Tuesday, July 8, 2014

The Box...

The following is an original work of fiction. Given my propensity for creating such works, I have a surplus. It dawns on me that I should probably seek a publisher and make these writings work for me (to feed my kinky addictions). If any of you dear readers have any suggestions for publishing options, please email my slave at junderb at g mail dot com.

Out in the middle of nowhere, along a long stretch of a all-but-forsaken highway, lies a farmer's field. It stretches out under the scorching sun for what must be miles in each direction. The ground is flat and dry and hot under the constant pounding of the sun. It is between the growing seasons and the crops have all been long harvested, the new seeds yet to be planted. Occasional clouds of dust would be kicked up by the wind and dance its cyclonic dance before dissipating as suddenly as it started.
In this field, there stands a lone, solitary, single box. Nearly four feet tall and nearly as wide on both sides, with a peaked roof, it is a wooden box with sheets of metal tacked to it. What paint there might have been has long been dried and sand blasted off by the wind; the wood looks faded and as dry as the dirt around it. The sun glints off the metal plates, shining for miles in all directions. For those driving along the forsaken highway, it must stand as a momentary curiosity. What is the purpose of this box out in the middle of this field? Who would build such a box? Why would they tack metal sheets to its sides?
But the box would just as quickly be forgotten as the horizon stretched on for the weary, hot travelers. Forgotten, but ever vigilant over the fields on either side, a lone centurion. Very few would ever guess the true purpose of the box, and even those that would dream up its cruel purpose would scarcely believe that anyone would actually use it for such a purpose. “Who would really do that sort of thing anyway?” they would likely think to themselves.
Along the only stretch of road the divides the two fields, comes an old pickup truck. The antiquated metal springs that serves as the shocks of this truck squeak and screech as it bumps along the old dirt road. It is the only sound of significance on a day like today beside the occasional call of a hunting falcon. A cloud of dirt and dust fills the air behind the truck like a wake, blown gently by the late morning breeze. The truck heads toward the lone box with some intent.
Finally the truck pulls to a screeching stop on the road across from the box. Its driver taking a moment to settle the engine before disembarking from the cab. Every bit the appearance of a token farmer, fraying straw hat, a faded flannel shirt, and a worn pair of jean overalls. His boots are caked with years of field work and toil. He spits into the dust littering his field, the moisture drying almost before it hits the ground.
The farmer gazes out into his fields, his eyes squinting against the brightness of the day. His face is weathered and tanned by the elements. His jaw is squared and there is a ripple of muscle movement under the flesh as he contemplates. Again, he spits into the dirt and his calloused hand reaches up to rub the corners of his drying mouth. There a rough, scraping sound as his fingers rake across the stubble rimming his mouth. The heat and dust surround him oppressively, driving his thoughts to a cold draught of water. Thoughts his tongue responds to, licking his parched, chapped lips.
As if suddenly satisfied with whatever thought he was having, he patted his leg and walked around to the back of his truck. The tail gate handle pops with a metal scrape and the hinges groan as the gate is lowered. It thumps to a halt as the restraining cables snap taught. There is a surprised squeal from the back of the truck. The farmer smiles and reaches into the back of the open bed, clasping his rough hands around one of a pair of bound ankles. He drags, pulling a chained and naked woman to the edge of the truck bed. Her body slides along a canvas tarp placed beneath her for the long ride to this forsaken spot. Her wrists are locked tightly together behind her back in thick, metal shackles. Her ankles are locked into identical shackles, connected together by about a foot and a half of heavy chain. Around her neck is a thick, heavy metal collar with a dangling ring mounted on the front and the back. Her head is covered by a burlap sack, tied tightly about her neck with rough cord just above the collar. From the moaning and groaning, it is clear that she must be gagged beneath the sack.
