Message-ID: <6426eli$9802251517@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
From: sveltvox9@aol.com (SveltVox9)
Subject: Ladder (BDSM)(M/f)
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: <usenet-approval@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Moderator-Contact: Eli the Bearded <story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Story-Submission: <story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us>
X-Original-Message-Id: <19980225033100.WAA03936@ladder03.news.aol.com>


The following is an Adult Story....and is graphic in nature and concept.  If
you are under 18..etc etc etc..

-----------------------------------------------------------------------------
i believe there are those of us who thrive on those moments dreamt about for a
long period of time.  We  harness and feed a sensual power that is better
explored in a long, intense sexual engagement.   i wish to give those moments
of my life the time and focus that make them incredible.

With that thought, i offer the following story.




Ladder


Her lungs were bursting for the last mile.  Her chest heaved and her legs
shook from the combination of altitude change and exertion.  "How romantic is
this?" She sighed as she continued the steady pace to the cabin.  Her hair
had started the day braided and smooth; however the climb had made it loose
and unruly.  The cold wind had burned her cheeks, turning her face blush.  

He climbed behind her.  The speed did not hinder him from taking in the
majesty of the view, both the views of the trail and of her ahead of him.  He
was glad for the quiet and peace.  They were on the trail together, yet very
apart.  It was a bit of serenity he did not expect, being in such proximity
to a person that neither invited or seemed to need conversation.  The hiking
drained him of stress and concerns, the distance from his day to day concerns
and responsibilities growing with each step.

The trail started out low, and they had made good time all day.  There was a
northern blowing in, though, and it was going to take that steady pace all
the way.  Neither wanted to be caught on a dark trail, much less with the
snow possibility.  They had a few hours of daytime left to make the cabin.
After they arrived, there would be nothing but time, hours upon hours.  

It is said that one cannot "save" time.  There is no jar sitting on the shelf
with extra minutes to tuck into a day.  Yet, the two climbers were carrying
much more than staples and gear.  They carried a well-stocked supply of saved
intensity, saved moments of desire, and lust.  And they carried something
nameless that lay even a bit deeper than carnal craving.  It was as if each
second of desire, each minute of fantasy had been saved, treasured, and
stockpiled.  Collectively, they had hours of aching  to explore and satisfy
in an intense, drawn out, powerful situation.

It was a private cabin.  She had known of its existence for most of her life.
The cabin had not changed over the years, and could have been a historical
monument of sorts.  The cedar structure had surely marked historic escapades
in her life.    It sat on the edge of a cliff, with a huge meadow behind it
up the mountain.  A rocky creek ran along the edge of the grassy slope,
dropped off the cliff and turned into a waterfall that serenaded the cabin.
It was a simple log structure, pitched roof with a big porch running along
the creek side.  The inside was sparse.  A heavy log table and one bench, a
shelf near the fireplace with the old tin plates and cups miners brought into
the area a hundred years before.  Heavy cast iron skillets hung in the
fireplace, a rock structure that warmed the loft above.  A simple wood ladder
ran to the loft.  There was a window in each direction, heavy cloth shutting
out the light and the cold.  

They dropped their packs on the solid wooden porch about sundown.  It was the
first time they had seen the sun all day, and it hung there on the crest of
the mountain as if waiting on them to arrive.  Dry firewood had been stacked
by the last visitor, and they carried it in quickly, anxious for the warmth
of the fire.  The exertion of the climb was forgotten as the chores of
arrival took their attention.  Water was carried in, firewood stacked inside
the door, fire built, and supplies stowed.

He relaxed first.  Tending the fire and seeing to its success afforded him
the chance to stretch, breathe deep, and take stock of the situation.  He
watched her finding things at which to be busy.  There was not that much to
arrange, or unpack, yet she seemed to draw out the chore.  He sat on the
bench in front of the fire observing her nervous activity.  Her scent drifted
across the room as she slowly and methodically rubbed lotion into her dry
hands.  He waited quietly as she drifted in a moment of solitude. 

