Message-ID: <16538eli$9810150748@qz.little-neck.ny.us> X-Archived-At: From: "Le Vit" Subject: More Tales from the Valley Part 1 (bondage) Newsgroups: alt.sex.stories.moderated,alt.sex.stories Followup-To: alt.sex.stories.d Path: qz!not-for-mail Organization: The Committee To Thwart Spam Approved: X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded X-Story-Submission: X-Original-Message-ID: <01bdf7f9$cc109c80$c4e3b4d1@windowsu> Author Note: The following chapter contains some sadistic violence. I neither subscribe, nor endorse what happens here. It is only here to advance the plot. More Tales from the Valley Part 1 I lie in the dark, crying. I don't know how long I have been here. I have lost all track of time. I know it has been days, maybe more than a week. My keeper has no interest in telling me how long I have been here, or anything else for that matter. All I am to him is something to be used sexually. The growling in my stomach reminds me that it has been a long time since I had eaten anything. I hope he brings me food next time he comes. The ring gag I wear hasn't been removed since I got here. It was never meant to be worn for so long. The ring pushes against sores behind my teeth, and my jaws are numb from being held open. I pull, uselessly at my bonds. They too hadn't changed since I was brought here. My wrists, encased in leather cuffs, are locked together behind my back, my ankles also encased in leather, are held wide apart by the thick wooden pole between them. The aches caused by my limbs being held in these positions, have long since blended into the other pains I had to endure. My keeper, delighted in whipping me each time he came down here, and found my breasts and pussy to be especially pleasing targets. I shift slightly on the sand that covers the floor of my domain, forever trying to find that one comfortable position that would give me relief from my agonies. I knew it was impossible though. The pain in my side made sure of that. I feel very weak from lack of real food, lack of water, and the injuries inflicted upon me. Even unbound, I doubt I could escape or get very far even if I did. Now I have a very real understanding of what Melissa went through at the hands of Eric. My crying was as much for her as it was for me. God, I wish he would bring food this time. You may wonder if I had made a big mistake coming to live with Alan, to have wound up like this. But I have to tell you that Alan is innocent of the abuse I am now suffering. I have a different keeper now. I had been living with Alan for several weeks. Several very happy weeks. Alan had proved to be a very caring 'Master'. Not pushing me any faster than I could take it. Admittedly, I was a little disappointed that I didn't spend as much time in strict bondage as I would have liked, but my time with him wasn't spent in idleness either. He put me to work keeping his house clean, as well as taking over the care of his horse. The daily tasks he set me served a duel purpose, he told me. First, it kept things clean and tidy, something he admitted he wasn't good at, and second, it provided me with daily exercise I would not have gotten if all I did was sit around being tied up. I had to concede his point. Hauling around the hay and feed for Nelson had put me in good shape. It was weight training and aerobic exercise in one. There were also the daily walks Alan took on his horse, with yours truly following along behind on foot as usual. Of course, during these outings I would be bound to the horse via a long rope or chain. I had also been pretty much nude since I got there, apart from one time when Alan gave me clothes on a trip into the city to see Melissa. Even then I didn't get the clothing until we got there, and it was taken away from me when we left. I would spend more time telling you of some of the fun things we had tried those first weeks, but I have to go on with my story. It was a cool day. Fall had come and it was getting a bit cold for me to spend much time outside naked, so more of my bondage time was spent in the house. I was just getting into enjoying a good hogtie that Alan had put me in, when he came back into the room after answering the phone. Alan began untying the ropes that held me. "Just got a call from the Sheriff's office." he told me. At once I got nervous. It had been so long since we had heard from anyone about Eric's death, that I had thought the matter closed. Evidently I was wrong. I would have voiced the thought, but at the time I was still gagged. "There's someone coming to talk to us. That deputy that was with the sheriff when he was here. You may remember him. Any way, he wants to see both of us, so for a while we'll have to act like a normal couple." Alan smiled, his evil smile. "Except for this of course." He had by now untied my legs,but my hands were still bound. He showed me what he was talking about. A butt plug. Only recently had he began introducing me to the uses a butt plug could be put to, and I was still uncertain as to whether I liked it or not. He already had it lubricated, and slowly pushed it home. The indescribable feeling of it going in always sent a shiver up my spine, and the pop as my sphincter closed over the narrow end, always made me jump. "I want you to keep that in you while the deputy is here. I'm not going to put a belt on you to help you hold it in, but I know you can do it, Beautiful!" I loved it when he called me that! He finished untying me, and removed my gag. Then he handed me some clothes. Long, but loose pants and a long sleeved