The chain rattles and clanks against the bed of the truck as the farmer pulls the woman to sit on the edge. She protests with gagged screams as her naked thighs touch the bare, hot metal. She twists and turns, exposing more of her flesh to the scorching truck bed. The farmer cuffs her across the face, settling her struggles instantly. He doesn't speak to her or soothe her with a hand on her body, but instead grabs her arm and hauls her off the truck bed. Her bare feet land in the sun baked dirt and rocks that make up the road. Again she screams, hopping from foot to foot. The farmer doesn't cuff her this time, but pulls on her bound arm, dragging her forward across the road. The chain dances between her hopping feet, jingling a merry tune to her suffering.
They reach the edge of the road and there are fewer bare rocks to meet her soles now. However, the dried husks and twigs of the previous harvest poke and jab at her, making the walk just as difficult. Her naked breasts bounce as she staggers in the farmer's wake. There is the muffled sounds of sobbing and cursing coming from inside the hood. The only sound that reaches the Farmer's ears as he leads her toward her destination, apart from the whisper of the soft breeze that passes by.
The heat of the day, and the effort of her struggles has brought a film of sweat to her flesh and she glistens in the midday sun. Her tight belly ripples as she sobs into the gag, her hands swaying helplessly above the curve of her ass. The chain between her feet digs into the dirt like a rake, dragging up half buried twigs and dried husks. The poking and prodding continues as she is lead blindly to her fate.
Eventually, the farmer stops and the woman falls to her knees in the dirt. The poking is less severe on the full length of her shins, though the heat of the ground burns deep into the muscles. She gasps through the gag, moaning and begging. The farmer smiles and pats her on her bagged head before reaching down to untie the rope around her neck. She subconsciously rises from the ground a bit, hoping to aid in the removal of the accursed bag. Her fingers work at the air sympathetically as he slowly unties the rope. She can feel the heat of the sun on her body and wonders if she is getting burned in the sun. More specifically, she wonders what that will result in when he next takes his flogger or whip to her. She shudders at the thought, hoping to be removed from the sun soon. Little does she realize.
The farmer winds the last of the rope around her neck free and begins to pull the bag free from her face. With the sweat building up inside, it takes more of an effort than putting it on. Finally, the lip of the bag pulls free from her face and her red hair cascades around her shoulders, sticking to her sweaty face. She squints at the blaring brightness of the day, blinking rapidly as her eyes struggle to adjust from the near blackness of the head bag. The farmer chuckles at her momentary blindness, reaching down with a rough finger to brush free the hair that has stuck to her face. She recoils at the touch as if surprised, then presses into his hand as he works.
“No flies out here, sweet meat. They ate up all that was worth having the last few months. 'Course, now that you're out here...”
She squinted up at him, loosing him the the glare of the sun. He smiled down at her and patted her again on the head. She whimpered into the gag, motioning through a little hop forward that she wanted him to tell her more. He smiled, but said nothing else. Instead, he stepped off behind her. She turned to see where he was heading, her vision starting to adjust. That is when she saw the lone box. Despite the glare of the sun, her eyes widened in fear and surprise.
The farmer walked up to the box and pulled a socket wrench from his back pocket and began ratcheting loose a couple of long bolts that held one of the sides on. He pocketed the loose bolts and pulled the side of the box free. Dust blew up and away as the panel was set to the side. The woman cringed, half expecting there to be the skeletal remains of some poor sod still sitting there. Contrary to her fears, there was nothing inside the box save a short length of chain hanging from a ring at the apex of the ceiling. The floor appeared to be concrete and a matching ring had been installed in the center of the floor.
She stared in denial at the box. Surely he would not stick her in there. She would die in the heat within an hour! The woman looked from the box, to the farmer, and back to the box. The smile spreading on his face told her that her concern was valid. She tried to get to her feet and run, but he was on her in an instant. His calloused hand clamped down on her arm and he half dragged her back toward the box. She cried in protest, tugging at his strong grip and cursing as her feet were prodded more by the ground.
The farmer chuckled as he pulled her to the side of the box, sliding his hand down her arm to her bound wrists. He torqued them up, half bending her over, and laid into her ass with a number of flesh reddening swats to her round ass. She moaned then sobbed into the gag, looking up at him from her bent over position with wet eyes. She shook her head in further protest and began begging into the gag. He smiled down at her, back-lit by the bright sun. His hand released its vice-like grip on her wrists, but his thick fingers wound their way into her hair and he pulled her straight up onto her tip toes in the dirt. She cringed and moaned.
