He told me it was just for carrying our backpacks. He said that, once we'd climbed up onto the mesa, most of the terrain we would be crossing would be open and flat enough that it would be easier to pull our gear than carry it.

He lied, oh how he lied.

When I saw him lift it out of the back of his SUV I thought it was some kind of folding bicycle. I could see two spoke wheels and a small bundle of light-weight threaded metal rods all strapped together but, because he hadn't assembled it yet, I could not tell exactly what it was. I don't think I would have believed it even if I had been warned.

If I'd known then what I know now, I would have run like a deer. Instead, I run like a trotter . . . but that's getting ahead of my story.

As it was, I believed Hank when he told me it was the latest new backpacking thing, a cargo cart, a little lightweight folding cart for carrying all our camping equipment in open country, then folded up for packing in tougher terrain.

I watched him strap the thing to the top of his already huge pack, thankful that I didn't have to carry it. I knew that the first ten miles of our planned route were mostly steep grades and narrow trails and the thought of carrying another ten pounds was not something to which I think I would have agreed. Heck, I was already carrying 70 pounds on my pack frame and another fifteen on my body harness.

We were planning to be gone a month, you see, so of course we had to pack in everything. This was not one of those handrail equipped National Park trails after all. There wouldn't be any restaurants, stores or even cabins where we were headed.

We were going into some of the last remaining old growth forest in New Mexico. Perched on top of a huge mesa about sixty miles from Four Corners and thus protected by its inaccessibility, it has thus far survived the fate of clear-cut logging. But old growth forest becomes more valuable every year and Hank said he was sure it would only be a matter of time before this place too gets the corporate logging treatment.

He should know. But again I'm getting ahead of myself.

Anyway, he told me about it and I just had to see it. It sounded like Heaven, unspoiled and just as primitive as it was before the white men came. Just the place, I thought, to get to know this wonderful new man I'd met at a Green Peace rally. This tall, good looking guy who seemed so committed to the Green cause.

We both took our vacations and headed East in his SUV, intending to spend 30 days all on our own.

Anyway, we left the SUV with a note under its wiper as to where we were intending to go and how long we were planning to be gone, then started up the ancient Indian trail he had found leading to the top of the mesa. It was a tough climb, the grade so steep in places that Hank had to use the rope to pull me, and my too heavy pack, up some of the pitches.

When we finally got to the top, Hank turned around and looked out across Northern New Mexico. Looking like a Conquistador surveying newly discovered lands, he said, "Say goodbye to civilization Honey, this is the last we will see of it for a month."

He then lifted off my pack and turned so I could unburden his back. "From here on it's pretty clear sailing. We can use the cart."

He unshipped the thing from his pack and started assembling the rods into what turned out to be a kind of sulky. He then looked up at me, grinned like a pixie and said, "Strip Honey, I can't wait to see you hitched up and ready to travel."

I just stood there, trying to see the joke, trying to believe I hadn't heard what I had heard.

From out of his pack he pulled a length of 1/4 inch hemp rope. He stood up and walked toward me, a new and frightening fire burning behind his eyes. Trapped against the Mesa drop-off I could not flee. And too, I didn't really comprehend my danger until it was too late.

Suddenly there was a noose on my wrist and very soon thereafter my hands and then elbows were bound together behind my back. "What are you doing Hank?" I asked, trying to twist away from his groping hands.

"I'm getting ready to teach you how to be a squaw." He said, ripping my blouse open with one button-popping jerk. "You did say your goodbye to civilization didn't you?"

"That doesn't mean you can rape me!" I squealed, feeling my bra clasp bend, then break, baring my breasts.

"It means exactly that, Honey. Out here, might makes right. I have the might, that means I have the right to do anything I damn well please. Its all so fucking simple, I would think you could understand, educated at Stanford as you were."

"It's still kidnapping and rape, you asshole! You'll go to prison for the rest of your life!" By this time he had me hobbled in my own hiking shorts and was goosing me with two fingers of one hand while gripping my left breast painfully with the other.

"You keep that thought." He said, "it will make life easier for you."

I tried to turn and knee him in the groin but fell, my big boxy hiking boots entangled in my shorts and panties. Before I could get up he'd noosed my ankles together, cut away the remains of my clothing, untied my hiking boots and yanked them and my socks off of my feet.