shirt to hide the rope marks on my skin. We both knew that they wouldn't fade for a while. As I dressed, I asked Alan if he knew what the deputy wanted. "He just wanted to talk to us, he said. Maybe he is going to let us know how the case stands." Alan replied. I was understandably nervous about this. What was going to happen? We didn't have to wait long before the deputy showed up, briefcase in hand. Palmer, I think his name was. It was indeed the same one that had accompanied the sheriff in the past, and we received him in the living room. As I preceded the men into the room, I tried to walk normally, the rubber intruder in my ass never let me forget it was there. Sitting down was an action that always made me hold my breath, but I think I carried it off okay. I looked up at the deputy, and noticed he was watching me closely. I began to blush. Had he noticed the way I was walking? I know cops are trained observers, but still. Alan offered him a drink, but he refused. Instead he waited until we were all sitting before launching into his speech, for a speech it was. "I'm not going to waste any time here." he said, digging into his case. "I have here, in the forensic reports of the crime scene, all the proof I need to take you away Mr. Wells." I gasped, and Alan stiffened. Our visitor didn't give us time to react further. "I have here the report on the tire that blew, and how it was cut open by a high speed projectile. I have a report on the ground where the tire blew, and the recovery of a .22 caliber shell. This was enough to prompt me to look in your truck one afternoon while you were in town. Sure enough, through the window I saw a rifle that could have fired that shot. I'm sure that ballistics would prove that it fired the bullet that caused the death of Eric Maximer. "This is all I really need to bring you in and seize the weapon. From that, and your statement, I think I could make things very uncomfortable for you as far as the law is concerned. Who knows, I may even be able to get enough together to send you to trial." "You can't prove anything." Alan said slowly. "Maybe," said Palmer. "Maybe not. In any case its only part of what I found out about you. "You know its amazing the things people do when they think they are alone. I know this guy that likes to walk around his home dressed in nothing but lace garter belts, stockings, and a fancy lace push up bra. What he doesn't know is that from a certain position on the road that runs past his home, you can see into his normally well screened living room. An unscrupulous man could take advantage of someone like that. A man in his position should be more careful, oh yes, he is a pretty important man in this town. Still, what a man or a woman does in their own home should be their business, don't you think? "Take this couple I know. They live out of town, lots of private land around their home. It gives them a certain privacy that few of us can afford, and they don't waste it. One afternoon, while poking around a hill side looking for clues to a murder I'm investigating, I hear the sound of a horse and rider. I duck down, so I can see who it is without them seeing me, and am I surprised at what I see. Running just behind the horse is this naked woman. Now she is a looker, and I have to admit I took a moment to admire her curves before I notice that her mouth is gagged and her hands are tied. "Now I did think for a moment, that maybe the rider was up to no good, but the way the woman ran, without struggling to get away, made me stop and think. "I started to follow. Without them seeing me I eventually tracked them to their home, where the rider gets off his horse and the couple embraces. He goes into the house and the woman leads the horse into the barn, coming out a little while later, still bound and gagged, but evidently not in any distress what so ever. "I visit them fairly often after that, with my camera of course." Deputy Palmer reached into his briefcase once more and pulled out some large photos. They clearly showed Alan and myself playing our bondage games. In all those pictures I was nude, and some of them were so clear that even the more sexually explicit things we had tried were clearly visible. I turned away from the pictures. Unable to look at either them or the deputy any more. Alan was very stoic. He glanced down at the photos, as if only to confirm they existed. Otherwise he didn't take his eyes off Palmer. "What do you want?" Alan asked, his voice hard. Palmer smiled. His first since he came in the house. "About a week after Eric Maximer's death. Sheriff Bates handed me the case, telling me that if I found anything significant, I was to let him know about it. It's been so long that I know he probably thinks this is a dead end case, but if I were to give him these files, I know that would open his eyes. "You haven't seen my boss in action. If he believes you murdered Eric Maximer, he wont stop until he puts you away for good." "What do you want?" Alan repeated. Palmer reached down and picked up some of the photos. He paged through a few of them for a moment before continuing. "These pictures, of you and the lovely Maria. I wonder what the reaction around town would be if they suddenly started appearing everywhere. I know you work alone, Wells, but Miss Imus here has a job in the city. At least she did have. How would your co-workers react to seeing these pictures, Maria?" Alan stood up. He was as mad as I had ever seen him. His face was red, and his fists were clenched. Palmer wasn't moved. He looked up