He didn't say anything to her, just pulled her face to his with a firm grasp of his other hand so their eyes met. Then he let his hand slowly wonder down her body, tracing her curves with his fingertips. He lingered at her clavicle under the heavy metal collar for a long moment before tracing his way down the cleft of her heaving, sweaty breasts. Down further along her stretched stomach to the hairless mound of her sex. It was fun watching the defiance in her green eyes melt as his hand traversed her flesh.
He let his fingertips linger at the curve of the mound for a long moment more, feeling her shift on her toes, straining to ease the grip of his other hand on her hair. However, he noticed she pushed forward into his touch despite the extra pressure on her scalp. Eventually, he let his fingers cross the threshold to the cleft of her sex, pulling the lips apart slightly to allow his middle finger to explore. He found her clitoris engorged and eager for his touch. He rubbed at it for a moment, enjoying the shivers it sent through her. Then he probed deeper and discovered what he knew he would. His finger returned, shimmering with thick, milky moisture in the midday sun. He held it wordlessly before her face and he felt her whole body fall some. His point had been made.
He rubbed the creamy evidence along her gagged upper lip and all over the tip and underside of her nose. She gagged and snuffled at the humiliation, but her nose flared at the scent. Her eyes dilated despite the bright sun. He knew he had her. He pulled her by her hair down, forcing her onto her knees. She fell with practiced ease to the dirt, cringing only a little at the poking and prodding along her shins. The farmer stood over her, stepping up to straddle her knees and bringing his crotch to her face. She did not hesitate, pressing her face into his lap and nuzzling like a pet. She felt him grow stiff and rubbed her nose and gagged mouth along the hardening shape pressing against his overalls. His hands slipped down and pressed against the back of her head, pressing her tighter into him.
They stayed like that for a long while, ignoring the growing heat of the day for as long as they could. Before long, however, he gripped her hair tight once more and stepped away, dragging her on her knees through the dirt to the edge of the box. That terror returned and she tried to pull away. The farmer cuffed her across the face, eliciting a tear to well up in her eyes and hauled her inside.
The concrete was rough on her knees and she instinctively struggled to her feet in a crouch. The chain between her ankles scraped across the sandpaper like surface with each movement. The chain dangling from the ceiling flopped in her face as she was maneuvered into the box. If it was at all possible, it was hotter in the box then it had been outside, despite the instant shade she had been thrust into. She whined and whimpered, begging to be pulled back out. The Farmer just smiled again, that damned smile, and reached down to fasten her in. A padlock, and a large one at that, was attached to the ring in the floor and locked onto the central ring of her hobble. He then reached up and brought the chain dangling in her face behind and padlocked it to the ring at the back of her collar. She tested her bonds as he stood back to watch.
With the chain attached to her collar, she could not sit down on her ass. At best she could manage to kneel on the jagged concrete and sit on her haunches, which was not going to last long at all. The chain being locked to the ring in the floor meant that she could not shift her legs too far to one side or another, forward or backward. The roof was way too short to allow her to stand even bent all the way over, forcing her knees to be bent too much to relieve any strain. Basically she could either kneel on the punishing concrete, or squat the whole time. She tested the various options for a moment or two more before a long string of whimpers and begging came bellowing from behind the gag.
The woman looked up at the farmer with pleading eyes to see him standing over her, his cock in his hand. An instant later the hot stream of piss splashed over her gagged face and hair. She screamed, both out of shock and indignation as he pissed all over her. It cascaded down her body, soaking every inch of her. The smell was pungent and filled the small space of the box instantly. She blinked against the droplets still running into her eyes and sobbed into the now soaked gag. The stream finally dwindled as his piss puddled around her feet, dripping down her body and tickling her as gravity pulled from her. Despite being soaked, she did not at all feel any cooler in the midday heat. She glared up at his beaming face, huffing at the stench of his piss.
“Awww,” he said in a sarcastic tone, “you look like a wet bitch. Does the bitch not like being wet?”