Walking over, he gently took off her jacket, laid it aside, and placed his
hands lightly on her neck.  He let his palms rub slowly around the shoulders
and watched the air catch in her throat.  His hands ran down her arms, taking
her wrists in his grasp and drawing them behind her.  He held them pinned
there with his right hand as his left stroked her chin, and pulled her face
towards his own.  The whisper in her ear was as rifle shot on the meadow.

"I'd like my cunt by the fire now."

She stood transfixed.  The thought of bolting was quickly replaced with the
knowledge she could not get her feet to move.  She considered a sudden change
of heart, a denial of fantasy, a burst of assertive independence.  Yet those
and other ideas were quickly drowned in her mind by the desire to go beyond
what she knew to be safe and allow herself to be manipulated by another.  The
synergy of the moment overwhelmed any thought of turning back.  She breathed
one long very deep breath and exhaled, extending  the moment as long as
possible.  She tried to focus on the pulse of her body and relax completely.
She could feel his intense, consuming gaze on her as she warped through these
thoughts and converged on the ability to say two words.

"yes, Sir."

He had stripped to his thermal shirt and jeans.  She tried to remember back
to the morning.  Her mind began to race.  Had he worn thermals?  When did he
remove his shirt?  She wondered why she always had these questions at the
moments she was not permitted to speak.  By the time she did have leave to
ask, she will have forgotten.  Her mind was tripping through the most
inconsequential of comments as her feet took her towards the front of the
fireplace.  He stopped her just under the ladder to the loft.  The firelight
illuminated her left side, and was close enough to warm her somewhat.  Then
he simply waited.

His patience would drive her insane, she decided.  She looked up to
contemplate his reasons for standing her here.  She had told him little about
the cabin, nothing about the ladder, and now she was very glad.  Had he known
ahead of time about the ladder, he would have come prepared.  She let a brief
smirk glimmer in her eyes as she thought of him regretting the packing of his
chopsticks.  She did contemplate that the ladder was a bit away from the
fire, and the night was very cold.  Once she was cold, she would shiver.
Shivering would create movement, something she knew he would not tolerate.
Gone were the smug smirks, replaced by the onset of fear.

He studied the emotions that were obviously rippling through her.  He saw the
smirk.  Just as suddenly, he felt the rattle in her body as her thoughts grew
dark and quiet.  Her eyes told him everything he needed to know at the
moment.  He knew whatever had caused the brief thought of merriment had
shifted to a sense of foreboding.  He pulled her right hand from behind her
back and placed it on a ladder rung just above her head.  

"My pet?"
"yes, Sir?"
"You and this ladder.  The two of you are going to be very close this
evening.  How do you feel about that?"

She moaned and let her body sag.  The words were lost somewhere in the middle
of not wanting to think about an answer to that question in particular, and
not wanting to think at all.  This voice he used told her that no matter how
great her imagination, his was just a little bit worse.  And his imagination
was in charge.  In a great sigh, her head titled slightly and her eyes closed
as her face registered acceptance of the moment.  There was only one word for
the feeling that sang through her nerves.

"Terrorized, Sir."
"Who is your owner, pet?"
"You, Sir."
"And do you trust your owner?"
"Absolutely, Sir."
"Very well then.  I'd like for you to remove your clothes now.  Except, pet,"
he paused and smirked, "Don't let go of the ladder."


He smiled,  amused at her attempt to hide the righteous indignation.  Her
knuckles turned white as she boiled with idea of being made to strip in such
a clumsy manner.  This was going to be awkward and frustrating, and though
she remained silent, her jaw continued to work with the desire to speak out
in defiance.  

Her fantasies of seductively peeling off layers of clothing were about to be
replaced with fumbling.  The right hand remained above her head, not high
enough to stretch her, not low enough to allow any freedom of movement.
Fuming at her plight, she remained unmoving.  Her left hand was poised at her
side, the elbow slightly bent. Biting her lip, she considered his demeanor.
Maybe if she stood here long enough, he would stride over and rip her clothes
off in some take charge attitude.  Perhaps she had misjudged her ability to
follow through on this weekend, this event, this scene...............this
submission.  Did he not know how uncomfortable she was?  Clothing provided
protection from that moment when imagination became reality.