Standing over me he said. "In the meantime you'd better get used to the fact that you are my new squaw and I am going to teach you the reality of the primitive life you think is so perfect."

With that he lifted my bound feet and dragged me, face down and screaming in pain as my breasts were dragged in the dirt, over to lie me down over the cart's padded draw bar. He began fastening me to it with tight wraps of the rough rope lashing my tummy down to it. Once I was hitched to the cart I was left, lying on my face in the dirt, my breasts on fire with pain and tightly bound at wrists, elbows, waist and feet.

He loaded our camping gear onto the cart, untied my ankles and stood over me, a wicked looking whip in his hand. "Come on Honey, time to earn your rice cakes." He said, hitting my bottom lightly with his whip. "Head for that peak on the Northern horizon, the snow-capped one."

Shocked at how much that one small blow had hurt, I scrambled to my feet and began walking in the indicated direction. I could not believe what had happened to me. Hank, the nice guy from the Green Peace rally, was whipping me like a pack animal. I could not run, weighed down by 180 pounds of gear, I could not fight, I could not resist. He was completely in charge and there was nothing I could do to change any of it.

He was talking, as if walking behind a naked, helpless woman was something he did all the time. "When most people think about Indian women they think of the pretty Indian Princess, with her sexy Hollywood figure and winning smile. The truth is most Indian women were treated worse than the tribe's horses." Hank said, walking along behind me, the whip swinging in his hand.

"They did all the hard work of the tribe, they grew, gathered and cooked the food, cured the hides, built the shelters and had the children. The men tended their weapons and hunted . . . hard, skillful, dangerous work, but not in the same class as the day-to-day grind of women's work."

"The women didn't do this voluntarily, not by a long shot. They did these things because they would be punished if they did not. Its as simple as that, perform your assigned tasks, or else." The whip whistled this time, marking my bare butt with several red and shockingly painful welts.

"Ow!" I screamed, lunging forward, trying to force my already sore feet to go faster. "That hurts!"

"I should hope so, it was intended to teach." Hank said, running to catch up and grabbing my arm to stop me. "You need some expert breaking before we get to camp and I intend to do it."

"W-W-W-Why?" I asked, chin quivering, not wanting to waste the tears now running down my cheeks.

"Because it is the way men and women were made. Men rule, women serve."

"But that's so primitive!" I sobbed, "Surely mankind has progressed beyond that?"

"Not this man." He said, offering me a drink from my canteen. "If you stop and think about it, do you really believe in the popular fantasy of civilization? Do you really think the cities are safe? Hell there are more predators per square mile there than in a thousand square miles of this place."

"I found YOU there." I said, almost under my breath.

"My point exactly." He said, patting my welted rump to get me walking forward again. "But in the city, I was only one of a thousand predators. You were like a guppy in a school of guppies, under the illusion of safety, pretending to be unaware of us circling pike." He demonstrated the way a pike kills by making a biting move with his hand that took a grip on my already sore nipple.

"Masterless, you were just swimming in your school, thinking that the other fish protected you. I decided to take you in hand, for your own good, as it were."

"Know this; up here, I am your Lord and Master, you are my squaw, my beast of burden. You will have but one choice to make, you can do as you are told or you can suffer the consequences."

The rocky trail was rough on my tender feet but I did not let that slow me down too much. The welts on my bottom had done their teaching well. I did not want more.

At noon he stopped me again. Holding my canteen to my lips he let his other hand slide up to grip my breast. "These are nice. Just the right size for you." He whispered, his breath hot in my ear.

By this time I was sunburned pink and footsore. He chuckled as he watched his fingerprints on my breast fade from white back to pink. "Guess its time for the sun block." He said, moving to his pack. In a moment I was suffering the spreading of soothing cream all over my body, even in the places where the sun don't normally shine. Then, after smearing some dark smelly grease on my bruised and battered feet he gave me back my socks and boots. "That Bag Balm will fix your feet right up." He said, lowering my now booted foot back to the ground. "I wanted you to learn how much you need boots up here. It will be an easy way to keep you around camp while I do some meat hunting."

"You said you hated hunters!" I said, without thinking. "You said you were a strict vegetarian!"

"I lied." He said, pinching a nipple and using it to start me walking forward again.