She shook her head like a dog shaking itself from a bath, hoping that some of the cast off would splash him. He side stepped it easily and laughed a full belly laugh. Then he stepped to the side to pull the panel from its resting place. Her expression instantly changed from glaring to imploring as he walked it back into place. He leaned it against his thigh, taking one last good look at the chained, dripping woman.
“Well, bitch. I hope you enjoy. I'll likely be back by in the morning to retrieve you,” he said, closing the side of the box as her eyes widened in terror and fresh begging erupted from the piss soaked gag. Darkness surrounded her and she tugged at the chains and restraints holing her wrists. She screamed and sobbed wordlessly, making quite a ruckus. The sound of the bolts being threaded back into place filled her mind followed by the dull ratcheting of the wrench. The bolts scraped against the wood as they found their way home, the wood creaked as it was locked tightly back in place. Again she screamed, pulling and tugging and fighting as the last of the bolts was tightened.
There was a thump on the roof and she could hear his muffled voice somewhere above her.
“Quiet down now! It'll do you no good to tucker yourself out so soon. You have a long night ahead of you.”
She screamed in response, drowned out by the sopping gag, she wasn't even sure he could hear her. She was able to hear his laughing fade away as she assumed he walked off. She couldn't believe he would just leave her out here like this. This had to be some kind of mind game! Yeah, that was it, he was messing with her. He would walk around for a bit before coming back to pop open the box and shine his shit eating grin at her. Lesson learned.
Her eyes adjusted to the dim lighting, and she realized that it was not pitch black in the box. Some light made it through the cracks where the walls met at the tops and the bottoms. Though it may not have been too dark to see, the temperature must have jumped by ten degrees since she was closed in as sweat began to break out all over her body. The stench of his piss filled the small space and in moments it grew hard to breathe. She shifted on the balls of her feet, dancing a bit this way and that in the puddle under her toes.
Here she was, chained, confined, and covered in piss, in a box in the middle of nowhere with a sadistic bastard who was playing mind games with her. Out of all of that, the worst thing was that it all made her incredibly horny. She felt that tingling in her sex start afresh at her surprise when he pissed all over her, and felt it ramp up when the side was closed in on her. Now, dangling a little from the chain attached to her collar, she felt her sex ache for attention. The tickling sensation of the mix of sweat and piss dripping from her to the puddle at her feet fueled her desire further. She tried to reach around with her bound hands, but there was no way to bring her fingers to her button. Her mind honed in on her building desire, thinking of the things he would do to her when he came to get her out of the box in a few moments, still convinced that he was playing with her mind. She settled into her predicament, letting the sweat drip from her as she breathed deep the mounting steam in the hot box.
That is, until she heard the sound of the Farmer's truck start. Her eyes went wide again and she tried to crane her neck around, straining to hear. The engine revved to life and there was the dull clunk of the transmission as it was forced into gear. Next came the grinding sound of the tires rolling over the dirt road.
“Oh my god!” she screamed in her mind, “He is actually leaving me here!”
Her heart rate shot up and in moments blood flow roared in her ears. She strained to hear as the truck turned, popped into reverse to back up a bit, then thudded into drive again. There was a roar as the engine opened up and the rear tires tore at the loose bits of dirt and rocks. The truck lurched forward on its journey back home, leaving her in the box.
As the sound of the truck faded, panic seized her. Again, she tugged at the restraints, pulling her neck side to side trying to get the ring to pull loose. It did not budge. Exhausted, she fell to her knees, instantly regretting it as the concrete bit into her skin. She rose back up to a squat, feeling her legs burn with effort. Her efforts caused her to sweat even more and the tickles of it dripping from her flesh was nearing maddening.
He had left her. He had actually put her in a box, in the middle of a field, in the middle of nowhere, pissed all over her, and left her to stew in the hot sun all day and the following night! She could barely wrap her mind around it. He just left her! The more she thought about it, the more her sex twitched with desire. Oh, not now, she thought to herself with a gagged sigh. However, she couldn't stop it. The more her predicament hit home, the worse it became. Despite sweating profusely, gagging at the rising fog of evaporating piss and sweat, teetering painfully on shuddering legs trying to avoid strangling herself on the chain attached to the ceiling, and cooking in this cruel oven, she had never before been so turned on.
