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    "Thank you, sir," the quivering young woman managed.

    Alain couldn't be sure, but she seemed more nervous than she was before. Normally punishment whacked the tension from a frightened submissive. But it was safe to assume that she was still in awe of what they were about: his obligation to punish her faults, her commitment to surrender, and his right to use her body for his personal pleasure. It was certainly a terrifying if not, arousing, situation she'd openly agreed to.

    "My duty and my pleasure," he replied to her 'thank you', resuming his typically curt manner. "While this was not exactly what I had in mind for your initiation, I think it serves us both well. And it should remind you, that your job is all part of the package with me. I expect you'll reform your ways in Records and do your work efficiently. I don't think you're a dumb woman."

    "I'm not, sir," she rushed in, as was typical.

    Meanwhile, he leaned back in his desk chair. "You went to college, hum?"

    "Yes, sir, four years."

    "What did you study?"

    "Art, poetry and literature."

    He looked a little stunned. "So why, in heavens name, are you working here?"

    "I needed the job, sir. I have to eat."

    She was perfectly serious. He smiled, amused.

    "Have you ever thought that you might be wasting your talents working in a police station?"

    "Of course, except that I don't know my talents. I love the arts, but I'm not very good at them."

    "I see. Is that your assessment or your instructors'?"

    "I'm not really sure, sir."

    "Well, it's time you were sure about something, Miss Shaw. Paint me a picture, write me a poem, a story something…anything."

    She gazed back puzzled. "You mean that?"

    "Yes. I mean that. There's got to be more to Meredith Shaw than a beautiful body, a sweet smile, and incoherent conversation."

    "Yes, sir. I'll see what I can do."

    "Don't see about it, just do it."

    "Yes, sir." She nervously fumbled with her skirt, having just realized that it was all cockeyed. "Now may I go, sir?"

    All of a sudden she was anxious to leave. He was amused again. She wasn't unlike most submissives when they'd had enough. And indeed, they'd both had enough for one night. "Yes, you may go."

S
CENE
T
EN

Her first night in months in the cool, clear air of the forest found her blindfolded, leashed with a rope attached to her collar, naked, barefoot and dragging her shackled limbs at a reckless pace behind her fast-moving master. Despite the frenetic swiftness of their trek, the exhilaration of this sudden turn of events attacked her senses so fiercely that her discomfort no longer mattered. She felt drunk, divinely drunk to be breathing the out-of-doors, smelling the fresh scent of pine and feeling the air of freedom cling to her awakening skin.

    She stumbled twice in the low brush and he promptly jerked her back upright, nearly gagging her as he did. She only laughed, at least until they reached a solitary oak in the middle of the pines and other hardwoods, where he ripped away the blindfold and she could view her surroundings at last. She stared up to view the oak. Tall. Straight. Majestic. Its stark branches etched the deep blue sky as she looked toward the light above, toward what would have been a sun-filled day if they were outside the forest. Now she could only peek at the blue above.

    "Rest that pretty butt against the tree trunk, doll," he ordered when they reached a small clearing in the overgrown forest floor. He knew what he was doing, knew perfectly well that he'd punished her ass severely prior to their outing, just so that when she rested her butt against the scratchy tree bark, she wouldn't get too comfortable. This was not about what was easy for her but about what turned him on.

    Several lengths of rope were used to bind her tightly to the tall oak. One above her breasts circled the tree fives times, making five neat rows of hemp that squashed her tits down and left her nipples protruding strangely. Another rope circled her waist five times and was as neatly arranged as the breast binding, then another bound her thighs, so the entire effect was to fix her in an upright pose that would barely allow her to move a muscle.

    When he was finished, he smiled, and kissed her lovingly on the mouth before going about his business.

    While she watched, her master gathered wood for a fire that he deposited in a pit ringed with stones. Soon the flames were leaping up three feet above the ground and giving off enough heat to warm the evening air. After emptying his backpack of its contents, her master began to roast hotdogs until they were sizzling hot and spitting grease into the fire, which caused it to flame up higher. When the hotdogs began to brown, he removed them from the whittled sticks and popped them into a neat row of buns.

    "Nothing like a picnic in the woods. What do you say, doll?" he said, while adding mustard, ketchup and onions.

    "You're making me very hungry, sir."

    "What? Hungry for food, or hungry for sex." He smiled jubilantly. "Be honest."

    "Both, sir," she spit out hopefully.

    He washed his three hotdogs down with a beer and burped when he was finished. Not a bite was offered to his bound slave. Instead of feeding her, he watched her longing expression almost beg him. He saw her sweat, too, beads of it running down her sides and thighs, glistening lustrously by firelight. Her breath seemed short and a little labored when he finally rose up from the hollow log and sauntered her way with a beer in one hand, and the last hotdog behind his back.

    "Hungry, huh?" he licked his lips. "They were damn good, doll. So was the beer." He took another gulp and poured some over her parched lips, which she greedily lapped, letting the alcohol warm her empty belly. He popped open another, this time pouring it down her throat. Didn't take long before she felt light-headed, and with her inebriation spreading, she struggled inside the ropes. "They're tight, aren't they?" he forced his fingers under the ones that bound her breasts and gave her body a painful tug.

