By Clayton Stillwater
It’s all Sheena’s fault.
Sheena, Queen of the Jungle. A TV show I watched as a child. In one episode she had been captured by hunters and was being marched through the jungle. The little leopard bikini was sexy enough to make an impression on me. But with her hands tied behind her back and a gag in her mouth, oh my! Even at age nine I knew that was special.
Fast forward 20 years to the Marble Mountain Wilderness in Northern California.
My name is Amy. Amy ... Doe, let’s say. In my mundane life I work at a famous used bookstore in a pleasant West Coast city. More than that I can’t reveal, because I don’t want you tracking me down. Suffice it to say that in my mundane life I seem normal. I come to work on time and avoid malicious gossip. I once served on a jury, and happily sent a con artist to jail. In my fantasy life, however, I am a bit of an outlaw myself. Hence the lure of wilderness.
Planning and preparation kept me high for weeks.
Early October. Camping at Blue Lake in my one-woman tent. As I hiked in I saw a few groups of hikers headed out, but no one else was going higher, given the lateness of the season and the risk of early snow. I needed to be alone to play my game, and since there wasn’t a jungle handy, the Marble Mountain Wilderness would have to do.
Alone at Blue Lake. Trout hovering in clear water.
Warm in the sun. Cool in the shade.
Sitting in my tent, I squirmed out of my clothes.
Nude, I stepped out into the sun. (Well, almost nude. Moccasins. To protect my tender feet.) Catlike, I stretched, exulting in the warm sun on my freckles.
One last time I ducked back into the tent and made sure the handcuff key was easy to find.
Nude except for my moccasins, I set off around Blue Lake, carrying the heavy handcuffs so they didn’t clink. (Sheena moves like a ghost through the jungle.)
You should try it sometime. Walking naked in a forest. You have to watch out for thorns and sharp stones, but there’s nothing as exciting as a cool breeze in your pubic hair. I understood perfectly why little kids like to streak. Wearing nothing but moccasins somehow made me feel nuder.
Birds and chipmunks watched my bareskin stroll.
Leisurely, I walked to the far side of Blue Lake. It took a while. (Sheena does not wear a watch.)
I sat on a smooth boulder. Sun-baked stone warm on my bottom. Across the lake my campsite was hidden in the trees, but I knew roughly where it was by the dead Douglas fir leaning out over the water.
Perched on the boulder, I contemplated the cuffs. Everything around me (trees, lake, birds) had grown or evolved naturally, but this metal was forged in a factory somewhere. The company name and the patent number engraved in the shiny steel were clues to an alien civilization. (Sheena puzzles over a mysterious artifact presented to her by her faithful chimpanzee sidekick.)
I snapped a cuff on my left wrist, and gradually ratcheted it tighter. Then I put my arms behind my back and set the other cuff on my right wrist. Quickly, so I didn’t have time to chicken out, I locked it too.
Naked. Handcuffed. A long walk from the key.
I am such a slut that I immediately tried to reach between my legs and get myself off. Couldn’t quite get my fingers there. I also tried to get pass my wrists under my bottom and to the front, but couldn’t without dislocating my shoulders. Gotta defer that gratification, Amy. Let the tension build.
I clambered down from the boulder and resumed my journey around Blue Lake.
It was different now. I felt vulnerable. I mean, rationally, I knew I had the place to myself. But the forest now seemed to swarm with hikers, lumberjacks, mountain men, Aryan Nation commandos, FBI agents tracking the Aryan Nation commandos... Hordes of evil white hunters, any one of whom would know just what to do with a slender blonde woman who was naked and chained.
I got wet just thinking about it. It was frustrating, not being able to reach my cunt.
I’d experimented with self-bondage before, but only in my apartment. Outdoors was different. If someone knocked on the door while I was tied up in my living room, I could just lie still until he went away. Out here, though, there were no property laws to protect me.
Physically it was more fun than just lying on a futon. Blue Lake was real wilderness. Meaning, no trails. I had to climb over boulders, work my way around trees toppled by storms. I had to be careful so I didn’t fall. Not being able to use my arms for balance made my whole body feel different. The hips and legs became crucial, and those muscles fed into the pelvis. I was keenly aware of my vagina, wide open and inviting.
My head was weird too. Sans clothes I felt like an animal. When I hiked in I felt strong and competent, a poster girl for REI. Now I was weak, the forest full of dangers. Fear made the colors more intense, the odors sharper. If the wind rustled a leaf I flinched. (Sheena has escaped from the hunters, but they are hot on her trail. If they recapture her...)
Swept up in my erotic dream, I made my way through the forest.