Her eyes dilated in the darkness and she huffed rhythmically into her gag. Her hips rocked back and forth and her thighs pressed together. It wasn't enough to bring herself off, but it felt incredible. Sweat lubricated her flesh and the feel of her inner thighs sliding against each other drove her on. She started to moan with each undulation as she worked.
She had lost all track of time. Had it been a day or an hour since the Farmer had locked her into this box and driven off? Did it matter? She shook her head and lulled her eyes as she worked. It became harder and she felt a burning in her leg and lower back muscles that quickly built up to surpass the pleasure of her grinding. She groaned and fell to her knees. The collar pulled up on the back of her neck and she choked a little. The concrete bit into her skin, but she lacked the strength to rise back onto the balls of her burning feet. She tried to fold her feet under her, but the chain and collar held her too high to fall completely into a kneeling position. Also the shackles on her ankles dug into her bones painfully when she was fully kneeling. She had to keep her toes folded under, but oh did they protest.
The general pain in her body rose to a numbing ache and she soon found herself sobbing again into the gag. She had crossed the threshold from pain into misery, from rational thought to mindless suffering. And still her stupid clitoris throbbed and ached for attention. She dared not grind in her present position, but it did little to deter her rising desire. God, what a pain slut, she chided herself, gagging a little as she settled lower onto the concrete floor.
After a few more moaning sobs, she managed to drag herself back onto the balls of her feet, which screamed in protest once more. However, given the resounding ache in her knees, her feet would just have to suffer. She settled on the idea that she would not grind like that again, saving her legs for as long as possible. If he was serious that he would not return for her until the next morning, then she was in for a very long night. However, the thought of him leaving her out here all alone all day and all night, helpless and suffering, revved her engine again. Within minutes she found herself rocking back and forth.
“Stop it!” She screamed at herself, “what the fuck is wrong with you? Do you want to burn out your legs and hang yourself from this damn chain?”
But her body did not listen. At least, it did not obey. The thought of choking herself on the collar drove her hips a bit faster and she dipped her haunches a bit to feel the collar tug at her throat. She gagged and choked a bit, popping back up to her full crouch. Oh god, what is wrong with me? She was forced to adjust her self forward a bit to find a spot that provided an iota less pain than where she had been crouched before. And all the while she worked her hips.
The heat was quickly becoming unbearable and she was forced to stop moving to keep from her strain causing more heat in her muscles. She had fallen, quite harshly, to her knees twice more before the pain and ache forced her back on the balls of her feet. This cycle would like repeat itself many, many more times before he would return for her. Her legs and back screamed in agony at the strain of keeping her upright. Her shoulders burned from their constant position and she wasn't sure she could feel her fingertips any more. Her mouth felt like it had been stuffed with cotton, and the gag had long since been blasted dry by the moaning and huffing. She felt like she could barley stay awake, her eyes fluttering with each labored breath. She started choking herself more frequently on the collar and chain, startling herself with that rush of desperation to breath.
She fell to her knees again as her body gave out once more. She cried out in pain as the familiar bite of the concrete rang through her bones. Still, her sex thrilled at her suffering, but knowing that she was burning out and there was no way to bring herself to the edge she so desperately craved, she ignored the desire as best she could and concentrated on breathing. It sounded so raspy to her ears, so unfamiliar like the breathing belonged to someone else. The ache in her knees grew too great and she forced herself back onto the balls of her feet. She could feel that she didn't have much left in her at this point and if she fell to her knees again, she would not likely be getting back up.
She breathed and squatted on shuddering legs as the heat climbed. Sweat continued to drip from her quivering limbs, but less and less it seemed as time went on. The dryness of her mouth echoed the dryness on the other side of the wooden wall and each attempt to swallow only burned her throat. She wavered unsteadily, feeling the pull of the collar on her neck, and managed to catch her balance again.
