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Desert Sunset aka Katie's Ordeal
All stories on this web site are purely FICTIONAL. The people depicted within these stories only exist in someone's IMAGINATION. Any resemblence between anyone depicted in these stories and any real person, living or dead, is an incredible COINCIDENCE too bizarre to be believed. If you think that you or someone you know is depicted in one of these stories it's only because you're a twisted perverted little fucker who sees conspiracies and plots where none exist. You probably suspect that your own MOTHER had sex with ALIENS and COWS and stuff. Well, she didn't. It's all in your head. Now take your tranquilizers and RELAX.
Desert Sunset
(A.k.a. "Katie's Ordeal")
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The sun was sinking rapidly towards the low hills in the west,
but Steve was still nowhere in sight. Katie started feeling more
and more uneasy.
She was bound to a wooden post supporting the beaten-up shacks
of an old silver mine. The thin nylon cord cut ruthlessly into her
chest, belly and thighs, and held her bare back firmly against the
rough wood. On the other side of the post, her wrists and ankles
were securely shackled together. Her buxom young body was covered
with nothing more than a few small pieces of rags caught under the
cord, which were all that remained of her dress and underwear. The
rest of her panties and bra had become an over-sized gag stuffed in
her mouth, kept in place by a leather strap buckled behind her
neck.
On her breasts and nipples, a number of paper pins were driven
all the way into her tender flesh, leaving only their tiny heads to
twinkle in the sunshine against her fair skin. From her shoulders
down to her knees, dozens of fresh whip marks had widened into dark
bruises. Below the golden triangle of her neatly trimmed pubic
hair, her swollen clit screamed in pain between the tight jaws of
an alligator clamp. On the other end of the short chain attached to
the clamp, an exhausted rat dangled between her parted thighs.
Her heart pounded as she stretched her neck to keep her eyes
on the dirt road running along the hillside. What worried her was
not the possibility of someone else stumbling upon her in her
embarrassing agony. The old mine had been deserted for almost a
century, as was the whole area within a five-mile radius. Save for
a few lizards and jack-rabbits, not a single soul lived in this
God-forgotten corner of Clark County, Nevada. Nor did anybody have
any reason to pass through here. Once every month, perhaps, a
sheriff's deputy would cruise by on the dirt road. But even the
most imaginative cop would never think of climbing the steep hill
to check behind the ancient shacks. This guaranteed privacy was
exactly why Steve had chosen this spot for his little sadistic
games with Katie. They had played here numerous times over the past
two years, and not even once had they been bothered by intruders.
Katie was getting nervous today, however, because something
did not seem right: Steve had never left her alone in her penance
for so long. This was not the first time he had driven off during
their games to the nearest bar seven miles away. Sometimes he had
even driven back to Las Vegas to play a few hands of blackjack
while she suffered alone in the dead center of the desert. But he
had always returned to her within two hours, before she was
completely overcome by the pain. But today, he had been gone for
more than three hours, far beyond the threshold of her tolerance to
pain.
The sun seemed only inches above the hills now, and Katie
began to feel the first chill of the evening. It had been a very
hot day, and only a hour before she had been sweating heavily under
the fierce sun. But around this time of the year, the temperature
could drop as much as forty or fifty degrees after sunset,
especially when the desert wind swept through the arid valley after
dark. Bound naked to the post, she knew the night would be
extremely uncomfortable for her, to say the very least.
In a growing panic, Katie briefly struggled against the tight
rope that kept her captive, but failed to gain even an inch of
leeway. It was not for nothing that Steve nicknamed himself "the
rope master" among people in the bondage circle. Besides, Katie
remembered as she gave up, even if she could get the rope to loosen
up, the iron shackles would still be enough to keep her imprisoned
on the post.
Katie's sudden movement disturbed the rat suspended on her
clit. Immediately the rat resumed its own futile struggle, sending
shock waves of pain through her tortured body. Tears streaming down
her cheeks, Katie moaned miserably into the gag.
"He will be back soon," Katie tried desperately to assure
herself. "Maybe he's having problems with the car. Or maybe he had
too much to drink and had to pull off the road to wear it off. Or
maybe the traffic is tied up. But he'll be here before dark."
Unbeknown to Katie, Highway 95 was closed to all traffic
several miles away, due to a serious accident. At the scene of the
accident, rescue workers were busy removing Steve's lifeless body
from the wreck of his red Corvette, twisted and crushed under the
nose of an eighteen-wheeler.
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