Again we fell into a silent walking pace, always heading for that distant snow capped peak. The cart was indeed a useful thing in this kind of open forest land. It was far easier to pull the weight than carry it. But it was also my personal portable prison. Lashed to its draw bar I could do nothing save obey my captor.

Later, when I had to pee, I asked to be released so I could go over behind some bushes for privacy. But he only chuckled and said, "Not on your life Honey. You just go ahead and do whatever you need to do. An important part of your training is the breaking down of your taboos concerning natural bodily functions. I said nothing, holding it for another hour before succumbing to my need and squatting in red-faced shame.

Nightfall found us less than half way to the campsite he had told me about. Hank hobbled my feet in a pair of prison style ankle shanks and released me from the cart, patting my welted rump exactly like you would turn out a horse after a good day's work.

I staggered over to a rock and sat down, wincing as my welted rump reminded me if its injuries. I watched as he set up camp in the amazingly bright moonlight. The weather was dry as usual this time of year so he didn't bother with the tent. He got out his primus stove and got some water boiling, then laid out our sleeping bags zipped together double.

I had long dreamed of that moment but when it happened it didn't seem so romantic.

He came over, picked me up and carried me to the sleeping bags. Sitting me down, he turned to getting dinner ready. I noticed he was only heating one desiccated dinner and wondered if he was planning to starve me.

Instead, he reached into his pack and pulled out some hard strips of dried meat and began attacking it like a man with a huge appetite.

The idea of meat turns my stomach. Part of the reason I was still an unmarried virgin is that I always restricted my choice of dates to strict vegetarians.

I guess I had known from the edge of the mesa on that he had lied to me, but seeing him rip off a hunk of deer jerky made me see him not as a man, but as a primitive proto-man, barely past the pound the rocks together stage of development.

When my dehydrated vegetable stew was ready he laid aside his own dinner and fed me like you'd feed a dog, by setting the dish on the ground next to me and stepping back. "Bon Appetite!" He chuckled, biting off another chunk of jerky and sitting on a rock to watch.

It had been ten hours since I'd eaten. I had hiked 25 miles, much of it barefoot, most of it naked and hitched to a cart. I did what I had to do, I wiggled over and began trying to eat my dinner without getting too messy.

After I was done he gave me some water to drink but said it was too scarce to wash my face. There was a long moment where I could see how much he wanted to fuck me, then he grinned again and went to take a pee.

When he came to bed he was naked. In the moonlight I could see that he had the body of a triathlon contestant and was surprisingly well hung.

I rolled away in panic, thinking my time had come but he only zipped up and lay beside me, as if warming himself on my sunburned skin.

"Tomorrow we will begin climbing again. The campsite is beside a spring, the only surface water I have found on this entire mesa." He said, sounding drowsy.

I lay there beside him seething with pent up fear and anger. Here he was, in bed with a helpless naked woman and what did he do? Did he ravish me, relieving me of my over-ripe cherry? No he did not. Did he torture me with fiendish devices, driving me mad with pent up passion? Nope, wrong again. Did he cuddle me, caress me, untie me and tell me it was all just a joke? Sorry, strike three. What he did was begin to snore.

What I did was try not to think about the unrelenting pain in my shoulders and elbows.

It was early in the morning when he did it. The first I knew of his intention was having the sleeping bag unzipped and thrown off, exposing my naked body to the cold, pre-dawn mountain air. Without a word he lifted my hips to position my body in a kowtow then began sliding his big cock back and forth between my thighs, rubbing himself against my clit and the lips of my vulva but not yet penetrating them.

I squealed a protest and tried to go back out flat, needing time to get ready for my deflowering.

He was prepared for that with a length of rope, which he used to tie my knees close up under my chin.

His cock was like a hot poker, where it touched me seemed to burn. I screamed, knowing there was no-one to hear. I felt his thumbs opening me, greasing me with bag balm. I felt the heat of his organ pushing between my swollen, suddenly dripping labia. I screamed again, feeling him slipping in deeper, finding and beginning to stretch my maidenhead.

He suddenly stopped pushing, his cock not yet ripping my virgin membrane. "Tell me you aren't a virgin." He said, almost laughing.

"I can't." I whispered into the sleeping bag, embarrassed beyond blushing. "I mean I am one."

"And you are how old?"

"Twenty-nine next month."

"Well shit fire, Honey, this calls for a celebration." He said withdrawing his cock from my wet and eager pussy and reaching for his can of bag balm to grease my asshole instead.