Even reaching to remove her clothes would be the single hardest thing she
would do as a submissive.  They were a physical barrier, after all.  Her left
hand had never felt heavier.  She felt herself tightening.  Her chin thrust
forward, she stretched her neck, set her shoulders and straightened her back.
One squeeze of her thighs warmed her all over with the ache of her cunt.  She
looked up at him, finally, to find a stone reflection.  Damn him, she
thought.  Yes, she wants it.  Does she want it bad enough to go through the
moments, clumsily at best, to strip and then have the courage to survive what
awaits her afterwards?

She propped the first boot against the ladder.  She rarely did anything with
her left hand, and her fingers were cold, which made it harder to grasp the
laces.  She bit her lip to keep from uttering even a sound.  Finally the
laces came free and she loosened the boot, but didn't remove it.  The laces
of the left boot proved more difficult.  Her balance was off and she was cold
and frustrated.  She pulled that boot off when she was done, and then kicked
off the other one.  He had let her work out her frustrations on the laces,
and laughed when he saw her gather the boots in her left hand and contemplate
throwing the boots across the floor.  She looked up warily and set them down
together very gently.  The copper button of her jeans slid easily out of the
denim.  Still with only her left hand to accomplish the task, she pulled down
the left side and then pushed at the right until the jeans fell softly to the
floor.  She scooped them to her free hand by lifting them with a foot.  She
laid them carefully on top of her boots, aware of his judging look and
knowing instinctively her temper was of no concern to him, except as a reason
to be more harsh.

The night was cooler than she had thought, and the air up under her shirts
sent a rush of electrifying sensations to her breasts.  She reached around
behind her and flicked the hooks in her bra and then held the left sleeves of
flannel and thermal in her right hand as  she continued to hold onto the
ladder.  Her left arm disappeared, and then suddenly was peeling off all the
layers at once.  With what can only be described as utility of movement, she
slid the shirts over her head, and down her right arm.  She let go of the
ladder just long enough to pull the clothing completely free of her body.  

Satisfied that most of the undressing had gone smoother than she hoped, she
tossed her hair out of her eyes and grinned defiantly towards the fireplace.
She did not look at him directly, yet he was aware of the confident
expression.  Her nipples were hard and prominent in the flicker of the fire.
Her chest heaved with the cold chill of the room against her bare skin, and
she shivered.  He didn't feel it was that cold, yet her body trembled
visibly.  He gave her about 30 seconds before reminding her she was not yet
undressed.

She had gone this far.  She looked towards the windows at the dark sky.  This
was the reason for the hike.  It would be awkward to quit now. It would not
be any less awkward in ten minutes when she wore nothing.  There was so much
at stake, nothing to lose.  Her eyes dropped to the floor as she slid down
the thermals, and the t-backed thong.  Her polished toenails caught the light
as he let his gaze go slowly from the floor to her eyes.  She had
straightened and risen almost casually onto the balls of her feet, steadying
herself with the hold on the ladder.  The longer she stood there, the less
she trembled.  Had she known the stirring effect of her naked body before
him, would she have been less inclined to submit?  

He approached her slowly, moving his hands to direct her movement.  He led
her around to the front of the ladder, and pressed her body against it.  He
pinned her there between him and the ladder.  Her face pressed against one of
the thick, strong wooden rungs.  Leaning against the ladder was
uncomfortable, rough.  The edges were full of small splinters that cut into
her soft skin.  She felt invaded as the ladder and his body held her in a
tight grip.  As he touched her, she felt inventoried, cataloged for future
reference.    He moved her hands to rungs high above their heads.  The effect
stretched her torso, and narrowed her waist and pushed her breasts more
prominently through the ladder, displayed as targets.  She felt him admiring
the change in her shape.  As opposed to feeling comforted by the appraisal,
she continued to feel very unnerved.  He then reached around her to lightly
stroke her breasts.  He had a soft, whispering, steady commentary on the
ladder. He pointed out its finer qualities, its strength, its unique
splinters. And he demonstrated its perfect size for framing her breasts in
such a way that made them deliciously available for serious bondage.  She
began to listen to his voice and his words.  She focused on his actions.  He
was transporting her, and she let go.  She gave in to his control and
released her mind from worry or concern.  She concentrated on the feel of his
chest against her back.  She centered on the feel of his fingers as they
burned across her breasts.  Her back arched at the sense of his clothed yet
hard cock near her naked ass.  He pressed his body into hers and realized by
her moans that he had been very right in his judging the placement of a
particular rung.  

