Bounty Hunter

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  Minutes passed, too many to count. She lost track of time and then worried because he hadn’t returned.

  Her helplessness overwhelmed her mind. And thoughts of abandonment turned her pleasure into mortal fright. Her sudden panic made her fidget, as if she could find a way out of the ropes. What if Christopher didn’t return? What if he were suddenly stricken and no one knew that she was here? She would die in bondage, tied to this magnificent tree? Tears welled freely in her eyes, as the awful possibilities paraded through her scared mind.

  Then something changed, abruptly, unexpectedly. Her panic disappeared. The tree from where she hung, with its powerful roots lodged deep in the earth, began to beat inside her, as if she’d become one with it. She calmed, and let that influence soothe her. Her teary eyes closed, she breathed deep and almost believed she slept for several seconds, maybe longer in the comfort of her rough cocoon.

  The way she returned to consciousness was much like waking up.

  She smelled smoke.

  Cigar smoke, familiar and welcome.

  Opening her eyes, she spotted Christopher moving along the path toward her, puffing on his Cuban import, smirking. He did that so well—smirk.

  “Hum, my pet.” He ran his fingers along her side and her body immediately reacted. The sensation was almost too torturous to bear.

  “You want to come, don’t you?”

  She nodded.

  “And you were worried that I wouldn’t come back.”

  She nodded again.

  “You always worry. No faith in me at all.” He shook his head sadly. Too bad I’m in a particularly sadistic mood tonight. It wasn’t a very good day and I need to take my aggressions out on you, so you’ll have to bear with me for a while yet.”

  This was not uncommon. At least half of their sessions were punctuated by the hard pain. However, a good beating wasn’t easy to accomplish with Jillian’s body strung up in a way that made it difficult to strike the fleshier, more satisfying parts. Strutting around her, he noticed his dilemma, feeling a bit annoyed by what he saw. Just causing her nipples, labia and clit more hurt might be good for her, but it wasn’t active, or forceful enough for him.

  Time to take her down, at least in part.

  He worked fast now, since the hunger in his groin was beginning to overwhelm him. While jawing on his cigar, he quickly untied the ropes that cradled her head and neck, and those that held the spreader bar, her legs and her torso. Releasing her that much, she was back on her feet again, although a bit shaky, her thighs weak and her knees threatening to buckle.

  Jillian could hardly stand, but fought to withstand giving into the feeling, realizing the danger if her legs buckled and her entire weight hung on her strained shoulders and arms.

  Christopher might have given her some assistance, but since she looked reasonably steady on her trembling legs, he continued with his plan, using a bundle of switches he’d collected in the woods to flail her body. He came at her from all sides as she twisted inside her ropes. But she quickly found that there was no better place to be hit. Perhaps her back and ass, but she couldn’t predict where he’d strike. If she turned to avoid a strike there, her tender sides might be painfully cut. The effect of the clamps on her cunt and breasts only amplified her distress with every move. They tugged hard. She finally gave up her fight, letting him have her ass and shoulders without any attempt to avoid the strikes. She hardly resisted when he moved to flail her front side, her clamped breasts and grinding belly. Her body quickly streaked from the intensity of the blows; some slashed her skin enough to cut, but the desire in her body soared. She had to come. She needed to come. God, if she could only release the burden without her needing him to manipulate her clit, she would be happy. But since that was not possible, she waited until he was finished beating her.

  Knowing exactly what she was waiting for, he moved in close with a twisted grin passing over his lips. “This is what you want, isn’t it?” he said. His fingers lightly grazed across her pussy lips.

  “Humgh, uh uh.” She could only groan.

  She choked as his cigar smoke got inside her nostrils.

  “Oh, I’m sorry,” he said, mockingly as he took the burning cigar from his mouth. “Hard to breathe?”

  He then squashed the lit end against her left ass cheek.

  “Eeeeeeeeeeeiimmmmmmm.” She cried from behind the gag.

  He only smirked more meanly as her body jerked from the scorching burn.

  Untying her legs from the spreader bar signaled the end. Oh! Yes, this she could handle, and she could imagine the end… the final climax of his brutality. Seconds later, he jerked the pussy clamps from her labia and the pain careened through her body as he held her steady. She still hadn’t come.

  Then the nipple clamps were loosened and the roaring pain made her legs buckle.

  “Easy, girl,” he said, as kept her from falling to the ground. “Don’t give out on me now.”

  He saw her despair and the pained expression her face. Perhaps he worried that he’d taken her too far this time.

  But that wasn’t the case. When he removed the clit clamp, he did so gently and the sudden flood of blood to the place had the exact effect he wanted. A few flicks of his fingers on the re-energized skin and she would be cumming.

  Feeling his desire as urgently as she felt hers, Christopher set her arms free and pushed her toward the trunk of the big oak. While smashing her front side against the rough bark, he lifted her ass, pulled the ropes from her crotch and plunged himself into a pussy so steamy and wet that it came on his dick with the very first thrust. He forced her against the tree, rutting hard with powerful strokes. Minutes into the reckless screwing, he stopped and pulled the wooden shaft from her ass—too much to contend with and have what he wanted. Freed of that, she was wilder still, coming hard again and again, unaware that the way the tree abused her as badly as Christopher’s stinging birches. He came, too, grunting the way he always did, and done, the pair collapsed to the ground; Jillian too weakened to stand and Christopher feeling almost as depleted as she was.