An hour later we were packed up and on the march, with me again hitched to the cart. I was feeling like a newly stump broken draft horse. The most confusing thing was that I could not believe how much pleasure I had found during his not that painful assault on my asshole.

And while I had been well and truly fucked, I still hadn't gotten shed of my God-damn cherry!

"We will have an opening ceremony for you at the spring." Hank said, swinging along beside me, having decided he no longer needed any clothing save sun block and boots. "We need the water to do a proper cleansing ritual."

Having slathered both our bodies in SPF 50 sun block, we were not worried about sunburn. The air was dry and warm and its breezes felt wonderful against our naked bodies. I especially liked it when he used my tits to spread sun block all over his back.

The trail was indeed climbing but not so steep that I had any trouble hauling the cart. As we walked, Hank chewed his Jerky and I ate the chunks of peanut butter spread rice cake he put into my mouth. If it hadn't been for my elbows and shoulders I would have a happy camper.

"You do know how much my elbows hurt, don't you?" I asked during a water break.

"Yep." He said emptying the last drops from my canteen into my open mouth. "Planned it that way. Makes you more tractable."

The rest of the day we walked, until about an hour before sunset when we came to small brook running clear and sweet down from a grove of cottonwood trees on the hillside. "Follow the water to its source and you will have found our camp." He said, encouraging me to one last effort.

I was so thirsty by then that I wanted to throw myself down into that gravel stream-bed and try to drink it dry. But Hank had other ideas and he shoved me up the slope ahead of him.

When we pushed into the circle of trees I found myself in a private little chunk of heaven, just as he had described it. There was a natural sandy bottomed pool about fifty feet across surrounded by trees. The water came from a rock formation on the hillside above, tumbling and tinkling in a small waterfall that sounded wonderful to a thirsty girl like myself.

I knew that Hank was as thirsty as I but he made no move to go and fill our canteens.

"Please Hank, I need a drink of water!" I said, trying to sound as dry as I could manage.

"What will you give for a drink? He said, setting the brakes on the cart to keep me from bolting for the water. "Will you give me your parole? If I untie you and let you wander around free, will you try to run?"

I looked him right in the eye and lied through my teeth. "Where could I run?" How could I survive out here without clothes food or water?"

He laughed as he bent to hobble me again with his ankle shanks. "Right, I believe you, sure I do. But just in case you might be fibbing a little, I'm going to put these on you as well." He said, before again removing my boots. And letting me free of the cart so I could go get a drink.

Later, the release from the arm binding hurt worse than anything he had yet done to me. But, oh God, it was glorious, being able to move my arms for the first time in 30 hours. I looked down at my ankle shanks, realizing that he had made escape simply impossible. Restricted to a ten inch step, there was no way I was going to try to run away, or fight, or do anything to upset him for that matter.

"Good, now set up our camp." He ordered, pulling a net hammock from out of his pack and beginning to string it up between two cottonwood trees.

While I worked, he lay back in his hammock and grinned. "Nice weather for camping, isn't it?"

"You know, I left pretty good instructions on how to find this place." I said, working on getting the tent set up.

"You only thought you left instructions." He said, reaching into his bag and pulling out a familiar looking piece of paper. "I swapped notes on you when you weren't looking. The note I left told them to look for us in the canyons east of where the Land Rover is parked. You saw how hidden the trail we went up was. How long before someone bothers to look in the wrong direction? Besides, I have some friends who are coming up in a day or so to take it out of here, long before anyone will have time to get nosey."

"You know," I said, again not thinking, "the Land Rover should have warned me about you."

"Yes, I worried about that--- but I thought it could be your last chance to escape, kind of a test." He said, grinning like the Cheshire Cat. Then, letting his face fall, he continued, "You failed."

Then, sounding dead serious, he said, "Honey, from this moment forward you will speak only when questioned. Us Masters of the primeval forest need our time to think. Oh, and by the way, you will, when allowed, address me as Master. Do you understand?"

I stopped working on the tent and turned to look at him, confirming my belief that he meant everything he'd said. I bit back a retort and turned back to my work, my teeth clenched.

"Three lashes for what you are thinking. I have gone easy on you because I didn't want to carry that pack but now that we are here you don't have that protection."

I only continued to work, knowing that there are worse things than welts on the bottom.