All the awkwardness, all the concern was consumed at that moment.  She knew
by his movements that there was no going back for either of them.  Her body
and its ache betrayed her, as did his body betray his desires.

"You will beg me to whip you here.  And do you know why?"
"Because i am a slave, Sir."
"Yes, because you are a slave.   What else are you?"
"i am a cunt, Sir and a slut and a whore, Sir."
"Do you think, slut, that those responses will cause me to decrease the
severity of my stroke..  ?
"No, Sir."
"And why are you going to endure this whipping, cunt?"
"Because it pleases you to whip me, Sir."
"Good girl.  Now.. Place your feet on the outside of the ladder.. Do you see
how this simple act has caused you to be displayed?  Do you feel the way your
lips have parted for me? They anticipate the impending penetration... Do you?
They're dripping..  Did you realize that my pet?    Your body betrays you..
Doesn't it?   Doesn't it my sweet pet?"   "Yes, Sir.  It Does."

He was sliding his belt out during the conversation and had wrapped it around
her waist and the ladder.  He pulled the buckle tight in the middle of her
back. 'Don't move' he whispered as he left her whimpering with her tits
rubbing against the rough wood.  Returning with some precut rope, he bound
her hands to the sides of the ladder and her ankles.  Her hands shifted from
the smooth worn wood to the rough beams.  The fine splinters of the cedar cut
into her wrists where he had bound her.  The tops of her feet and her shins
rubbed against the roughness.  Any squirming would cause chaffing.  Without
pause he removed the belt and struck her boldly across the back of one thigh.
She cried out, then whimpered.

"Scream if you like, bitch...there is no one to hear you."

He began to turn her backside a soft blush and then a bright red, the belt
landing randomly against her thighs and her ass.  She ceased trying to endure
and strained against the ropes that held her in position.  As the strikes
began to repeat some landings, she did indeed begin to scream, even cursing
at him.  Still he continued, until he had her breathless with pain.  

He stopped then, but left her there.  He tended the fire, added some wood.
As he listened to her breathing return, he spoke of the heat of the fire, and
described for her how the metal poker turned a shade of dark red.  He
wondered aloud how bright hot it would get were he to hold the rod at the tip
of the flame.  Would it become as hot and red as....say ...a brand?  Just the
notion brought a wail from her and he smiled at the power of his ideas.  

He placed his hand gently against the inside of her left thigh.. 
"My pet?  you seem to have some trouble remaining still."
"yes, Sir."
"There's one thing in particular I am thinking would hold you against that
ladder.  Do you know what I am thinking about, slut?"
"Only there are no chopsticks here, Sir."
"There aren't?  are you sure?"
"We never discussed this ladder, Sir, why would you have brought them?"
"Do you recall the night of photo albums, pet?"
"Yes, Sir"
"Then you'll remember the pictures from your last family excursion here.  And
how you told me all about this place of escape."

She was at once completely undone.  He had known all along.  She had thought
to escape his own particular brand of nightmare; she had led him directly to
it instead.  He walked behind her then, and retrieved a number of things from
his pack.  The cold lube sent shivers up her spine and she fought the
intrusion of the plug.  He was surprisingly merciful, yet insistent and
stopped only when it was seated deep in her ass.  His full weight leaned
against her, forcing her flat against the ladder.  His hands reached around
to tease her nipples until they were stiff and bounced against his fingers.
He snapped  two thin wooden rods around one and began twisting the small
rubber bands at the end.  Then he slid the bands down towards each other
until he was satisfied with the fit, and repeated the steps to her other
breast.  

