In the Pines, in the pines, where the sun never shines...
They were driving down the interstate, listening to some Billie Holliday tunes. He pulled off to a roadside rest area, grinding to a halt on the gravel, and suggested she sit still.
"OK, now I'm going to tie a blindfold onto you, so you can't see where I'm taking you. Are you sure you're ready for this?" His voice seemed a bit nervous, but this only reassured her that he wasn't a kook, but rather trying to satisfy her needs and curiosity.
"Yes, go ahead. We've talked about this so much, that I pretty much feel that I'm totally committed to it at this point." In contrast, her voice was calm and collected. Anticipating.
He pulled a black nylon webbed blindfold out of his backpack full of goodies, wondering to himself what a state trooper might think if he spied a women riding along in a car blindfolded. A difficult thing to explain…."uh…occcifer….you see, this is something she wants to do…" "Uh-huh, son, step out of the car and assume the position"
He gently wrapped the blindfold around her head. She immediately became more aware of the sounds of the cars whizzing by. He started up the car again and accelerated back onto the highway. She was more sensitive to things other than visual stimuli. The sounds of the tires on the highway, the hum of the engine, of cars passing by. The acceleration as he changed lanes, sped up or slowed down. After what seemed like hours – or at least five or six Billie Holliday tunes, she heard the blinker and felt the slow deceleration of the car and the rise of what must be an exit ramp. The car came to a stop, and the turn indicator came on again and he executed what must've been a left turn, judging by the way her body responded to the car underneath her.
The next part of the ride must've lasted again another hour. Many turns in the road – up hill, down hill, a long uphill ride. There were several turns – left, right, again a right. The surface of the roads evidently must've been getting progressively worse, as more and more bumps became evident to her with her heightened sensation of touch, and perhaps anticipation. Eventually, he turned on onto what must've been a gravel road, judging by the sounds of the wheels, and then on dirt, with many potholes and a lot of slow bumping up and down. Finally, one last turn and the car halted. She could hear him put the gearshift into park, put on the emergency brake.
They hadn't said a word since he put on the blindfold. This only heightened the tension. She could hear the car door on his side open and shut. His footsteps were barely audible, and then her car door opened up. He nostrils instantly picked up the slightly acrid smell of pine and…perhaps even cedar. He commanded…."OK, give my your hand, and I'll help you stand up…" She nodded, and said "alright" and obliged him. She eased out of the car, feeling a bit stiff from the drive, bending her knees.
"Just give me a moment here." She heard the car doors open, him take out what must've been that backpack, and then close the door again, and the automatic lock mechanism click loudly.
"Now, hold onto my elbow and I'll walk you down a path here."
She felt herself drawn to his every word, almost robotically following his instructions. He was so gentle as to almost be solicitous, yet she knew that he was planning on a rapid change of his demeanor at some point. This prospect excited her no end.
She held onto his elbow as he led her down the path. Every so often he'd pause and give her directions, like "OK, you're going to have to step up here…careful…there you go". She could hear the pine needle crunch every so quietly under her footfalls, and felt a bit of the cool dampness of the shadow of the trees above, and the sound of the wind through the pines.
After what seemed like twenty minutes of meticulous hiking, he put down his pack and said, "OK, we can stop here. This is the place." He took off her blindfold and she surveyed the scene visually. It was a little sylvan glade, surrounded by pine trees. Wildflowers and grass were abundant in the opening – daisy like flowers bloomed around, and cicadas were chirping from some hidden locations. In the middle of the clearing was a large tree trunk, evidently recently felled by a windstorm or somesuch.
"This is it." He softly intoned. "Why don't you rest here for a moment, while I get things set up?" Rooting around in his backpack, he picked up a bottle of water and a little silver hip flask with unknown contents and handed it to her. She took them, gratefully, and sat down in the grass, a bit nervous, but anticipating. He walked over to the trunk with his pack, and started to rummage around. She opened the flask and got a whiff of heavy proof armagnac. Briefly sipping some, it burned her throat and nostrils, but there was an ever expanding feeling of warmth spreading through her body. She felt a bit dizzy and disoriented from the hike in, but the warmth put her more at ease.
