Dearest Mistress Diana,
I'm so very glad you encouraged -- actually ordered -- me to come here. I'm learning so much, about the art of domination and about myself. Not the typical vacation self-knowledge sort of retreat, is it, yet enlightening all the same and in such a variety of ways. To continue where I left off . . .
I met Celeste as planned at 10 a.m. by the stables. After some confusion as to whether we wanted to ride human horses or actual horses, a young stable hand set us up and off we went.
We rode for about an hour along a dirt road and then on a trail a guide had taken me to my first day. At a break in the trees marked with a discreet red paint splash on a chunk of pinewood nailed to some bark, we turned left.
"Watch your head, hon," I warned her as we ducked below some low branches.
Soon we came to a stream and dismounted. I pulled a cloth sack out of my saddle bag, spread out a thin blanket, and some crackers and cheese and grapes. "Just a little snack, OK?"
Celeste beamed. "More than OK, what a lovely treat. Thank you."
"Do you drink wine?" I brought out a bottle of Cabernet. "I don't think it got too warm. And we haven't any glasses, so we'll just have to swig from the bottle like two old winos."
Celeste laughed.
We snacked and lolled in the shade. I asked her about her studies, and she told me about the field research she'd done on agricultural virus control in Ecuador. She speaks fluent Spanish, as it turns out.
"I'm jealous," I said. "I don't speak a word of Spanish, and it would really help me in my work. A little French and even less Chinese. I'm third-generation so it was a point of pride not to speak much Mandarin around the house when I was growing up. Now, of course, I regret that. What a lost opportunity."
Celeste had been lying on her back, her eyes closed, munching on some gouda. She sat up, took a swig of the wine, and asked me to say something to her in Chinese.
I considered for a moment. "Wo neng ai shang ni," I said and looked over at the creek, unable, for a moment, to look my submissive in the eye.
"What does that mean?"
I took a few good gulps of the wine. "I'm your mistress, Celeste, lest you forget. I don't have to tell you everything, now do I."
"No, Ma'am. I'm sorry. I thought we were in -- what was it you call it? -- free talk."
"We were. Not to worry. I'm just messing with you. The thing is, now we're not any longer. We're in session."
"Oh," she said, looking startled. "I didn't understand."
"You weren't meant to. What time is it?"
She pulled out her phone. "Almost 11:30, um, Ma'am."
"Perfect. Then I'll need you to strip to your underwear, Celeste."
"Now? Here? Aren't we in a public place?"
I kissed her on the forehead and then slapped her.
"Don't ever question me, and as I said, we're in session. You speak only when asked a question, remember? Just because we're not in a B2 dungeon doesn't mean the rules change. We're still on Ranch property -- trust me, I've looked into the matter carefully. ... Look me in the eyes as you undress."
She stood and, keeping her eyes fixed on mine, took off her running shoes, her socks, and her jeans, leaving just her panties and her T-shirt with a psychedelic flower graphic in muted colors.
'I'll help you with that," I said, pulling it up over her head and, for a moment, using it to pin her arms behind her. I pulled it the rest of the way off and kissed her cheeks and her neck, brushing her long red hair over her ear as I did so. Then I kissed her ear and nibbled at the lobe. She tried to reach her arms around me and I took her chin roughly in my hands and spit in her face.
"How dare you!" I screamed. "What are you doing?"
"I'm so sorry," she stammered and started to cry. "Your kisses felt so good. I wasn't thinking, Mistress. Please forgive me."
We heard the exhalations of horses and the crackle of branches, then saw Richard and Jenny. Celeste looked mortified, the universal naked in a public place nightmare suddenly a reality. She reflexively covered her breasts with one arm and the crotch of her undies with the other.
"Put your hands back at your sides," I ordered.
"But ..."
"But nothing. You're a slave. You don't have the luxury of modesty."
I turned to my co-conspirators, dressed in traditional southwest riding gear, down to the chaps over their jeans and the Stetson hats. It was as though they'd stepped out of a specialized clothing catalog.
"Thank you for joining us," I said to them, and a look of scared recognition came across Celeste's deeply flushed face.
"First things first," said Jenny in an almost motherly way. She brought over a bottle of sunscreen and applied it conscientiously all over Celeste's body. Jenny tugged Celeste's undies down and rubbed the cream into her bared flesh front and back there too. Celeste shook in embarrassment and confusion. Then Jenny pulled the undies back up, saying, "You never know if and when those might need to come off, dear."
She and Richard paced around the creek-side trees and murmured to each other. "I think it was this one," he said, then pulled a generous looping of rope out of his saddle bag and threw it over a high branch. "Bring her on over here," he said.
He bound her wrists, then stretched them with the rope high enough up over her head that she had to rise partially on her tiptoes on the red clay dirt.