    "Yes, sir, they are very tight," she gasped. Her mouth opened in hopes of something more. Anything…another beer, a bite of hotdog, a lingering kiss.

    "Here. This is what you want, isn't it? Take a bite." He presented her with a plain hotdog. "You'd better eat, or you'll just shrivel up."

    Oh, that bite was sweet! The flavor, the pungent aroma, the grease clinging to her lips and chin as it drizzled from her mouth. He fed her the entire hotdog in five quick bites, until her mouth was stuffed and she could barely get it down. Even so, she relished the tangy sweet flavor until there was nothing left but his greasy fingers to lick.

    He kissed her once again and she hungered for more, but instead of more, he stood back and lightly fingered her pussy.

    "Oh, god yes!" The erotic flames whooshed fast. She writhed as he teased her, grasping with an open mouth; then with little warning, she suddenly erupted on those invading fingers. Before she fully climaxed, her master was inside her cunt with his swelling organ practically pinning her to the tree. He humped her hard. Each… hard… thrust… banged her punished ass against the tree bark. Each forceful lunge hurt. Each caused her pussy to spasm harder. Each set off a round of erotic shockwaves, until she was too breathless, too exhausted for more. By then, he'd erupted inside her cunt, and after enjoying every delicious fucking thrust and fucking spasm, he withdrew to leave his cum dripping down her inner thighs.

    "Too bad you can't clean me up, darling." He backed away as his cocky smile broadened all across his face.

    Always, when he finished sex, his edgy mood was soothed for a time, just long enough to show Kat Bloom the other side of his complicated character.

    He sat back down and drank another beer, then and as the fire dwindled and the chill began to climb under her skin, he got up, released his captive from the tree and allowed her to piss in the bushes.

    "You ever spend a night in the woods, doll?"

    "No. Never." She sat on the forest floor with her eyes fixed on her moody master with a look of worry.

    "It can get really spooky. The wind. The unfettered air. The sounds of old leaves rustling in the breeze. A big moon. You know it's a full moon tonight? If you look overhead about 2 am, you'll see it." He looked up and gazed into the thick treetops. A sense of wild animation sweeping through his body almost made his excitement contagious. But then he stared down. "Of course by then, you'll probably be asleep."

    When he finished his beer, he dragged her by her shackles back toward the oak, and after attaching them to a thick log chain, he wound the chain around the tree and secured it with a large padlock.

    He dug his toe into the earth beside her. "You know, the ground might get pretty hard. You might want to make a bed to sleep on."

    "You really mean it? I'm going to spend the night here!"

    "Don't shriek, doll." He grabbed the neck ring on her collar and held on tightly. "There are worse fates. You might learn something about yourself while you're lying here all alone. You'll certainly learn something about me."

    Her eyes widened in horror, her heart paralyzed by fear.

    Once reality settled, a prickly bed of branches and pine boughs was built from what she could find within her reach. Her master tossed on a few additional pieces to pad her efforts, but there was precious little comfort when she finally laid down on the ground and he threw a woolen blanket over her body.

    Without saying a word, he started to walk away.

    "You can't do this! You can't leave me here?" she raised up and shouted.

    He turned back. "What? Me stay in these woods all night? No way. But you? You, my little slave, need to be taken down another peg." He sauntered back her way. "You get too uppity, too mouthy, this is what happens."

    "But I haven't—" she cried.

    "Yeah. Right. Just listen to you now. Talk about mouthy. A good slave accepts her fate no matter what it is."

    He emphasized his point by thrashing her thighs with a few thin branches he picked up from the ground. She struggled to pull away, which only made him furious.

    "Hey, damn you! Don't shrink away when I'm beating you. Unless you want me to tie you over that dead tree trunk and really let you have it, you turn that pretty ass toward me so I can blister it proper. You got that? Turn it now. Right now!"

    Terrified and trembling, she righted herself, quickly raising her already wounded bottom for another fierce attack.

    The branches came down hard cutting into her tender skin, while she squelched her need to cry. Thankfully, it wasn't long before he was satisfied that she'd been subdued.

    "Sleep tight, doll. See ya when the sun shines again." He walked away, this time for good, with a playful smirk on his lips and his restless energy spilling out all around him. Whatever demons were rising up inside his psyche now seemed hardly satisfied.

    If she had to wait until the sun shone again before she saw her master, she would have had to wait a long while – it rained the next three days. Instead, he came for her in the early morning, the woolen blanket was soaked and so was she. Shivering cold, she was led through the woods again, still leashed, her shackles still clanging, her eyes once again blindfolded so she couldn't see where he was taking her. She knew she was back in the house, her home. She recognized its smell: the lingering tobacco, the scent of her master, the distinctive aroma of the wood, maybe even the smell of plaster, although she never quite figured out what gave her master's hideout its unique perfume.

    Back in her room with her blindfold off, he ordered her into a washtub he'd pulled from another room. She waited while he filled it with steaming water, and soon she began to warm again.

    He'd been right. Her long night in the lonely woods took her down another peg…at least for a time. She'd been cold, restless. She'd hardly slept. But she had seen the great white moon move across the sky above the trees. She calmed then, for reasons that were never clear to her. But she'd always believe that during that night, as she lay by herself on the hard ground, cuddling in amongst the scratchy branches and the woolen blanket, that her master was close by, watching, watching her.