"Good response, Honey, I knew you were smart." He said, getting to his feet to come and inspect my work. "Tonight is the full moon, we will go through the opening rituals by moonlight. By sunrise you will be a true woman."

"The first step is purification. We both must drive away the evil spirits so that your deflowering will be a blessing. While our ceremonies are quite different, we both start with a bath, come on." He said taking my elbow and steering me toward the swimming hole.

As we passed the cart he picked up the coil of rope that had held my tummy to the bar. "Its an old ritual, one that they used for captive maidens. It probably saved many a man his balls, I'm guessing." He said, tying a noose into the end of the rope.

Hobbled in chains, I tried to run. "Ten strokes of the whip for bolting." He said, easily catching my wrist and cinching the noose. "That makes thirteen, your unlucky number. Would you like to know what resisting earns?

I sobbed, and forced myself to stop fighting him, it was useless anyway. He was rough as he tied my arms up high in the middle of my back. He seemed intent on punishing me as he bound my arms to my torso, Japanese style, leaving a three foot leash hanging down from the final knot between my breasts. It was much more comfortable than the elbow tie and therefore, if I knew anything about Hank, probably something I was going to endure for a longer period of time.

He then tied my knees together and removed the shanks. Taking my new leash in his hand, he headed out into the center of the pond. I could only follow, waddling behind him like a duck on a string.

When we were in the deepest part the water was just over my head but not over his. I bobbed there, helpless to swim, breathing only when I could bounce up from the bottom and gulp a lungful of air. He gripped my hair and ducked me under and held me there for just long enough that I thought he intended to drown me. Then, lifting my gasping face from the water, he said, "Leave this girl, oh evil spirits, leave her so that she may know fulfillment as a woman." And again I was dunked and held under water.

When I surfaced the fifth time I had become his squaw. He had broken me completely. I had resolved do whatever he wanted me to do, to do whatever I needed to do in order to survive.

He thought of it as the evil spirit of women's liberation departing my body.

Whatever you call it, I took that gasp of air as a slave, fully broken and ready for my ceremonial deflowerisation.

By the time he had washed us both from scalp to soles the moon was up. Taking me into his arms he walked up out of the pond and carried me over to a large round bolder, then staked me down, stretching me three ways so that my legs were spread very wide and my sex was the highest part of my body.

He then went into the second ritual. He shaved my body completely, from the ropes down, using a wicked looking straight razor and then he painted my naked, shivering skin to look like a zebra, leaving only my breasts and pubes undecorated.

Then he danced for a while, seeming to be trying to induce a trance state in both oh us.

After a while he danced over to his gear and came back with his short whip. "I'm granting an addition of one stroke just because I don't like the unlucky number you earned." He intoned, standing over me so that the moonlight was shining like a halo around the glistening tip of his big, fully erect cock. "You will keep count by calling out the number after each stroke and thanking me. Any stroke you fail to count will not count, do you understand?"

Hanging head down, stretched over that rock, I managed to nod, not meeting his eyes.

The first stroke was across my freshly shaved loins and I surged up, straining at the ropes that held me down. After a moment I gathered my wits and said, "One, thank you Master." The next impact struck my breasts, literally knocking the wind from me while at the same moment making me want to howl with fear and pain. This time it was harder to say what I needed to say but the fear of the whip prevailed and I said, "Two, thank you Master." The other dozen strokes became a blur of pain, passion and in the end, while he was whipping me between the legs, orgasm.

After, he knelt and began giving me head, doing things to my red, sore and swollen pussy that I had always dreamed would happen in friendlier circumstances.

He played sex games with my body all night long, always keeping me helpless, excited and near orgasm.

In the morning, just before sunrise, he untied me from the rock and, leaving the upper body bondage in place, took me back into the now warm feeling water. There, in the deepest part of the pond, he held me against his chest and, needing support, I wrapped my legs around his waist. I was so exhausted from my all night ordeal that I didn't realize that my maidenhead's time had finally come. I felt his cock against my sore and swollen virgin opening and suddenly I was a virgin no longer. I screamed in shock, even though, compared to some of the things he'd done to me that night, the pain of my ripping hymen was almost nothing. Then, as he began to fuck me, slowly, sensuously and with great deliberation, the pain transformed into something else, something wonderful, something exciting, something that made me want more and more.