A different sensation hit her middle then and she realized she had to piss. Bound as she was, there was really only one choice. She spread her legs as best she could and willed the flood to come. It took a moment, but eventually she felt the pressure ebb and she could hear and feel the splash as her own piss sprayed all over the concrete floor and her feet and legs. The smell of her own piss filled the air and she thought about how she was forced down to piss like a lowly chained bitch in the first place. It was incredibly hot and she felt that burning desire throb within. Like an itch you cannot reach, the constant pressure threatened to drive her mad. Now she no longer had the strength to do anything about it. Her desire just burned within her, driven more by the realization that she was about to fall for what was sure to be the last time.
Her quivering legs shuddered once more and she fell to her knees. It hurt so bad, a burrowing yet burning feeling grinding all the way to the bone. She sobbed and moaned pitifully, unable to do anything more than suffer. The collar was tight about her neck and her breathing grew even more raspy. She fought to keep her self upright, fought to concentrate on her breathing, and fought to ignore the radiating desire flaring from her core. Even the slight movements caused by her shallow gasping caused her to grind her knees into the concrete. Fresh tears fell from the corners of her eyes and she moaned deeply into her gag.
This went on for longer than she would ever care to think about, unable to prevent herself from weeping from the agony of it all. It was not the same as screaming from the pain or even the first tears she had shed in the beginning. This was a deep, resounding weeping like the mournful wailing of a ghost. A part of her wondered at that for a moment, this ghostly weeping coming from a lone box in the middle of a field in the middle of no where. What would someone think? Would anyone actually hear it?
She could hear her self quite well, in fact her weeping echoed in the tiny space, assaulting her ears. But she couldn't stop her self and the more suffering she experienced, the louder her wailing became. Even this was meant to torment her. Sadistic bastard, she thought with a twitch of her sex.
Eventually it dawned on her that the temperature, though still well above anything resembling comfortable, was starting to drop. Also that the dim light creeping in through the cracks in the box was beginning to dwindle. She must have made it through the day. She sobbed, her weeping beginning to subside a little. She still couldn't move, couldn't rise back to her squatting position and the pain in her knees was beginning to transcend unbearable. It had come to the point that she lacked the strength or ability to do more than just kneel. There were no more thoughts coming to her tortured mind, she just knelt numbly breathing in and out through a stretched neck.
The night's chill began to descend well after the sun had set and the earth released its trapped heat. Inside the box, however, the heat remained mostly contained as did the stench of piss and sweat. She, however, couldn't smell any of it anymore, she had become too accustomed to notice. The pool had long since evaporated beneath her feet. The sweat dried on her flesh and she was arguably comfortable against the settling chill.
The light was gone and she was cast into complete darkness. However, the aches of her body and her complete exhaustion dominated her mind. It was hours before she noticed the light had completely gone and the first chills of the night ran down her spine. She tried to whimper, but her voice had abandoned her so long before. She managed a single squeak. Her mind, roused a little by the fresh torment of the growing cold, turned to the Farmer. What was he doing at this moment? Was he cozy in his bed, wrapped up in blankets sleeping on a soft, warm mattress dreaming of her suffering? Her breathing picked up a bit and that desire that never actually went away reared it's unrelenting head again. She let loose a long suffering sigh as her mind wandered.
How much longer before he would come to retrieve her, as he put it? Would he wait till midday to pull her out at much the same time as he put her in? A full day in the box? Then a terrible thought hit her. Would he walk up, knock on the box to check to see if she was still alive and kicking, then say “Just checking,” and leave again? He was a big enough bastard to do so.
She shivered again. The pressure in her core returned and she felt herself start to piss again. The stream splashed over her feet and legs again, pooling beneath her. The fresh stench of her piss filled the space, somehow more pungent then before. She was dimly aware that it was because she was dehydrated,what with all the sweating and tears. Her tongue hadn't moved in what felt like a day, and she had long since stopped trying to swallow. Her throat felt like a long dry well and she could do little more than croak at this point. The constant pull of the collar made her head buzz and her sex throb.