Soft cumulus clouds slowly drifted by in the sky. Somewhere in the distance a crow or raven cawed. Her gazed returned to his preparations. He seemed to be emptying his backpack of various items – rope, stakes and axe (!). An axe? What on earth? Her heart started to pound. Should she run? After all that careful planning, did she really hook up with a psycho? But, where was she? All this planning had left her completely helpless, and the issue of control seemed now to be in doubt. Almost sensing this fear via some unknown mechanism, he turned to her and said "don't worry, these are only for pouding in the stakes" Breathing a sigh of relief, she took another sip of armagnac.
"Hun, are you ready for this?"
"eek….yes, sure. Let's do it."
She walked over to the setup. "OK, here we go" His voice was getting lower and gruffer, no longer suffused with tenderness, but somehow acquiring a more threatening demeanor. Into run-away adrenalin mode now.
He unbottoned her blouse – first slowly at the top and then ripping off the bottom buttons. He left her standing there in her bra and jeans, and took a large blanket off the ground and spread it over the log. "Come over here…" Suppressing an urge to run, knowing it was hopeless anyway, she slowly walked over. He took her by the hand and grabbed her behind the waist. Quickly his right hand went behing her back and unsnapped her bra, which he deftly removed from around her shoulders. Her aureoles were already scrunched and nipples erect. Was it the coolness or the excitation?
He led her by the hand to the log. "Now lie down with your stomach on the blanket". She lay down with her butt pointing into the air. He reached into his backpack and extraced a rolled up terrycloth towel. "now raise your butt". She complied and he put the towel roll underneath her, so that her bum was now raised high in the air.
He quickly hopped over the log and grabbed a rope. Deftly tying a wrap and a clinch knot around one wrist and then another, he extended the rope out, with a stake and the axe in hand, and pounded the stake in with a large metallic clanging. The rope was a nylon-satin combination, which showed the care to which he had prepared this scenario. This put her more at ease. Tar embedded manila hemp would have been a bad sign for sure.
Tying off a tautline hitch onto the stake, he let the one line go a bit slack. With a loud metallic clanging, he pounded in the other stake, and then put another taut line hitch, leaving the rope somewhat limp. He then pulled both lines somewhat taut, leaving her hanging over the trunk, with legs dangling. He came around behind her, now somewhat rough, and pushed right up against her butt, reached around and unceremoniously unbuttoend her jean button, unzipped her and roughly yanked down her jeans to her ankles, pulled off one shoe, then the other, then both socks, and finally with a good tug, pulled off the jeans, leaving her in her maroon satin undies. With all the tugging, the towel had come unrolled. He quickly rolled it up and lifted her up bodily and replaced it. He seemed to be getting more and more rough in his manner.
She then felt a tugging on one ankle, and looked back as he looped another rope around first one, and then the other ankle. The banging of the stakes happened again, and she could feel the tugging as he secured the ropes to the stakes.
He then went to each of the four stakes and tightened up the taut line hitches until her arms and legs were fully extended toward the stakes, almost extensions of the rope. There was a dynamic tension between her own body weight, the curve of the tree trunk and the tension in the ropes, so that she could barely move from this equilibrium position. The more she squirmed, the tight the tautline hitched put tension on the rope. Seeing this, he gave her just the tiniest bit of slack, and cautioned her, "you'd better not squirm too much or else you're going to find yourself in a real pickle…or perhaps a pickle will find itself in you…" and he let out a guffaw. His voice seemed to be acquiring a distinct southern drawl. An affectation perhaps, but it was a bizarre transformation.
He grabbed her by her hair and pulled her hair back, stuffing a sock into her mouth, and wrapping a large bandana around it, and tying it off to stifle her groans.
"OK, hun, take a good look around, 'cause I'm gonna hoodwink ya" She craned her neck to glance at the clouds and the pines.. She couldn't see him, but this time he put on an entire black sack-like hood over her head and tied it off loosely, letting her hair still straggle outside the hood. She couldn't see a thing in the sack, and realized that any passerby would see the most bizarre sight. But, of course there woudn't be any passers-by. They were completely isolated.
He laughed again. "you're one sight to see, I wished I'd brung my camera for this one…yowsuh!".