His timing was perfect. With the first sliver of sun above the horizon I began coming. I did not, could not, stop until he let me, when the sun was two hands high.

Afterwards he carried me up, limp and languorous to our tent where he put me to bed, bound only in my ankle shanks.

It was late afternoon when I awoke. Hank was just finishing a breakfast for the two of us. Buckwheat griddlecakes with maple syrup and re-hydrated strawberries for me, Spam and eggs for him.

As we sat, eating our respective breakfasts, he said, "Today is shot. No time left to do any serious training. Perhaps you would like a swim before we go back to bed?"

Afraid to speak, I looked at him questioningly, pointing to the steel chain connecting my ankles.

"Stainless steel. They won't rust." He said, reaching over to touch my face. "And while you were asleep I dug a latrine pit over under that willow tree. We wouldn't want you to get constipated. After all, its my second favorite hole."

That night I showed my Master my skill as a giver of head. He was delighted and surprised at how good I was at cock sucking. But this time, instead of making my date happy and then going to bed horny, I got well and truly fucked for my efforts. I found myself wondering why I had waited so long.

In the morning, he got out a tee shirt and some shorts, then got dressed for the first time since the rim. I wondered why, He certainly wasn't shy. The weather was hot enough that going naked was kind of nice.

During breakfast, he was very quiet, letting me cook him biscuits and jerky gravy while I had some Granola and Tang. After I'd washed the dishes and put everything away, the food hung high in a cache to keep it safe from animals, he came over with the same rope he'd used to bind my arms back at the edge of the mesa. "Turn around and give me your hands." He said, the lust-fire again smoldering behind his eyes. "Today you will learn what being a beast of burden is all about."

I had hoped that the elbow bind was something we were past but two minutes later I was suffering its painful strictures once again. Then, dragging me over to the cart, he tied me to the draw bar, released my ankles from the shanks, picked up his whip and sat down on the cart like it was a sulky and I was his trotter. "Git-up Honey, head on down stream for a while." He said. "There is something in those woods across the valley I want to show you."

The load that day was no heavier than the load I had hauled up from the edge of the mesa, but it seemed somehow harder to pull. I thought about the view he must have, sitting back there, I thought about the whip in his hand, I thought about overturning that stupid cart and trying to make a break for it.

I kept my thoughts to myself and started walking back down the slope, the trickle of spring water on my right.

He said nothing for about three minutes, then spoke, "Head over toward that stand of lodge pole pines." He said, making the whip swish through the air, close to but not as yet hitting my already bruised and welted bottom.

I did as I was told, trotting down the slope in the hopes that it might save me some pain.

"This entire mesa belongs to my company Honey. The Indians sold it to us lock stock and mineral rights." He said, slapping the whip into his palm and chuckling at my resulting increased speed. "Of course the government has to pretend to be protecting old growth, so we can't yet do everything we plan to do here. But that doesn't preclude a little 'thinning'." He chuckled at the thought, "In the name of wild fire prevention don't you know?"

I tried to slow down, afraid to run downhill, fixed as I was, but he chose that moment to "go to the whip," startling me into a full out run.

He laughed and shouted, "Git-up Honey, the day is young and you have miles to go before you sleep."

By this time I was running about as fast as I could but the cart was trying to go faster yet. Naked and barefoot, bound and helpless I was out of control and was sure we would both die in the coming crash. I kept looking back at him, perched on that stupid little cart, hoping to see him reaching for the brake handles. But he seemed totally unaware of my plight. He was just sitting there, bouncing along on that damned cart, his eye full of my business, his whip in his hand.

Then, just when I thought I could run no more, we reached the bottom of the slope and I was finally able to get us stopped. I no longer cared about the whip, I was blown, my knees felt like rubber, my heart was pounding in my ears.

Hank spoke softly to me, as if praising a good horse and trying to calm her. "Pretty fair wind-sprint there Honey." He said, coming to grip my breasts and grind his hips against my ass. "But I wanted to teach you about following loads on down slopes and I couldn't think of a better way than that.

I wanted to tell him that his little lesson nearly killed us both.

I wanted to do many things, most of them violent.

I did nothing, save regain my breath and begin pulling my Master over the rolling meadowland, heading to the stand of old growth pines on the far side of the little valley.