  Every muscle in Jillian’s body ached for days. Her neck had been badly twisted and the birching left places on her skin streaked with scars that would take several weeks to fade. The initial impact of the session frightened her, as much for the pleasure she realized as the lingering pain—and the fear that they had finally gone as far as they could go before the damage would be too great to risk. Why had he waited so long this time? If only he’d come to her sooner, perhaps the ravaging would have been less ruthless. But the wait was too long, the build-up too great and the scene too close to negligent to relish without also hearing the warning whisper, cautioning her to be careful. For days after, she was afraid to be with him again. And her nagging fears would take a long time to subside.

  She loved it so and wanted more. But how was that possible when they’d gone this far and there was no more safe territory to explore?

  Chapter Three - Johnny Gold

  For several weeks following her session in the woods, Jillian was content with her body. Her intense need for being tightly bound seemed to subside. Whether she feared going further, or had simply had enough to keep her happy for a long while, it didn’t matter. She wasn’t obsessing on the feelings as she once did, or surreptitiously binding herself, or daydreaming awful sexual extremes. And thankfully, Christopher demanded little of her sexually. He hadn’t used her ‘on the fly’ since the incident, or given her away. Maybe their afternoon in the woods scared him too.

  A little over a month after that awesome day, Christopher finally broke the tenuous impasse—just as she was starting to get used to their new routine. He was agitated and very cross. Looking up from his morning paper at the breakfast table, he scowled at her.

  “Get over here,” he ordered.

  The unexpected order surprised her and she hesitated, finally asking, “Whatever for?”

  “Whatever for? Because I said so.”

  There was something
lethal in his voice, as though he was spitting daggers. Her bones shook ominously and she moved quickly.

  She stood to his left, while he placed a hand on her ass and squeezed hard. She winced, but stayed quiet, concluding that the stalemate between them had finally been broken. She expected him to rise from his chair and push her into the alcove where he’d take the pressure off his over-agitated body. But he wasn’t even that decent this time.

  Unconcerned with who might find them, he turned in his chair, pulled his fully erect organ from his pants and ordered: “Sit on it!”

  “What?”

  “You heard me.”

  “Here?”

  “Yes, here.”

  “But what if…”

  “It’s my house, Jillian. You and everyone else around here should remember that. I’ll do what I want with you, anywhere I choose.”

  She could feel her cheeks begin to burn hot. But her pussy was suddenly swimming in her juices. Apparently, his ignoring her did matter and now her betraying body was happily replying.

  “Sit on it!” he spit out with scorn dripping heavily from the clipped command. “With your asshole,” he then added.

  By that time, she was resigned to being fucked—but in her dry ass?

  “You’re going to have to grease me,” she said, as she raised her skirt.

  “Well, that’s a problem, isn’t it?” he said mockingly, since he rather liked the idea of reaming her dry.

  “Please, Christopher!” she pleaded.

  “Not to worry,” he said. “I’ll just butter you up a bit.”

  He dipped his fingers in the butter dish at his side, reached under her skirt and smeared the greasy stuff around and inside her anus.

  “That’s good enough,” he decided. He grabbed her by the waist and turned her around, then sat her bared bottom down on his lap. His spear hit its mark with little exploration. As if it were a heat-seeking missile, he quickly nestled his member deep. Thankfully, her body expanded readily, even though she found the act disgusting. When he began to pump her hard, she bore down on him with as much force as she could manage, hoping that he’d get off quick.

  “Play with your pussy,” he ordered her as his cruel desire swooned around her. He then reached around and grabbed for the breasts, tugging at her blouse so that he could have her naked skin. Once he found it, he viciously pinched her nipples and listened to her shriek. “Play with your pussy!” he demanded again.

  Oddly, her sexual arousal failed to engage. While the crudity of his manner had jump-started her sexual engines in seconds, it didn’t have any lasting effect after that first instantaneous reaction. Her body bristled with anger as she realized how much she really hated this awful scene. If only he’d tie her, bind her tight, abuse her the way she loved it best, she’d be too weak to object and her body would respond willingly. But not this time, this way.

  Despite her objections, Jillian knew that Christopher would only hammer her harder if she didn’t obey him; so complying became the lesser evil. Pulling her dress up over her thighs, she found her clit and began rubbing it, as if she might actually get off. Thankfully, he came just minutes later and she didn’t need to bother finishing. He didn’t care if she came. Once he was finished, he pushed her off his lap and handed her his napkin, which he made her use to wipe him clean.

  “I think you’d better use that tonic of yours to cleanse this,” she said.

  “You just do your job.”

  He was hardly less agitated than when he started. Something was wrong, she suspected, but of course, he wouldn’t be telling her what that was. He did, however, inform her of an important business later in the day.

  “I have a gentleman coming this afternoon. Make sure I’m not disturbed.”

  “Of course. I’ll tell the servants.”

