Chapter Five

Nicole found herself once again awash in a confusing complexity of sensations, feelings, and thoughts. Her fevered brain was bathed in the potent neurochemical soup that all submissives found so addictive. There were endorphins excreted to counteract the now-subsiding pain of her chastisement leaving her with a purely narcotic high, and the other hormones of sexual release and bonding. This created for the second time a uniquely pleasurable state that she once again registered as far preferable to any drug-induced high she'd ever known. Rafe had researched this issue online before agreeing to take on her rehabilitation, theorizing that many repetitions of this cycle of punishment and reward could gradually unwire her drug-craving circuitry, and replace it with a deep attachment to him. This could then be gradually extended to others as she recovered, with a hoped for end point of her being able to be independent in the world.

The bound and splayed penitent was also a bit surprised at the subtle sense of loss she felt as his cock shrank inside her aching back passage. This felt acutely worse when he pulled back and slipped from inside her with a satisfied sigh, cleaning himself on his handkerchief before stowing his sated genitals back in his Levis. She was expecting him to untie her, and was stunned when he declared: ‘Well, naughty one, that was a rather complex adventure you just put us both through. I'll be heading back down to sleep at the cabin, though I'll be leaving the cleanup for you in the morning. I hope you pass an interesting night up here.’

The Foreman then buttoned up and turned to saunter back to his horse, who had been placidly grazing during the whole noisy proceedings of the past several hours. Nicole spoke rather urgently: ‘But, Sir, I'm really hungry, and really thirsty, and I have to pee, and it's really scary to think about being out here like this all alone for the whole night! Please don't leave me like this!’

He laughed a bit cruelly, and retorted: ‘Well, naughty girls like you need to have some lessons like this one about consequences for bad behavior in order to get it through their thick skulls that they need to control their impulses. Sleeping indoors, or even untied, is a privilege, not a right, and needs to be earned by good behavior. As does eating, or even drinking, or not having to pee all over themselves upside down (though if you lean your head as far back as possible it may not dribble down your face). I reckon you'll be safe enough out here, though that fire on a ridge top might attract some unpredictable attention. I doubt it would be from humans, though the kind that might be on the loose in these badlands could be the sort inclined to...well...take some advantage of a gorgeous woman like you displayed in such a...convenient, shall we say...fashion. But if I were you, I'd be a bit more concerned about Old Scarface. He's the big mountain lion whose territory includes the Ranch, and he's likely to stop by to investigate the fire. If he's fed recently, you'll probably be okay, and just be sniffed a bit. But if he's hungry...’

Nicole howled once more, absolutely terrified at the prospects so casually laid out by her captor for her night on the hilltop. She begged: ‘At least give me some water, please Sir, I'm so thirsty!’ He laughed again, replying: ‘Sorry, naughty girl, but once again you should have thought about this possibility before running off. It takes two days under the hottest sun for a person to die of thirst, and I'm quite confident you can survive in perfect health until the morning, at least on that account.’

Nicole had slept under the stars not too infrequently on visits to her Uncle, but always with him and her Aunt along and his police handgun close at hand. This was totally different, and she felt an even stronger fear than she had before any of her horrible punishments. She'd never been raped, though there had been a few close calls in the dicey world she had inhabited once she ran away from home the first time at age seventeen. The thought of disgusting mountain men having their way with her was an ultimate fear, and the possibility that a large predatory beast might stop by was off-the-charts scary.

Of course, Rafe would not have put her (or any being under his charge) at real risk. He was quite confident that there was not another human being within twenty miles, given the aridity and, frankly, unattractiveness of the country outside the Arroyo. No one could imaginably have a reason to be bushwhacking out there, especially at night, with no natural water sources outside the Ranch either. And as for Old Scarface, the Foreman happened to know that the big cat had taken down a deer the day before, because he'd seen the condors circling and spotted through his binoculars the carcass being dragged to a hiding place by the mountain lion. Such animals did not kill for pleasure, unlike humans. So if the alpha male cat stopped by, he was likely only to give the prisoner a good scare, which was all to the good. Such an experience would make her even less likely to attempt another escape over the ridge. And his naked bent and splayed captive had already seen that the entrance to the valley was totally sealed by razor-wire-topped fences extending all the way to the cliffs.

So Rafe mounted up, ostentatiously taking with him Nicole's tennis shoes, and bade her an ironic good night before heading off carefully down the hill in the pitch darkness. He was grateful that the sorrel knew this terrain so well, as otherwise the trip could have been quite hazardous even for as accomplished a horseman as he was. But within half an hour he was safely back at the cabin, untacking and stabling the sorrel, and rolling out his sleeping bag under the stars after a short supper of a couple of energy bars. He thought with some amusement of what his captive must be experiencing that very same moment, and drifted off to satisfied slumber until he was awakened by the raising sun.

Things went rather differently for his prisoner. Once the sound of Rafe's horse's hoofbeats faded off into the night, she was exposed to a silence the like of which she had never experienced in her urbanized life. Even when she'd been horse camping with her Uncle, there had always been other people around, as well as the horses and the electronic devices he reluctantly allowed her to keep and use during their outings. Now, especially as the wind died down to near stillness as the night deepened, the only sound in her world was the faint crackling of the fire about six feet in front of her inverted face. The lack of noise alone was deeply unsettling to the bound and bared young woman, who had never until this moment realized how dependent she was on ambient noise to feel grounded.