calmly into Alan's face. "Assaulting a police officer will get you nowhere. All bets are off at that point. The sheriff finds out about the files, and the photos become public knowledge. You loose your only chance to deal." I watched Alan stand there, for what seemed like ages, before he slowly sat back down. Palmer waited a minute more, before going on. "I told you I wasn't here to waste any time. But I did want to make sure that you knew what was at stake. Now that I think you do, I'll tell you what I want. I want Maria." Again I gasped. Alan said a firm NO. "Oh, not to keep. Just to borrow for a little while. You guys were having so much fun that I thought I might want to give it a try." "Out of the question. Pick something else." Alan said. "There is nothing else. Either I get Maria for a little while, or you go to jail for murder and her reputation is ruined." "No!" Alan yelled. "Yes." I whispered. This of course, stopped the conversation. "You can't. I won't allow it." Alan said to me. "We don't have a choice." I pleaded. I was almost crying, but I could see that going along with this horrendous plan was the only way out for us. I looked at it as punishment for lying in the first place. Alan, I saw, was confused. He was still angry, but now some of that anger was directed at me for giving in so quickly. "We need to talk about it for a while." Alan said to Palmer. "Sounds like she has already made her decision." Palmer replied. "We need time!" "Time is something you don't have! When I leave in a few minutes it will be either to take Maria home, or to go give the sheriff these files." Alan sat frozen. I could see the emotions struggling within him. I stood up, slowly and bent forward to kiss him on the cheek, before walking slowly to Palmer's side. "Be a good girl," Palmer said to me, "and go collect some of your toys. Meet me by my car." I slowly left the room and went upstairs. My mind was awash with second thoughts and regrets. I don't really remember what I gathered together, but I had a bag full of stuff with me when I stood next to Deputy Palmer's squad car. Palmer was waiting for me, standing by the car. Alan was on the porch. He made a move to grab me as I passed him, but I pushed past. I didn't want to use him as an excuse to do what I really wanted to do, which was run screaming into the trees. Palmer took the bag, and put in on the front seat, then he took out his police cuffs and turned me around so my back was to him. "Might as well start right now." He said as he snapped the cuffs on me. He opened the back door and helped me in as if I was a crook being arrested. As we drove away, I looked out the back window, but Alan was gone. I shift once more, the sharp pain on one side of my chest reminding me of the worst beating I ever had at my keeper's hands. It happened the first night I was here. As soon as we had arrived at Palmer's home, he had me strip of all my clothes. I had hardly discarded my pants when he began running his hands all over me. It seemed that after watching me through telephoto lenses for so long, now he had the chance to touch me he wasn't going to waste it. I closed my eyes, and endured his touch, trying to find some pleasure in it by imagining it was Alan who was running his hands all over me, but a tug at my rear swiftly deepened my shame. "What's this?" Palmer asked, smirking. Another tug, and the butt plug Alan had put in me was pulled quickly from me. Palmer started laughing. "You mean the whole time you were sitting there you had this stuck up your ass?" He asked me. I nodded, eyes down. He tossed the plug to one side and resumed his inspection of my body. Then he left me and started digging in the bag I had brought. He came up with the leather wrist and ankle cuffs and had me put them on. His amusement turned to anger though, when he found out that while everything came with little padlocks, there were no keys. Alan still had those. Palmer dragged me over to a straight backed chair and with a good deal of rope, tied me to it. He then popped a ball gag in my mouth and buckled it behind my head. When he was done, he stormed out of the house, telling me he was going to buy some locks. I struggled in my bonds. The ropes in many places were way too tight. I knew then that my keeper had no practice at this kind of thing what so ever. That scared me a lot. An amateur like him could injure me without knowing it. As it was I hoped he would be back before my hands grew too numb. He was back fairly soon, and before long he had traded in the ropes for the locking cuffs. At least now I was more comfortable. My hands were locked behind me, and my feet were cuffed together and he carried me over to his couch and laid me flat. Palmer started telling me how great it was I was there, and how much fun we would have, all the time pinching and caressing me like he couldn't believe I was real. He acted like a boy at Christmas, having gotten the present he had been bugging his parents for all year long. I wish I could have shared his enthusiasm, but I was terrified. Soon he settled down and began experimenting with some of the things in the bag. For a while he would tie me to things, and use his hands to sexually stimulate me. He was pretty successful at this, for my body, so conditioned to respond in a sexual manner to this kind of stimulus, didn't care who was actually providing it. My nipples hardened, my juices flowed. I felt betrayed by my own body as he easily coaxed orgasm after orgasm out of me. He thought he was hot shit, being able to make me respond