now that you're well whipped, I think I should take you, right here, cruxed on this bar." He slipped on a condom.

As he paused, I realized he was waiting for some response from me. I was so aroused, receptive. "You barbarian! Whipping me like I'm your little slave girl. Just for the pleasure of it. And now you're going to ravish me."

He didn't need to hear that last statement twice. From behind he crammed his shaft into my wet tunnel. I gasped as it was forced in. Neither of us had much experience. I had never been entered from this position before. And never when I was bound helpless with no control of how it was done.

Despite an initial discomfort at the abruptness of his penetration, I quickly acclimated to the feeling of being stuffed full of big penis. My labia and clit were sore from those awful swats Ralph had given me, but that did not hinder. Indeed, in some ways, the increased sensitivity compensated for the stimulative limitations of the rear entry position.

Ssswit! "Ow!" He still had that switch and had hit me on the side of the breast with it. ...Ssswit! "Ooooh!" Even from behind he had enough reach to catch my nipple with it. ...Ssswit! "Ahhhhh! No more. I don't want to be hit anymore. Just cover me. Please..."

He dropped the switch, and leaned his body forward onto mine, wrapping his arms around me. It was not like the complete envelopment of the missionary position, but the warmth of his body spread over my back, and his arms embraced me tightly. "You are so precious," he murmured. After an afternoon of punishment, that is what I wanted to hear.

There I was, with arms roped crucified to a bar fastened between two trees. Bent over, my legs straight and apart. He, behind and leaning onto me, pressing into me ever more forcefully, the heat of his body permeating to my core. His encircling arms, crossed over my front, squeezing his hands into my breasts, clenching my stiff nipples between his middle and ring fingers.

Grinding our bodies together, we were transformed into one. His body, penetrating into mine. My body, clasping him within me.

The tension so long building in my womanhood demanded release. An orgasmic electricity arced from my depths, its shimmering energy coursing through me. Now voicing low rumbling grunts, reminiscent of distant thunder, Mick thrust more ardently into me. Climactically into me. I was drawing the life-force energy of his passion into me, feeding the immensity of the electrical storm buffeting my own core. He and I no longer existed as distinct entities. There was just this energy. This ecstacy. ...Nothing but this glowing, surging intensity.