By the time I circumnavigated Blue Lake I was beginning to tire. (Sheena should have eaten more carbos for breakfast.) Despite my caution I was scratched all over. My wrists and shoulders ached. The buzz was wearing off, and all I wanted to do was reach my tent and free myself and brush the damn hair out of my face.
I wasn’t sure how far I’d come, so I looked across the lake, and figured out where I’d been when I put on the handcuffs. Right... there. Then I drew an imaginary line across the lake, and calculated I must be nearing my tent. Good job, Amy. I stepped forward eagerly.
Jumped behind a tree.
There was a man in the woods in front of me.
Heart pounding, I bit my lip. Then I knelt and carefully peeked around the tree.
A man. Wearing jeans and a khaki shirt, so he probably wasn’t a ranger. Lying on the ground, head on his pack, reading a book. Smack dab between me and my tent.
Kneeling at the foot of the pine tree, I strategized.
Mr. X was either camping or taking a break. If he moved on, no problema. When he left I could complete the dash to my tent, free myself, live happily ever after.
But suppose he decided to camp in that lovely spot on the shore of scenic Blue Lake? To reach my tent/key I had two choices. Slip past him without getting caught. Or double back. Retrace my hike all the way around the lake!
I knelt behind the pine, waiting to see what he did.
An hour passed. My knees ached. I was weary and hungry.
Finally he closed the book and stood.
My hopes soared.
He unzipped his pack and took out a small tent.
By now it was afternoon. The air cooling off. Sheena no doubt would have trotted back around the lake and sneaked into her camp from the other side, but Amy was a city girl. Running on empty.
Time to get sneaky.
Cautiously I backed away until I couldn’t see him. This took a while, as the trees were scattered at this altitude. Lots of open space and patches of meadow to break up the forest.
Walked uphill away from Blue Lake.
Continued my circuit of the lake, albeit much farther out.
When I judged I was well past the intruder I quietly descended toward the lake. Thank god for the moccasins. They were so thin I could feel what was under my feet, so if my foot touched a twig I could put my weight elsewhere and not make any noise. More silently than the wind, I eased down toward the lake, and when I saw the water glittering through the trees I resumed my circuit. I’m going to make it, I thought. Sheena rules! Unless she overshoots the tent.
He stepped from behind a big pine. Grinning. Not six feet away. I’m sorry to admit I yelped. Then I pulled myself erect and gave him my frostiest stare. "Hello." No point in cringing, so I pulled back my shoulders and tried to look regal.
He gazed at my breasts. "Having a nice hike?"
"Yes. It’s a lovely day." I looked past him, as if he didn’t exist, and took a step.
He blocked my path.
"Hey, what’s the hurry? Let’s talk."
"Please step aside. My husband is expecting me."
"Husband? Where’s he camping?"
"With me, of course."
"That’s strange. I noticed your camp. All I saw was one sleeping bag and a little tent. Is your husband camping somewhere else?"
He smiled the smile you see on chess players when they’re several moves ahead.
"I bet you’re thirsty. How about some water?"
He gestured politely, like a waiter at a fancy restaurant, which only emphasized my helplessness and nudity. Reluctantly, I let him lead me to his campsite.
He spread out a blanket and we sat on the ground. I couldn’t think of a way to cover myself, short of lying face down, and that position might be misinterpreted, so I sat cross-legged facing him. (Sheena lets it all hang out.)
He was a dork, with uncool glasses and a badger haircut. It turned out he was a mathematician/programmer who coded UNIX for NASA. He had just solved a gnarly tangle of asteroid orbits, and was celebrating by going primitive. "I was inspired by a science fiction novel I read. Odd John, by Olaf Stapledon. It’s about a mutant who develops his psychic powers by living in the wilderness."
Oh great. I was in the clutches of a nerd who read science fiction. Probably a Trekkie.
"What do you do?"
"I work in a bookstore."
"That’s fabulous. Do you get an employee discount?"
"Actually, I don’t have much time to read."
"Because of hobbies like this?"
I blushed. He seemed like someone easy to manipulate, given my looks. If he hit on me at Starbucks I could annihilate him in 30 seconds. Hell, he wouldn’t have the nerve to approach me at Starbucks. But here... I was completely at his mercy. As we talked he studied my body, and obviously he liked what he saw. Which was everything.
"So what’s the deal?" he asked.
"Just acting out a fantasy."
"What’s the fantasy?"
"You’re so smart, you figure it out."
I really should control my smart mouth.
Up until that point he hadn’t touched me. He was enjoying the situation, sure, but being so respectful that I was beginning to think I could talk him into letting me go.
It turned out he had a coil of rope in his pack. And he was strong. Since when do mathematicians have muscles?
He hung me upside down, ankles tied to a tree branch so I dangled in midair, accessible from all sides. My handcuffed wrists were tied to a rope around my waist. My ankles were tied a few feet apart so my vagina was wide open. It was also right at eye level. He took a good sniff, then caressed my pussy and ran his hand up my thigh. I have to admit, I needed the stimulation, but things were getting out of control.