As he stepped back, she relaxed slightly.  Then she cried out in pain.  The
chopsticks were perpendicular to the rungs of the ladder and the slightest
movement pulled dramatically at her tits.  He placed his hand in the middle
of her shoulder blades and he eased her forward...right back into the ladder.

"I said you'd become very friendly with this ladder, cunt.  You'll wish you
could fuck this ladder in a few minutes, just to stay that close.  Now, I
believe you have something to ask me."
"Sir?"

He doubled over his belt and popped it near enough to her that she felt the
rush of air before hearing the crack.  Her body cringed, and the weight of
the heavy metal plug caused her to throb.

"What do you want, slut?"
"Please don't make me ask, Sir, please don't make me choose this."
"I'm waiting."

She took a huge breath, and felt the sticks click against the rungs.  She
exhaled and pressed herself against the ladder in resignation.

"Please whip me, Sir.  Please..."  She felt humiliated...and tears began to
well up in her eyes..but she fought hard not to let him know that this had
affected her so deeply..  For if he did, she was sure that he would pursue it
just as a predator might seek out a soft spot in it's prey.   She was
fighting not to loose control completely.

With her tits firmly bound to the rungs, her ass full and throbbing, he began
to whip her again.  He took his time, letting the chain reaction of pain
entertain his fancy.  She would jump from the sting of the leather, only to
cry out at the searing pain of her nipple, and begin to grind against the
rung of the ladder as he drove her closer and closer to the edge.

He stopped to run his fingers up into her cunt, and found it hot and dripping
wet and quivering.  He moved his fingers back and forth, driving her to grind
against him even as he heard her scream in pain at the equating pull of her
nipples every time she moved against his hand.  Still she squirmed against
him.  Her screams had turned to a litany of pleas of every sort.  He removed
the plug and she heard the heavy steel hit the floor.

She felt him lean towards her and then the cutting pain of him taking her
ass.  He silenced her scream then by shoving his pussy wet fingers down into
her throat. Her body arched in a response that pulled on her tits even as his
cock reamed her ass over and over.  No matter which way she moved, there was
no escaping the pain and the torment.  Her body begin to stiffen and she let
herself fall against the ladder, conscious only of him moving steadily in and
out of her.  His fingers pushed against her tongue and his thrust ground her
clit against the rough wood of the hard round rung in front of her.  She
floated on the brink of explosion.

He cursed her for being still, for not fighting him any longer, and let his
rage feed his lustful ravaging.  He demanded her to move, to distract
herself.   He made his point perfectly clear by wrapping his hand in her
hair.  He twisted her head so that he could growl his command directly in her
ear. She was NOT allowed to cum.  He waited until he was certain he had drawn
her back from the edge, denied her completely and then sank into her again,
filling her ass like the whore she was.  

She sobbed softly as he untied her hands and ankles, and freed her tits from
their own private torture.  She had let out a cleansing scream when the
nipples were free and he slapped her hard across the face.  
"Enough"
"Yes, Sir."

She stood shivering, part from cold, part from fear, and part from that sense
of imbalance that results from dancing so long on the edge of an orgasm.  He
led her towards the open flame and forced her to her knees, making sure she
followed the prescribed position of separating her cheeks with the heels of
her feet.  Talking softly and gently, he brushed back the hair from her
forehead as the fire warmed her body.  She tried desperately to relax, but
the pain of the whipping and her breasts were sending thunderous signals
through her nerves.  Her breathing became so rapid and shallow that she
started to sway.

"Take a deep breath, pet.  Now another.  Stay with me now.  We have a long
way to go."

Her shoulders relaxed, as did her breathing.  The warmth of the fire was
turning her mellow despite what she had just endured.  He slipped down to
kneel behind her, and drew her into his arms.  They sat on a pile of sleeping
bags.  His legs wrapped around hers, and her hands held his thighs.  Her eyes
closed and she drifted in his arms.

His voice in her ear was a rip of instant fear.  And her eyes flew open in
shock.

"Don't move a muscle.  This is going to hurt."