Richard and Jenny walked over to the blanket. She picked up the wine bottle and took a swig. "Not much left, Richard. Why don't you bring that zinfandel over here. He did so, popped the cork, and they turned back to me and Celeste to watch the show.
I resumed kissing her where I'd left off, her neck. I kissed her smooth armpits, and squeezed and sucked on and nibbled at her tits. Then I knelt before her and kissed her belly, then stuck my tongue in her belly button and swirled it around, which aroused me considerably, never mind the faint artificial coconuty smell of the sunscreen. She squirmed and whimpered and I told her to shut up. I worked my way down to her thighs and shins and even down to her feet, as though I were the submissive.
"Turn around," I commanded. She did her best considering her tiptoe position, and my kisses slowly ascended the other side of her, lingering, particularly, on the backs of her thighs. I gathered her undies into her ass crack, revealing her lovely bottom, which still bore the faint red memories of her dungeon paddling the day before. Then I pulled the undies back to their natural state, slid my face up her back, kissing her stark shoulder blades and, pulling her hair aside, I snacked on the back of her neck too, feeling its warmth and, if I didn't imagine it, the little quakes of her pounding pulse.
"Good luck," I whispered. "Remember to breathe through it. I'll take pictures on your phone so that you'll have a souvenir from your New Mexico vacation."
I walked back to the blanket and sat with Jenny as Richard set to work. With a rodeo cowboy's panache, he wrapped the rope around the trunk of her body in outline above and below her breasts, visually setting off in a not unpleasant way her light pink aureolae and her now high-beam nipples. He cinched her arms behind her, folded together and drawn up high, high enough that it looked a tad painful and probably was, given her whimpers.
"Now I don't want to have to gag you, honey," Richard said with a quick punitive slap of her ass, "because I like to hear a slave count off when I whip her, so do hush." The word whip brought terror and tears to her eyes. I almost wanted to go and comfort her. Jenny could tell that was my impulse, and touched my hand in gentle restraint on the picnic blanket.
Richard withdrew from his saddle bag a small flogger and held it up for Celeste to examine carefully. She sniffled as the sight of it registered in her imagination.
"You afraid of this little old thing?" Richard asked dismissively. "Heck, girl, I've got a much bigger one in there. This is just to warm you up."
He started with gentle, experimental swats across her abdomen and thighs, noting, I now understood from my lessons with him and Jenny, how quickly blood flowed to the place of impact and if anything bruised or wounded unnaturally quickly. Those preliminary lashes firmed up into tougher ones and Celeste's scared breaths were visible up and down her crazy-skinny abdomen as she braced herself for the next. Richard would taunt her with fake-outs, striking for real when she was least expecting it.
He dropped the rope rigging so that she could come down off her tiptoes. But if this provided any physical or emotional relief to her, it was short lived as he instructed her to spread her legs, then brought the flogger's eager strips up first gently, then considerably less so, right into the crotch of her panties. She let out a scream, as much, I suspect, at the idea and the indignity of this as at any physical discomfort.
"Did I hurt you?" he asked casually.
"I'm OK, Master," she said through her now significant tears.
"Well good," he said. "Hey, would you mind holding this in your mouth for a a few minutes?" Not waiting for an answer, he stuck the flogger handle between her teeth. "Now don't drop that, honey, it's expensive. Bite down tight whatever happens. Jenny, dear, would you mind coming over here and helping me out?"
The two of them expertly tied Celeste's ankles together, picked up her feet, let down the the rope from which she'd been suspended, and with little ceremony hoisted her upside down. Her arms were still tied tight behind her though. The blood rushed to her face, accentuating her long dangling scarlet hair like the drippings of an abstract painting. She let out a high grunt but could do no more without dropping the crop from her teeth, and she could well imagine the consequences that might result from that.
Richard and Jenny toyed with her, swaying her back and forth like a pendulum, joking about whether any of these tree limbs had broken in such a situation. "No, not yet," she said. "First time for everything, though," said Richard.
Celeste stared over at me and, as she was swung side to side like a tether ball, saw, I suppose, her mistress, upside down, blurry, munching on a cheese cracker and taking another swig of wine. She grunted and whinnied in helplessness. I wanted to go to her and put a stop to the madness I had unleashed and to comfort and protect her. I also wanted just to watch her squirm in terror. Then I myself squirmed as I decided, all too quickly, which course to take. I folded my hands together and enjoyed the grim, sweet spectacle. Who exactly had I become?
Jenny took the flogger from Celeste's teeth, worked on the abdomen and the thighs a while more, rotated her, and spent about 15 minutes on Celeste's back and the back of her legs. At my request, they left her ass alone and her underwear on. I remembered the girl tying herself to a chair in her panties, imagining being held captive, being tortured, then fingering her pussy-drenched cotton crotch in ecstasy. I wanted to bring that fantasy to vivid life.
**