The cold grew worse and she regretted all of the cursing she had done at the heat throughout the day. Goosebumps rose over her flesh and she shivered, which ground her bone numbed knees into the concrete. She began to weep again, feeling more tears force their way to her eyes. She couldn't move, not even to shift to take the pressure off. The worse she shivered, the worse the pain, and the harder she wept. Of course the sound she was making was more of a moaning, croaking noise, but it echoed in the tiny box all the same.
Eventually, a new sound came to her wail battered ears, the sound of an engine. She shook herself a little to ensure that she was not slipping into unconsciousness and winced at the movement. However, her ears distinctly registered the sound of the truck engine and the growl of the tires on the dirt road. He was coming for her. For a moment she was torn between hating him completely for leaving her out here in the first place and reducing her to this wailing, undulating mess of a beast, and her desire to have him pull her from this box and instantly spear her on his cock and ride her into unconsciousness.
She croaked, calling to him, begging him to free her from this hell. An almost smile tugged painfully at her dry lips and she winced again. The sound of the truck was growing closer and with each passing second, her hopes rose a bit more. She even managed to drag her self, choking on the collar quite a bit, back up on to her feet. She didn't think it was possible, and regretted it instantly, but she managed to teeter unsteadily upon the thrumming balls of her feet. The movement sent her sex into overdrive again and she couldn't prevent herself from humping the air futilely.
Then the sound of the truck changed suddenly and began to grow distant, as if he had turned off onto a cross road headed the other direction. She balked and his cruelty and collapsed back to her knees. The collar pulled tight around her neck and she gagged and wretched. She lacked the strength to pull her self back up and, instead, hung limply from the chain. She rasped as the blood rushed in her ears. Her eyes rolled back into her head as she gasped. She was able to get just enough air to keep from passing out but she wouldn't last much longer unless she could pull her self back up onto her knees. She felt the edges of her vision grow dark and that fresh panic gave her the extra push to sort of hop upwards. It hurt like hell and she groaned, but she was able to force herself back up on the bent toes while she knelt.
Her vision cleared, and she was able to get half breaths at least. There was still a roar in her ears though. She shook her head a bit, trying to clear the buzzing from her mind when she slowly became aware that the roaring in her ears was the sound of the truck returning. Again, she foolishly let her hopes rise, but, unlike before, this time she didn't move save for a slight turning of her head to ensure that it was what she was hearing.
The springs groaned out each and every bump as the truck pulled to a stop outside of the box. There was a moment while the engine came to a stop and she could hear the screech of the cab door open. There was the sound of the tail gate clank open with a metal scrape.
Still, she knelt perfectly still, forcing herself to sit up as straight as possible to get at least half a breath per time. She kept waiting to hear him start the truck again and drive off, sadistic bastard that he was. Instead, she could just make out the sound of boots in the dust getting closer. Then there was a loud thud on the side of the box that made her jump despite herself and she cringed at the movement, fighting to regain control of her breathing. There were some other, less traumatic thumps and bumps as the Farmer moved about outside.
Finally, she heard the sound of the wrench ratcheting loose the board on the side. All other contrary contemplations vanished as the bolts began to be removed. All she wanted to do was to be taken into his arms and carried away from this box. She began to croak, begging him to get her out. She heard him chuckle.
“Oh, someone's awake then?” he said, pulling the last of the bolts free. The board followed with it and blinding light poured into the box. She snapped her eyes shut but was unable to turn her head away.
“Whew, looks like someone had a rough night,” she heard him say with a slight nasal pinch to his voice. Suddenly his fingers were on her and she shuddered at the touch. Her hunger rose and she could not help but hump the air, humiliated and degraded. She croaked her pleas for release in every conceivable meaning of the word. He laughed at her and slipped his hand down between her legs. She ground down onto his fingers, letting herself dangle fully from the collar again. She wretched and gasped, but managed to make solid contact with his hand. She nearly exploded into orgasm on the spot. Her rasping gasps echoed in her ears as the buzzing grew in her mind. The air stopped coming and her mouth worked at the gag like a fish gaping uselessly.
