I went back to my duffelbags. “I hope you won’t mind,
Patricia, but while you were being dragged off the street , I
broke into your house and found these”, I said as I pulled out a
pair of pumps with very high spiked heels. The shoes you were
wearing were nice, but a bit too practical for my plans”. I
pulled her to her feet and removed the handcuffs. “Put these
on”, I ordered. “I will like hell – AHHH”. A tap of the prod to
her ribs knocked her down and took her breath away. It had an
adjustable charge and I’d turned the power down a litte, since it
wouldn’t be much fun if she were too sore to move before we even
got started, but it hurt plenty. As she sat holding her ribs and
shooting lasers at me with her eyes, I tossed the shoes to her.
“Hey, I like the way this is going so far. Please keep that
stubborn streak for a while longer”. She put the shoes on.
“Stand up and turn around”. She stood up and turned around.
This was getting tame, but I was sure she’d pick her time and act
when she was ready. I wasn’t quite so sure that I would be ready
when she did, but that was what was had made this such an
exciting fantasy as I conceived it, the fact it was open-ended
and anything could happen. I put the heaviest duffelbag on her
then handcuffed her wrists behind her, shoved a nice big ball gag
in her mouth with considerable difficulty, which meant it was
just the right size, and replaced the short chain between her
padded ankle cuffs with a 14″ chain. “Just so you don’t get any
ideas about kicking me, slave”, I told her as I closed the
padlocks. “Let’s go for a walk”, I said, gesturing with the
cattle prod and bringing the tip of it a fraction of an inch from
her right nipple as I did, “that way”.
I wasn’t sure how far we’d gone. It was nearly noon and we’d
been walking since six. The pace was comfortable enough for me
but Pat had been having problems for the last few hours, and our
progress was frequently halted as she lost her footing and fell.
Waiting for her to make it back up had become irritating and I’d
been helping her up with strokes across the ass from my cane,
which had also proven to be a requirement to keep her moving. She
grunted a lot and if looks could kill I’d be dead, but looks don’t
hurt and a hard piece of wood lashing her bare buttocks did, so
she kept those high heels going forwards. It was very hot and I
had been sweating a lot, so at least her falls gave me a chance
to take a swig from the canteen. It wasn’t that I needed the
water or anything – hell, I could do this all day, really, I could –
but taking the canteen off her neck where it was normally carried
lightened her load so she could get up. This looked like a likely
spot, far from the road and through enough rocky and sandy
passages to be pretty certain no dirtbikes or offroad vehicles
would showup. It was so remote that a number of tall cacti were
there unmolested, and the surrounding miles so desolate that few
hikers or campers would ever come there. We wouldn’t be
interrupted here. “OK, slave, sit and rest”, I said. I then
proceeded to take all the gear off Patricia. A couple of hours
ago I’d figured out where on Patricia I could drape the second
duffelbag, along with most of what I’d been carrying, except for
the cane, cattleprod, and what fit on my belt, which included the
keys to her restaints.