  “Good.”

  He directly rose from his seat, zipped his fly and left the room.

  

  Jillian didn’t see Christopher’s visitor, but she heard him. She heard the arguments from the foyer as she was passing through. And for a several minutes, she even stood under the stairway, hidden, trying to get an idea of what the heated quarrel was about. To her dismay, the angry voices calmed enough so that she could hear only a murmur of sounds coming from the office. At least she knew why Christopher had been so agitated that morning. Obviously, his appointment wasn’t a pleasant one and he suspected that going in. Shrugging it off, she moved on to the downstairs den where she planned to exercise.

  A half hour later, Jillian returned to the main floor and was crossing through the foyer again, this time moving quickly to make sure that she wasn’t caught in the crossfire. The hair on the back of her neck stood on end—a premonition. Any second, she expected someone to burst through Christopher’s office door.

  Sure enough, just as she was starting up the staircase, Christopher flung the office doors wide open.

  “Jillian!” His biting voice stopped her cold.

  “Yes?” She turned.

  “Where have you been?”

  She moved off the stairs, trying to remain calm in the face of his accusing tone.

  “Exercising?” she said, being bit flippant. “What do you think?” She hadn’t planned to sound so sarcastic.

  She suddenly felt a stinging blow to her right cheek as the palm of Christopher’s hand connected with her face.

  “What the hell did you do that for?” she backed away, and up the stairs.

  He shook his finger at her. “I’ll deal with you later.”

  “Later about what?” She suddenly stared beyond him to the man standing at the office door.

  “You’re a stupid, little bitch girl, you know that?”

  “Leave her alone!” the stranger jumped in.

  Christopher whirled around. “This is my business, boy!”

  Bewildered, Jillian continued cautiously up the stairs while watching the two men face off. Nothing came of the brief showdown and Christopher turned back to her, leveling his next order as if it were a matter of life and death, “Get to your room, now.”

  He hadn’t called her ‘girl’ in years, and it brought back a memory of the past that she just as soon not recall. “But I thought you wanted something from me?” she retorted as sassily as she’d spoken before. Halfway up the stairs, she considered herself a safe distance away.

  “Yes, you’re supposed to be here when I need you, and you’re just gallivanting like the silly, witless tramp you are.”

  None of this made sense. But her cheeks burned hot hearing his scathing rebuke.

  “Well, I really think I will retire to my room and let you cool off,” she said coldly.

  “Jillian!” he called to her.

  She could feel his steely eyes boring into her back as she made her way to the top of the stairs. But she refused to answer him.

  Trying to forget the awful scene and her present anger, she put on clothes for working in the garden. She couldn’t stay in the house a moment longer. Certainly, the comfort of the serene outside, and the cool air to clear her head would put her mood back where it belonged—as if she knew what that was anymore.

  Ten minutes later, she could still hear heated voices as she opened her bedroom door. Not wanting to get in the middle of the battle again, she moved quickly through the servant’s quarters to the back stairs and down to the garden door. She stood in the back hallway outside the kitchen poised to leave, when she heard the sound of the office door opening. Her curiosity piqued, she turned toward the front of the house, surprised to see that Christopher’s guest was making his way toward her, apparently on his way out.

  Why not the front door? she wondered to herself.

  “Excuse me,” he said as he grabbed his jacket from the hall-tree and put it on.

  “Of course,” she replied, looking at him puzzled.

  He opened the door and was about to walk out, his retreat hasty, his emotions still on edge, when he suddenly, deliberately turned back.

  “Hey, you wan
t to come with me?”

  “Do what?”

  “Come with me?”

  Her heart leapt with a strange surge of excitement.

  “You don’t belong in this house any more than I do.”

  “You want me to go with you? I don’t understand.” She was tempted to smile at the rash invitation, but she had the feeling he was serious. Handsome guy, she thought as her eyes searched his face.

  “How about we talk outside,” she whispered, while giving him a gentle shove. Once outside, she added, “I don’t even know you. Why would you ask me to go with you?” She was as amused by the invitation as she was curious.

  “And I don’t know you either, but I can see that you’re caught in the man’s trap. I’m taking off for LA on my bike. I could use the company. Why not?”

  “You’re serious?”

  He had to think a minute. “Yeah, I am.”

  Jillian felt strange with this guy—he was definitely a ‘guy’, not a boy or a man. And she loved his look, like a sexy, restless wanderer—unruly hair, a ruddy face, broad shoulders. Something about him was familiar, like she’d seen him before. In her daydreams a hundred times, maybe. And he was really serious. Her inner dialogue battled back and forth as she actually considered the absurd invitation. She wasn’t a rash woman. She’d never done anything spontaneous in her entire life. Why was she even speaking to him now, let alone considering his stunning proposal?

  “Well, thanks for the offer, it’s just that…” she stopped because she couldn’t come up with a decent explanation for why she shouldn’t leave that sounded as if she believed it.

  “It’s just that you haven’t been given a chance to leave that man’s clutches. You don’t have to go, hon, but I’ll be happy to take you with me.”

  She liked his cocky smirk.

  “But I don’t even know you!”