to almost everything he tried. It wasn't long before he got naked himself and began to fuck me. By this time I was grateful for the blindfold he had put on me at some point. At least I didn't have to look at that leering face as he huffed and puffed over me. Hours later, I was eventually bound in the position that got me into trouble. He had found the ring gag and had put in on me, taking full advantage of it by forcing his prick in my mouth over and over again. Eventually he set us up with him sitting on the couch, and me kneeling between his legs. My head was tied with rope to his crotch, his penis inserted though the ring gag and laying on my tongue. There was no way I could pull back and get the disgusting thing out of my mouth. Instead I was told to keep my tongue moving, making him hard in my mouth and eventually bringing him off, before starting the process all over again. I don't know how much of his cum I had swallowed, but I knew by this time I had quite literally milked him dry. It was getting harder and harder to bring him to orgasm and I felt even he was getting bored with what we were doing. I was then very surprised when he began to pee. Suddenly my mouth and throat was filled with a hot burning fluid. I started choking, and tried to pull back, to get away from him. I struggled, my hands useless behind me. It seemed the stream would never stop, and I remember Palmer laughing at my futile attempts to escape. That's when my stomach rebelled. Already queasy from the diet of straight cum it had to ingest, it suddenly contracted and I vomited. I thought I was going to die. Both my mouth and nose were plugged up with vomit and piss. I began to struggle wildly, in a desperate attempt to find some air. I could hear Palmer yelling and swearing, calling me a cunt and a whore. He was hitting my back and head as he yelled. I don't know if I managed to pull free by myself, or if he let me go, but just when I thought I might pass out, his dick was pulled out of my mouth and I could breath. I lay gasping on the floor, the contents of my stomach spraying everywhere as I coughed up everything I had swallowed. All I was conscious of was that I could breath again. Then the whipping started. The stick he was using on me was thin and long, and it must have been something he had gotten himself, which meant he had already planned on whipping me at some point. The pain as each strike landed was almost enough to make me forget about breathing. I gasped and screamed as blow after blow rained down. At one point he stopped whipping me and started to kick me, causing the pain in my side that worried me so much now. Through it all he screamed at me and called me every name he could think off, until, his anger spent, he collapsed on the floor beside me. We lay there side by side for a few minutes, both breathing heavily. My skin felt hot from all the blows it had taken, and the pain in my side seemed to all but consume me. Palmer stood up and walked over to one corner of the room. I followed him with my eyes, terrified at what he might do next. He kicked aside a rug that lay on the hard wood floor, and reached down to pull on a trap door that had been hidden under it. I cried out when he started dragging me over to the open trap door, and almost stopped breathing altogether due to the pain when he shoved me through to drop to the ground below. I must have passed out, for the next thing I knew I was laying on my back, legs spread wide, with Palmer on top of me pumping away at my pussy. >From that moment on that's all I ever saw of him. I was never untied, never moved from this room. My cell was a 9x12 hole in the ground with a sand for the floor. The only light coming from the open trap door. Palmer would come down a ladder he stuck through the hole, and fuck me in the ass or mouth until he came. Then if I was lucky he would give me water, or mushed up table scraps to eat. If I was unlucky, which was most of the time, he would whip me instead, although he never kicked me again. he would then climb back out and shut the trap door, plunging the room into total darkness. At first, when alone, I would try to crawl around the room, in a vain effort to stay away from my own waste, but eventually I grew too weak to move and simply relieved myself where I lay. Palmer didn't seem to mind. He would fuck me anyway. After a while I began to think I would die there. I still think I may. The pain in my ribs makes me wonder if I have broken one. My breathing is labored and I feel fluid in my lungs. My head is killing me from lack of water, and my skin has been rubbed so raw by the sand and the whipping that every move is agony. As I lay here, I think about Alan, and how I wish he was here to help me. How I wish I had listened to him. I feel very alone. Noises from above. Footsteps. Palmer must be home again. My fear begins to rise. Just knowing he is up there is more than I could stand. I knew he would be down soon, and that terrified me. Would it be another beating? I really didn't care how he fucked me anymore. I was even way past even worrying if my birth control was still effective. All that mattered to me was whether there would be more pain. I found myself wishing that this time he would end it all. That he would end my suffering by whipping me to...That was the handle to the trapdoor being handled. I begin to whimper as the door is raised and light from the room above blinded me. I close my eyes, already screaming, pleading behind my gag. I taste blood as the hard metal of the ring grinds against