He paid her no attention, working his fingers in to her crevice and pulling away long strings of moisture. She opened her eyes wide in panic as she felt her lungs burn for air. Everything shone so brightly through her dilated eyes, but she could just make out the cruel smile on his face and the glistening wetness on his fingers. Her body shuddered and the chain rattled between her legs. She gave it all she had left to give to shift upward and gain some air. Yet nothing made it passed the collar and she fell back, dangling fully from it as her legs collapsed. Her stomach rippled with one last gasp as her vision faded. Her eyes rolled back into her head and she twitched pathetically. Blackness consumed her.
She woke with a start as her body rocked with an orgasm. She was lying on her stomach on something hard and warm, her arms pinned behind her back. The restraints still biting her limbs and she could hear the sound of the chain between her feet scraping against something metal. Someone was sitting on the backs of her legs, his cock slipping between her pressed together thighs, popping into her aching cunt again and again. She was wet all over and her gag was drenched. It even felt like water had been forced up her nose. She sputtered, flopping ineffectually as another wave of pleasure built up in her sex. She tried to press against him, but she could do nothing more that shudder under his pounding.
She tried to beg, to plead for release, but she only managed to croak weakly. He wasn't listening anyway, pressing his hand on the back of her head, pinning her to the ground. Another orgasm erupted from her and she screamed into the sopping gag. Finally, it passed and she was able to gasp once more. She tried to open her eyes, but the light was too bright, so she kept them pressed firmly shut. She was dimly aware of the sound of the truck springs groaning and she decided she must have been lying in the back of the truck bed. The farmer grunted as he pounded into her again and again. She moaned and cried, drowning in the sensation and the whole experience of the last day.
She could feel him building to a climax, his grunting growing louder in her ears. He shifted his position a couple of times behind her, the truck springs groaning at his onslaught. She moaned in desperate pleasure, feeling another orgasm building. He seemed oblivious to her pleas and pressed on to his own shuddering release. They exploded together, both sets of hips quivering against the other. Milky wetness gushed out of her, pooling on the metal truck bed beneath her shuddering legs.
They remain attached for a long moment, a tender connection that filled her with a powerful after glow. She beamed beneath him, weakly rocking her hips against his, tightening her muscles around his girth. He chuckled and rose, pulling free from her. She missed him instantly inside her, a void that pressed on her mind. She moaned.
“Oh, greedy bitch,” he said, slapping her ass as he climbed down from the back of the truck. She risked peeking through slit eyelids to catch sight of him dousing himself with a jug of water. The cascade splashed down his body, spraying across the dust beneath him, evaporating in moments. She groaned at the sight of him, of his still straining cock glistening in the sun. She was still horny... always horny for him. He finished up with a wipe down with his towel, which he tossed into the back of the truck next to her.
She, however, was still a dripping mess covered in sweat and piss and secretions and who knew what else. Bliss, she thought. He moved back to the edge of the truck bed and reached a hand out to hold her ankle.
“Well, what did you think of that, girl? Quite the experience, eh?” he asked.
She nodded, equal parts grateful to be released and sad that her torment was finished. Her whole body ached and she knew she had pains she hadn't begun to realize, like a sound just above the range of hearing waiting to descend at a moment's notice. The whole experience was a traumatizing, degrading, exquisite hell and deep in the warm center of her sex lie the secret hope that this would not be the only time he forced her to experience it.
She smiled at the thought and rolled onto her back. Exhaustion overcame her like a thunder cloud rolling across the sun then and she lay limply. He smiled down at her and reached out to place a hand on her cuffed ankle. With a tug he dragged her to the edge of the truck bed. His smile was broad and a hint of cruelty in the curl of his lips. Her eyes widened despite the brightness of the sun, a result of the fear spreading through her mind. He had finished with her, used her and, as the saying goes, could put her away wet. But the look on his face said he wasn't quite finished yet. Her heart began to race and she huffed at her gag.
“Well,” he said, “since you did so well last time and obviously enjoyed it so much, let's get you boxed back up for another day, shall we?”
She fainted.


kaya said...

That is hot hot HOT!

Master-Reaper said...

Thank you, Kaya! Glad you liked it so much :D...