By Sorbus

Helplessly, I struggled, the blood pumping so loudly in my ears, my heart pounding so loudly in my chest that I didn’t hear the footsteps come to a halt. My world was one of sensory deprivation. I couldn’t see because of that stupidly thick leather blindfold. I couldn’t talk because that stupidly thick leather gag reduced my verbalizations to mmmpppphs and muffled grunts. I tried to guess what was going on, but I was too distracted by how tight the rope that bound my wrists had become. My panic driven brain flitted from thought to thought: How much time had really passed? Would I get free before those men came around the bend in the trail? Was I actually in peril, or would I just have to endure the most humiliating event of my life?

It was at that point that a voice, a masculine baritone that in any other situation would have sent shivers of pleasure down my spine, called out. “Hey, why don’t you two take this trail that goes off to the right. I’ll meet you at the next clearing. It’s only a couple hundred yards. I’ll keep going down this one. The sooner this fool’s errand is over, the sooner we can head back. It’s muggier than a go-go dancer’s thong out here!”

I froze in my struggle, my brain frantically trying to process those words, before I heard another voice respond. It was younger, pretty close to college aged. “Gross man. Why you gotta say things like that. Nobody wants to hear that!”

“Come on Rookie, you’ll get used to Stevens’ twisted sense of humor,” the third voice chimed in. It was older and had a smoker’s raspy-ness to it — the kind that comes with a pack-a-day for a decade or two. “Besides, he knows these woods better than anybody. He was born here and he’s gonna die here. Probably all alone in that cabin of his.”

It’s at this point that I twisted my shoulders, nearly dislocating one of them in the process. It occurred to me that maybe, just maybe, I might be able to stay low enough to hide. It wasn’t likely, and I cursed myself for wearing these wranglers with their distinctive blue hue. It was a minimal chance that the greens and browns of nature would be able to camouflage such an unnatural shade of the denim. I bit down on the gag, suppressing the pain I was feeling, and I felt my caged organ trying to shrink inside me. And this day had started with such potential. . .

I jumped then, grateful that the gag suppressed what would have been a truly girly squeal of surprise, when a pair of strong feeling hands grabbed my shoulders.

“Hold still boy,” the voice, belonging to “Stevens” whispered in my ear. “I’m going to remove this gag, but you will NOT scream or yell. Do you understand? Johnson is a stickler for paperwork and I’d much rather go fishing than have to deal with the reports that them finding you would cause. Nod if you understand.”

I stood there, frozen like a statue. What the what? What kind of Twilight Zone crap had I just fallen into?

“I said nod if you understand, boy,” Stevens’ repeated himself, his voice taking on an edge of irritation. When I still remained motionless, he clamped a hand over my caged crotch, giving it a little shake. He chuckled at my reflexive struggles. “I figured that would get your attention. Now, boy, I’m gonna need some answers. And I do NOT like having to repeat myself. Let alone three times. . . so nod if you understand.”

I began nodding quickly as the hand cupped over my cage gave another shake. My breathing was blasting through my nostrils as I felt those strong hands, those delightfully calloused hands, move up to the buckle of my gag and effortlessly loosen it. But then one of those hands clamped over the front of my face, holding the gag in place.

“Once again, boy, do NOT scream. No yelling or making a bunch of noise. You will quietly answer my questions so I can get you out of this mess. I’m not going to hurt you. But I need to know the truth so I know what actions will be taken next.” His voice was as smooth as honey, as it breathed gently but irresistibly into my ear. I felt myself shudder, in a good way this time. I also felt my cage feel as if was getting tighter once more. . . And I heard him chuckle as he obviously noticed the cage begin to move, to bob up and down.

“Well, I have a feeling I already know the answers now. . . but I’ll ask the questions anyway. Once again, without shouting or yelling. . . Did somebody do this to you or did you do it to yourself?” Stevens slowly pulled out the gag, while his other hand cupped my jaw.

“My. . . myself,” I said, voice barely a whisper.

“So you thought you’d come out for a little solo playtime? Out here in the woods all by yourself?” Stevens’ voice once again was at my ear, making me shiver in pleasure once more.

“Yes, Sir,” I replied immediately.

“Good boy. I like the Sir part,” Stevens ran his fingers his fingers along my jaw for just a moment before he suddenly grabbed me under my armpits, hauling me all the way to my feet. I couldn’t stop the hiss from escaping between my lips. My shoulders burned and my ankle twinged when I automatically put pressure on it, trying to find my footing.

“Hurt yourself did you? Oh, ground squirrel hole. At least you’re wearing boots and not tennis shoes. Here, let me help you sit down. Then we’re gonna talk some more because I still need a few additional answers.” Stevens guided me, because I’m still blindfolded, to stand against the trunk of the Ponderosa where the opposite end of the rope remained tied. “Your knot work isn’t too bad. Former boy scout, I’m guessing.”

“Yeah. Uh, yes, Sir,” I said, rather hesitantly. I reached up to try and remove the blindfold, but I was still a little unsteady on my feet.

“Stop that boy,” he said, grabbing my arms.” Just be patient. Give me a moment to get you untied from the tree. Then we’re going to both sit down.”

My brain caught on his words ‘untied from the tree’ . . . does that mean he wasn’t going to untie me altogether? What kind of a man was my quote ‘rescuer’? Who exactly was standing there, unknotting the rope that bound my wrists from the tree. . . Why didn’t he untie my wrists first? Why hasn’t he removed the blindfold?

It’s at that moment that a squawking noise came from the walkie talkie that was obviously clipped to the man’s waist.

“Yo, Stevens! Where are you? Did you get lost or something? Do we need to come find you?” It was the voice of Johnson, sounding a little frustrated. “Rookie’s taking a piss, but I’d really like to finish all this up. What’s the hold up? Did you actually find that cougar or what?”

My eyes widened behind the blindfold. Cougar? What cougar?!

To be continued …