the sensitive flesh behind my teeth, but that is pain I can ignore. I hear a thump as he lands behind me. He begins talking to me. I cry out louder, not hearing his words. My body begins shuddering, shaking, rebelling at his touch even though he hasn't touched me yet. He always fucked me before whipping me but I prepared myself for the whipping in any case. A hand at my should and I jump and scream louder. Oh please! Please! Two hands, on either side of my face and a voice commanding me to open my eyes. I close them tighter, but the voice doesn't let up. A part of me wonders what he would do if I disobey him, so I wrench my eyes open. It takes me a few moments to recognize the face in front of me. Alan! I begin to hear his words, the tone of his voice, soothing, and gentle. It calms me down, until I realize that Palmer must be close by somewhere and my fear rises again. I feel Alan reach behind my head, unbuckling the strap that holds the ring gag in me. His expression tries to remain natural as he pulls the blood soaked ring from my mouth, but I can see how upsetting it is for him. The muscles of my jaw, so long denied, add their pain to the agony I already suffered. Alan asks me questions I don't understand until I realize he is asking how badly I am hurt. I try to reply, but my mouth wont obey me. He calls out to someone. Lisa? No Melissa? I can't tell. Someone else drops through the hole and I feel a wet cloth being wiped on my face. More water is passed between my lips, but I choke on it. Instead the wet cloth is pushed into my mouth, and my jaw is comfortably held open by it. I feel many hands caressing my body. I shudder again, remembering how such caresses are usually followed with pain. Only this time there is no pain, other than when they press upon a particularly sensitive spot. My reaction when they push against my side makes them pause. Voices discuss my injuries, but they begin to fade into the distance, and I can hear them only faintly. The pain in my side is blossoming. I feel a pull under my armpits. I open my eyes to find myself hanging from the ceiling of my little room, what was Palmer doing to me now. Then I remembered that Alan is here somewhere. I look up. I am hanging from a rope that was pulling me toward the trap door. Alan wasn't there but a familiar face smiles down at me. It was Melissa. The rope hauls me closer, and she reaches out to guide me. The rope pulls again, and the pain in my side explodes, sending me into darkness. I wake, aware I am moving. Something is different. My hands, they lay at my sides instead of behind me. My legs, they lay together instead of wide apart. I open my eyes and look down. I am lying in the bed of a pick up, Melissa beside me, cradling my head. I am covered in a blanket, but still attached to my feet I can see the two broken halves of the wooden bar that had held my legs so far apart for so long. I lift my head, and Melissa tells me I will be okay. I smile and so does she, then she leans forward to kiss me. I fall asleep once more, beginning to believe that maybe what she said was true. "...dehydrated, but we have an I.V. putting fluids back into her, so that won't be a problem much longer. My main concern is for her cracked ribs. She was lucky that none of them actually broke and pierced her lung, but an infection has set in that we need to treat with antibiotics." Who was speaking? I couldn't see. I thought for a moment that I was blindfolded, but slowly realize I was just very sleepy. My body feels numb, I can hardly feel anything. Even my mind seems to work only in slow motion. It feels wonderful. "What about her whip marks, Doctor? How bad are they?" Another voice. This one seems familiar. It takes a moment for me to figure out it was Melissa, by then the doctor was speaking again. "The injuries are bad. I haven't seen anything like them before. She will have scaring over many areas of her body, but otherwise she will recover fully. Look, she's been beaten, terribly. I have to report this to the authorities. You have to tell them who did this." "You do what you have to do, Doctor. But first make sure that she's going to be okay." Scars? My evidently drugged mind mulls this over for a moment before it catches the second part of the doctor's statement. I begin to panic. Visions of Deputy Palmer coming in to take me away again flash through my mind. I struggled to open my eyes and call out. "She's stiring again Doctor." another voice said. My eyes half open, I catch a glimpse of Melissa standing at the foot of the bed, a tall bald man in a white coat standing with her. She is looking at me, and moves around to stand beside me when she sees me open my eyes. "Maria, Maria? can you hear me, Sweety?" she asks me softly. I open my mouth, and try to talk, but no sounds come out. "She shouldn't be disturbed. You'll have to go wait in the waiting room." I hear the doctor say. I was frantic, mouthing words I wished I could voice. What ever it was they had given me, it was strong. Melissa leaned close, her ear to my mouth. "Go on, Sweety. What are you trying to say." I manage a horse, almost silent whisper. "No police." Melissa nodded, before being gently pulled away by the nurse. The doctor leaned over me, a small flashlight shining in my eyes for a moment, then I saw the nurse inject something into my I.V. line, and everything went black. End of Part 1 -- +----------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `--------------+ | | | | Archive site +----------------------+--------------------+ Newsgroup FAQ | ----