They hadn't been dating long. In fact, aside from drinks after work, this was their first real date. Coworkers, they had bonded over their shared love of backpacking. Damien was significantly more experienced than Nanette -- Etta, she preferred to be called -- so she was thrilled when he said he'd mapped out a three-day loop. They took off Friday and headed for the mountains.
The first leg of the trip had little elevation gains, and the scent of pine permeated their senses as they easily strolled. They talked about their annoying coworker Marcus, the overly ambitious Melinda, the underrated Jodie and the office gossip Katie. But mostly they spoke about themselves.
Etta considered whether it was possible to fall so deeply in love in so short a timeframe. Damien and she were aligned in their goals for the future, their values when it related to family, money, how they'd spend their vacations. The only rock they hadn't uncovered by the time they arrived at a suitable tent site was sex.
Etta was by no means a virgin, but she liked to be sure of things before proceeding, so the quantity of her partners had been limited.
Their two-man tent with individual bedding and sleeping bags were set up and Etta took care of replenishing their water at the stream about 400 feet away while Damien began the meal prep. The water filter worked slowly while Etta crouched on the bank enjoying the solitude amidst the gentle roar of the snowmelt cascading down the rocks. She dipped her hands into the frigid water looking forward to the warmth of the fire she could just begin to smell.
When Etta returned, there were two more double tents set up in the small clearing and four dusty men were busying themselves with hanging wool socks to dry and other through-hiker necessities.
Damien wrapped his arms around her and whispered, "I hope you don't mind. I couldn't exactly say no when we had this entire bounty to ourselves."
Etta beamed up at him, "I don't mind at all."
She introduced herself to the men, who all provided their trail names: Smokes, Strummer, Tramp and Lobe. Smokes's and Strummer's monikers became readily apparent as Smokes rolled a joint and offered it around. Etta passed, as did Damien. Strummer got out his guitar and serenaded them while they ate. Tramp's name had apparently come from a visit to a town along his trail where he met another hiker where he swore he had a Lady and the Tramp moment with a strand of spaghetti. According to his tentmate Strummer, the end result was a slap to the face for Tramp. Lobe had gotten his name when his earlobe snagged on a branch early on and had to be patched up leaving a barely visible scar.
Etta was less nervous climbing into her shared tent that night with their new transient friends there. She and Damien would still make out, but sex would be off the table.
The weather was warming quickly. Etta donned a light tee and a pair of men's sleep shorts she'd always found particularly comfortable before sliding into her mummy sleeping bag.
As expected, Damien kissed her until she was tingly all over and regretting their neighbors. A wave of intense exhaustion crashed over her, and they both went to sleep.
The first indication something was amiss was that Etta's feet were tangled in her sleeping bag. The downside to lower pack weight and more concentrated warmth for extremities meant less space for her legs to spread out. But they weren't just tangled, they were stuck. Together. She couldn't pull her knees up to her chest to unbind them either and when she opened her eyes to inspect, she found she was outside the tent with her legs bound to a tree. The full moon illuminated Damien sitting beside her.
When she looked at him, he bent over her and kissed her before she could say anything at all or even scream for help. His kiss was deep and loving. There were no sounds emanating from the other tents as he stroked her face and she calmed.
When he pulled away, he stared at her with love in his eyes. "You are so beautiful in the moonlight."
"Damien--" she started to protest her bound legs. If he was so caring, why was she tied by her legs to a tree? She must have been sleeping very soundly indeed for him to have dragged her out of the tent without her stirring.
"Shh, Nanette. I'll take care of everything tonight. You just enjoy everything I have planned for you. Give yourself to me and I'll make you satisfied beyond your wildest imagination."
"You have the wrong--" Etta tried to protest again, but her lips were again smothered. This time she tried to fight back and pulled her arms out of the tight encasement of her sleeping bag. She wasn't fast about it though, and Damien quickly grasped her wrists and without breaking the seal on her lips bound them with twine. He hadn't even needed to glance.
His mouth withdrew at the same time he stuffed a thick sock into her mouth.
"I'm certain I have the right girl, Nanette. Don't fight this. It's my gift to you."
Try as she might with her tongue, she couldn't dislodge the sock, and her squirming to get free only earned her her arms tied to a tree behind her head.
Damien petted her cheek and whispered into her ear. "I know you will enjoy this, but if you absolutely must stop for any reason your safeword is 'a fruit.' 'A fruit,' Nanette." He kissed her brow and then loudly said, "She's awake guys."
The terror she already felt intensified and Etta thought her wrists would surely show the evidence of friction against her skin as she tugged and yanked to get free.
The men circled her. Lobe spoke first. "And she has a safeword?"
Damien pulled the sock out of her mouth. Screaming would do her little help now as five sets of hungry eyes devoured her with their gazes.
"I don't want to do this. Please don't rape me. Damien is lying to you. I don't want this."
Damien laughed. "I told you she was a good actress, really puts up a good reluctance act." To her he said, "Go ahead, Nanette. They know your safeword. Lobe here just wants to make sure our stories line up. Tell him your safeword."