He had withdrawn a small surgical needle from the fire and was blowing on it
softly as it cooled.  His other hand had a firm grip on her breast and he
fondled her nipple between his fingers.

"NOOOO" she screamed.
"It is what I wish, pet.  Now hush, sweetness, focus for me."

He smiled his teeth as her fingers dug into the sides of his legs, and he
pressed the sharp needle against the side of her tit.  Once he punctured the
skin, the needle eased through her nipple without resistance.  He cock became
swollen..  She screamed a silent, air filled cry.  He leaned forward and
kissed her deeply... savoring her pain to the fullest.  Then she began to cry
for him to please, please please...take it out.  

Placing his forefinger on her lips, he whispered.."When you've swallowed my
cock without a tear, bitch."

He stood above her then and brought her face to his cock with a violent twist
of his wrist.  She fought against him.  She tried to block her throat with
her tongue, and prevent his ability to get any farther down her throat.  He
left a large hand print across the side of her face where he corrected her
attempts.  When she screamed, he shoved down into her throat and began to
fuck it, roughly.  He moaned at the tightness and let himself savor the
unbelievable strength of her tongue as he forced himself beyond it.  

He came deep in her throat.  She felt the heat of his seed in her throat
before she tasted it.  He remained there until he squeezed the last drops on
the tip of her tongue.  He softly wiped the tears from her eyes and wished
her better luck next time.

He threaded thin plastic line through the eye of the needle.

"I'm going to remove the needle now.  Ready?" 

She looked at him with vacant eyes, past agreeing or disagreeing with
anything he wanted to do to her.  Her jaw felt locked, holding her mouth wide
open as if he were still there.  He took the look for a yes, and with some
tugging, drew the line through the newly pierced hole.  He tied the line in a
loose loop and gave it a tug.

"Just to make sure the knot holds."
"Yes, Sir," she gasped.

She felt the growing burn in her nipple where the thin plastic line had
followed the needle.  She looked down at the disfigurement.  There was no
clamp, so the blood flowed freely, and it seemed that even her breath caused
the line to move, shattering her hold on all conscious thought.  She was
floating a rushing sea of adrenaline.  Her nerves were totally bound to the
building explosion in her cunt.

He held his hand between her legs then, and began to play with her clit.

"Would you like to orgasm?"
"Yes, Sir, please"
"Then masturbate on my hand.  Move, squirm, slut.  Make yourself come for me,
whore."

She let her legs side open and felt his fingers rise into her cunt.  As her
lips molded around his fingers, she realized he held his hand to let her clit
rest on his thumb.  She began to ride his hand.  Soon she was thrashing  and
holding herself upright with her hands on his shoulders.  She held onto a
crest of expounding electricity.  Tears streamed down her face as she began
to realize she was again to that all or nothing brink of orgasm,  a mounting
explosion made so much more powerful through the earlier denial.  Her
breathing almost ceased.  Her body tightened, anticipating a burst of
rhythmic clenching in her cunt.  This moment was just her, a pure moment of
satisfaction.  She hung on the edge, and was about to let herself over.  

"Don't forget to ask for permission, pet."
"FUCK YOU" she screamed.  "FUCK YOU."

He jerked on the fishing line in response and felt her spasms begin on his
fingers, and the rush of cum from her already dripping cunt.  She lost all
sense of awareness as the orgasm racked her body.  The rhythm of her cunt
slowed, but grew in intensity.  She literally squeezed his fingers with the
depth of her climaxes.  Still she pushed against him, impaling herself on his
hand, her clit on his thumb.  He began to fuck back.  He pushed his hand
deeper into her and prolonged the orgasm, extending it beyond its original
life.  

Collapsing to the floor, she looked up in sincere apology.

"Sir?"
"Yes, pet?"
"I am very sorry I cursed at you.  I don't know where that came from."
"Perhaps you'll remember tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, Sir?"

He smiled an evil look, thinking of the morning.

"Tomorrow, when you are punished for it, pet."



-- 
+--------------' Story submission `-+-' Moderator contact `------------+
| story-submit@qz.little-neck.ny.us | story-admin@qz.little-neck.ny.us |