"Here’s the situation, Amy. I’m going to ask you some questions. If you tell me the truth, I will lick your lovely blonde slit and give you pleasure. If you lie to me, I will take this rope and whip your naked ass. Do you understand?"
"What is your name?"
He whipped me. Only once, but so hard that I screamed. It felt as if he’d taken a hot poker to my bottom.
"Amy! It’s Amy! Honest!" I gasped.
"What is your name in the fantasy?" he growled.
It was hard to read his expression upside down, but I saw where he was going.
He stepped up to my crotch. He took a buttock in each hand, and gently swung me against his face. His tongue flickered into my vagina. Oh lord. He explored me aggressively, quickly found my clit, and sucked and nibbled it eagerly. My head thrashed from side to side, dizzy with the blood pooling there. While my bottom still stung from his swat, my cunt was turning on. Jesus!
He made me squirm for a while, then stepped back. "Good girl," he said. "What was Sheena doing out there?"
I thought carefully. "Trying to avoid the hunters."
He pondered this. He looked at me so hard I could hear the gears going around. Then he stepped around behind me. Whoosh! went the rope. I screamed again.
"What was Sheena doing out there?" he roared.
"Hoping the hunters would capture her!" I wailed.
Again the tongue. God, he was good. My eyes were inches from the crotch of his jeans, so I could tell he was enjoying this too. I was so wet I was glad my cunt pointed up; in my normal posture the juice would have been dripping down my legs. The quick shifts between pain and pleasure were like flashes of lightning. Intense! Not to mention that a total stranger had me strung up in the woods, hanging naked from a tree, with night coming on and no help for miles. I had zero control over what happened next, and to my surprise, it was a turn on.
He continued to interrogate me.
He untied my ankles. Slinging me over his shoulder, he carried me back to the blanket and laid me out. The sky grown purple. How much time had passed?
As I lay on my back, gazing up at the fractal tree branches, he cut a piece of rope and tied my ankles together. Tied them securely, with many loops of rope, and firm cinching.
Then he tied my knees together. Rats. I wanted him in me. Oral sex is nice, but it’s just not as satisfying as being pounded by a hard cock driven by a pelvis.
He sat back and studied my helpless body. "What brings you here, Sheena?"
"Sheena protect animals. Sheena hear bad hunters killing them."
"Not here. This is federal land. They’re safe."
"There’s another problem, though. Are you aware of the rules governing livestock in the Marble Mountain Wilderness?"
"Cattle. Sheep. Horses."
"Sheena no see cattle."
"This is federal land. Any stray livestock that doesn’t have a brand becomes the property of whoever finds it."
"You don’t have a brand." He rolled me over and fondled my bare bottom. No tattoos, thanks to my squeamishness about needles. "That means I can keep you."
"Sheena not livestock."
"Ah, but I think you are."
He went to my camp to fetch the key. When he returned he released the cuffs and tied my arms behind my back with rope. I didn’t see any point in resisting. He outweighed me by a good 100 pounds, and was in great shape for a computer nerd. Lying on the ground, trussed up like a UPS package, I was indeed a captured animal. I was just thankful he didn’t sling me on a pole like a deer.
Night fell. He built a fire. My side tingled with the warmth.
He whittled on the end of a long stick, then thrust it into the fire. When the end was burning, he retrieved it and blew out the flame. The coal glowed in the night.
Oh god. Was this maniac going to brand me?
He had a little camp chair, the kind without legs, where the seat is flat on the ground. He took off his jeans and underwear and arranged himself in the chair in front of me. At least he was circumcised. I’ve always found that extra flap of skin creepy. It reminds me of turkey wattles.
"Here Sheena," he said, stroking his cock. "Here girl."
"What happens if I don’t?" I sniffed.
He reached out with the stick, like a magician pointing a magic wand, and brought the glowing coal toward my bottom.
"Don’t!" I gasped. Desperately I struggled and inched and wiggled close to him. I nuzzled my face into his crotch, frantically licked his scrotum and cock. Salty and sour from the day’s hike. But I didn’t complain. Not with his stick resting on my right buttock, and bits of hot ash falling on the back of my thigh.
I experimented, trying to find how he liked it. Finally I focused on the tender head, being very careful to keep my teeth out of play.
"Ah, that’s good," he sighed, leaning back in his chair, still holding the stick ready to brand me. Idly he tapped my buttocks, like a sadistic conductor disciplining a recalcitrant violinist. Only the unburned part of the stick touched my skin, but I felt the heat from that hot ember. Frantically I tongued his penis, craning my neck, eager to please.