And then there was the very confusing world of Nicole's bodily sensations. The throbbing ache of her many spankings continued to gradually fade, until it had become almost unnoticeable background. But the sexual aftermath stayed with her, kept alive by the submissive cachet of being stripped, splayed, and spanked, resulting in the persistent sensations between her legs. She had never had this many climaxes in a week in her life up to this point, let alone in less than half a day, having stopped counting them after a dozen or so.

And the biggest surprise, and most maddeningly persistent sensation, was what her dark god had done to her back passage. It was as though he had awoken it, an entryway to a rawer, cruder, more primal sexuality than she had ever imagined she was capable of. Her anal ring still faintly registered the overwhelming sensations of being stretched to over twice the extent it had ever before. And her traitorous pussy continued to cheerfully exude its mortifying liquid evidence of total approval of what had transpired for its neighboring orifice.

But there were other, less overtly erotic sensations that increasingly dominated her awareness. The primary one was thirst, followed a close second by hunger. Her last meal had been a meager lunch of a peanut butter and jelly sandwich at noon, and her last drink of water had been a gulp from the faucet of the cabin's bathroom right before she climbed out the window on this ill-advised escapade. Now that she had detoxed from the meth, she had recovered her lifelong healthy appetite, and her stomach was sending an unambiguous message that it needed sustenance.

Next down the list were her bound wrists and ankles. Rafe had tied the rawhide thongs with his usual carefulness as an experienced dom. They were tight enough that his subject could not escape but loose enough for there to be adequate circulation to her hands and feet. Nonetheless, her blood supply to those appendages was restricted enough that they were all going numb. And then there was the rest of her skin, totally unprotected against the night air. She was grateful there seemed to be no mosquitoes in the arid hills, but the night was cooling and her back and the fronts of her thighs and arms were feeling distinctly chilly, since they were not warmed by the gradually dying fire. What would it be like when it went out completely?

These thoughts swirled around Nicole's characteristically disorganized brain for an uncomfortable eternity before her bladder's urgency took over everything. And then she decided she would have to just let go, and hope that the result would not be too disgusting or worsen her misery even more. To her pleasant surprise, there was apparently enough pressure pent up inside her, or the anatomy of her urethra was propitious. The golden stream actually arched out well free of her body to land noisily on the grass between her and the fire until she was fully relieved, at least of that discomfort. Maybe Rafe's other taunts were equally overstated, she found herself hoping as the endless minutes ticked by.

Perhaps she dozed a little, or maybe hypoglycemia and dehydration were making her delirious. But some unknown infinity of time later Nicole startled as a dark shape seemed to pass between her and the dully glowing embers of the almost dead fire. She started trembling immediately, fearing that it could be the desperadoes her captor suggested might be lurking to rape her, or even worse, Old Scarface come to eat her. She could not hear any sounds, and that sense had always been one of her most acute ones. So she doubted any human wanderer could be responsible. But then the dark shape returned, and stopped to sniff the grass where she had peed. And then there was the unmistakable sound of another being urinating where she had, but with a much more powerful scent that she knew well from her Aunt’s favorite tomcat’s catbox.

‘Oh My God!’ she thought, but managed to stifle any sounds, somehow hoping that she would escape notice if she were silent, or at least not provoke whatever it was that seemed so interested in erasing, or at least overlaying, the scent of her urination. The light was too dim to make out even a silhouette, but she nearly screamed when the shape moved closer and began sniffing her horribly exposed crotch. And then she could smell it: a sharp, acrid animal smell that had even more potent whiffs of catbox in it, and realized that Old Scarface was indeed sniffing her out. Her trembles increased, and then went over the top as the creature extended its broad, rough tongue and lapped her nether cleavage from clitoris to anus.

The sensation was delicious in and of itself, even better than her captor's own oral ministrations to the very same region. But she was convinced that it was a prelude to being bitten, or perhaps even eaten, starting from that very same most vulnerable of all places. Then a seeming miracle happened, and the lick was repeated, and soon again and again. It seemed that Old Scarface liked the taste of her pussy, perhaps even better than Rafe had. And soon, in spite of her best efforts to remain still and silent, she was coming again, her body bucking over the barbed wire and her mouth issuing its usual piggy cries of pleasure.

This not only seemed not to phase the animal, but actually increase its avidity for this unfamiliar taste treat. Of course, the licking itself was terribly arousing for Nicole, which meant that her pussy was continuing to gush with its evidence of total approval, which inevitably led to yet more orgasms, which released more exudate from her vagina, and so on. At some point, she must have passed out from the sheer intensity of this new outrage being inflicted on her naked helpless body.

Because when she next came to her senses, the sky was beginning to lighten to her left in the East, the fire was completely reduced to dead ashes, and there was no sign of any animal having ever been present. For the rest of her life, she never knew whether she'd hallucinated the whole event, or whether a randy mountain lion had licked her pussy to uncountable orgasms until she was rendered insensible and then gone his way. One has to wonder how his brain registered the whole experience...