A Trip to the Woods

It started simply enough. I had been hiking in the woods nearby my cabin retreat in the Adirondacks of New York. Unbeknownst to me I accidentally crossed onto someone else's private property--they were not the overly friendly type.

Suddenly, alarms went off and, seemingly out of nowhere, this army of Amazonian looking women appeared. The leader, who could best be described as Princess Diana, aka Wonder Woman, approached me rather unsubtly and threw me hard to the ground.

As the wind slowly came back into my lungs I felt hands all over me moving with the intent to render me unable to move or fight back. I felt my neck restrained, my hands locked behind my back, a set of shackles attached between my legs and another going from my hands to my legs forcing me to stand upright unbendingly.

I was forcibly marched back to their, um, wall, barracks I guess best describes it. Or, um, actually compound would be a more realistic description. This was something that seemed somewhere between a stereotypical dungeon and the "Chateau" from "The Story of O."

The one thing noticeably absent from this whole, weird scene was, well, actually me! There were no men visible aside from myself. Not a single one. What there was was actually the most perfect specimens of feminine beauty and female warriorship.

To this point not a one had spoken to me. I wasn't sure whether it was because they did not wish to speak to me, they couldn't speak to me or they were actually speaking in a language or manner I could not understand.

Then came the shock. A voice, decidedly female and extremely commanding, exploded inside my head.

First, I winced at the inaudible noise in my head.

Then, I looked perplexed. How could I hear a voice when noone spoke?

Somehow, I realized, they must have been communicating telepathically with me--and obviously the others as well. I knew this when I was grabbed and forced to quick step to the center of the compound where I was bound to a St. Andrew's cross and had all my clothes cut from my body.

Now, I am not entirely unaware of the BDSM scene, actually I like it somewhat so I knew immediately what a St. Andrew's cross was and I also knew how this particular one was made to rotate. What I did not know were the full intentions of these women.

My body quivered as a very sharp knife, which looked more like a short sword, cut each and every thread of clothes from my body. No man, no matter how brave, doesn't shake at least a little when a knife is knowingly near their manhood. I didn't shake much, but I did shake some.

The voices resounded in my head again explaining the rules for my internment as well as the reason for me being here.

Simply put the rule was I did as I was told, by whomever I was told without hesitation or argument or I would be punished severely and immediately. Even more simply put--I was property--an owned slut--and my previous life no longer existed.

My mind nearly drove me insane as suddenly I could hear every voice that was discussing me. I can't tell you how confusing it is to hear a cacophony of noise in your head, but silence through your ears.

I was blindfolded at some point though I don't recall specifically when it happened. My senses went into overload as they were reduced. It seems weird, I know, but the more the other senses were restricted, the more the other senses took up the slack for the lost sense.

What really freaked me out was when one of my captors plugged my ears. With my sense of sight and hearing lost the remaining three senses ramped up a great amount.

My smelling ability especially was strong. Strong enough to know that, even at a distance, a large number of these women were "in heat." Now, I've been a bouncer at strip clubs. It was a great job to have in college let me tell you. I could tell you what that smell was easily enough. I only hoped I could keep up for whatever these women had in mind for me.

I had no worries about keeping it up for them, but I'll tell you more about that later. My mind was suddenly preoccupied with my sense of touch overloading as the cane hit my back with incredible force. My back would have bent were I not tightly bound. Unfortunately, for me the cane was not alone it was joined by a flogger, made of a rough skin, as well.

Welts and stripes must have been popping up like weeds on my back but I would not allow myself to scream. Placing my mind elsewhere helped me to avoid crying out due to the pain.

At least for a while.

Ladies traded places for I know not how long. Whether it was a matter of hours, days, weeks or years before I screamed I could not tell you. All I knew was that I could feel the beatings and the changes in the weather, but nothing else.

My scream was both a release as well as a loss in my book, but somehow it felt wonderful, deserved, earned to me.

I can't express the relief I felt with a single, soul-deep, all the way from the bottom of my toes scream.

The funny thing was that, as of yet, I had not felt a single female touch but as I released my scream from my throat I released a load of male juice that seemed to not end. It was far and away the most powerful ejaculation I've ever had. Since I was bound facing the cross it was reflected down my body. I could feel my release warm and drying on me as my beating continued unabated.

I was a prisoner here, suddenly their slut, but whereas I was originally definitely not willing my mindset had decidedly changed to willing. I was cared for, got water and food when necessary, sleep when it was required and allowed and generally looked after like a pet.

Nothing was private or sacred. I was always watched even when I needed to use the facilities. My life became service. Service the women, service their guests, service their homes and their lives.

These women seemed to never eat. At least not that I could see. Only occasionally did a stranger arrive, although never did they leave or appear to leave. The women loved it too much to leave and the men, though rare, were trained to serve and kept as chattel.

Women would come up to see me, simply sit on whatever part they wished to use, then leave when done. I've been ridded front and rear, pissed on, shit on, been forced to eat their pussies and asses, beaten and that is just a portion of my first what I think are days with them.

My mind seemed to rebel at such treatment but the longer I am here the more my body needs and desires such treatment. I am dressed, or undressed, used as a submissive, slutty, sex toy. Why my mind rebels, but I can't fight these desires I do not know. I suspect that some drugs, subliminal training, hypnosis or such is involved. Whether it is Viagra, X, some date rape type of drug or something else I do know I have yet to lose my erection or appetite for sex and humiliation yet.

Today some of the ladies thought it would be fun to give me the "treatment." The "treatment" turned out to be shaving my body completely of hair from the face down, giving me a manicure (including nail extensions), a pedicure, full body waxing, perfumed bath and dressing me as a female--the sluttiest imaginable--and taking me out to a lesbian biker bar and telling them they could use me any way that they wanted to.

I was pushed to all fours and used by more women than I can count. It seems someone put out word to their friends, who then put it on the internet and I was used until I collapsed. Eventually I awoke as the bar mascot, I was branded and sold to them.

I am in that same lesbian biker bar to this very day. If you'd like to use me, just drop in. I'll be the branded, naked, kneeling slut eating each pussy as it cums through the door.