We were about a hundred feet from the woods when I noticed the stumps. Only the first few feet of the forest were virgin, beyond that there were hundreds of stumps. Scattered in huge, highly flammable piles was the waste. Someone had been harvesting every fourth tree. "Thinning?" I sputtered, regretting it as the whip cut into my rump, leaving new welts over the old, shutting me up and signaling a demand for more speed.

I was already straining, not yet fully recovered from my headlong rush down from the camp. I could not pull him faster. I could not bear the pain of his whip. I trotted on, entering the stand of pines on what appeared to be a two tracked road.

I had just begun to think what that meant when we came to the portable sawmill, set up in the woods, surrounded by a stack of rough cut balks ready for airlift off of the mesa.

I slowed to a stop, amazed at the chutzpah, the brazen balls of these people logging in protected forest. From behind trees four loggers stepped into sight. Suddenly I understood why my Master had gotten dressed today. He had known he was going to meet these guys.

I looked down at my own naked body, my ripe, female, helpless, welt marked body. I wondered if he intended to share me with these employees or just show me off.

My path blocked, I skidded to a stop. There was a long intense moment of silence before the guy with the longest beard spoke up, "Good catch this time Boss."

The fattest of the four stepped forward getting a grip on the drawbar. Grasping my undefended breast in his other hand he growled, "At last a squaw with some meat on her."

A third man, a native American by the look of him, took possession of my welt marked ass and asked, "Did she really need all this whipping?"

I looked into his deep black eyes, thinking I saw the light of human mercy there. I certainly had not seen it among the other three.

"Get back to work guys, break's over." Said my Master, climbing down from the cart to join the crowd around me. "We are already two days behind schedule. Don't forget that cash bonus for on-time production."

The four huge men obediently stepped away, each sporting a woodie, leaving only my Master's proprietary hand on my burning, welt striped rump. "If she displeases me I will bring her on over here. In the mean time get back to work."

The men all took a last look at me, each looking like a starving dog looking in at an unwatched thanksgiving turkey. I wondered how long since they had seen a woman out here. Then I wondered how long she lasted.

The fourth man then spoke, his voice pitched so low I could feel it with my skin. "Gordo want DATE!"

"Not yet Gordo, I'll need to train her first." Hank said, clearly worried that Gordo was going to go after me right then and there.

Personally, I was so sure he was about rape me, I piddled myself in fright.

Gordo watched me watering the path between my widely spread legs and laughed the laugh of a retard. "Gordo fuck you, girley, that promise."

Then, reluctantly, they each walked away in a different direction. In a minute the chain saws started up, raping the air with their infernal noise. My Master tethered me by tying my elbows to a chain hanging from a tripod of rough-cut logs and untied the cart from my waist. I was on tiptoes, my wracked elbows supporting most of my weight. But the worst of my torture was the sound of those four saws. I wanted to scream in horror, almost feeling the bite of the saws into my own flesh. Soon the motors began to work, cutting serious wood. The sound of the first tree crashing to ground came only a few moments later.

"Its not as efficient as clear cutting, but with the price of prime lumber where it is we can afford to pay these guys to thin. The lumber gets out of here by cargo chopper, already cut into rough balks and ready for our finish mill down in the national forest."

I looked around me at the half raped stand of old growth forest. I thought about the waste involved in logging like this. It was like hunting bison for its tongue. They were leaving the majority of the biomass behind to rot. The resulting explosion of termites and bark boring beetles would soon destroy this entire stand of trees, if fire didn't do it first.

But Hank of course saw it differently. "Listen Honey, the Greens just don't have the right information. Its all right there in the bible. God gave us this land for our use. And the bible says He is going to destroy all of this soon. Anything we don't use now, goes to waste after the trump."

Now I was really afraid. I was in the hands of a True Believer, a Christo-Nazi. He was member of the neo-con conspiracy, a rabid Republican.

"The reason this mesa exists is a huge deposit of uranium bearing ore that did not erode as fast as the surrounding plain. We plan to have that ore someday and I don't mean shaft mining. If the good lord holds off long enough this entire mesa will be left a toxic pit next to a mountain of radioactive tailings and slag."

"And you think your God will welcome you after you've destroyed his-Ahiagh!" I said/screamed as the whip began biting into my rump.

"BEASTS of BURDEN may HARBOR any O-PIN-IONS they WANT!" He said, hitting my rump with every other word. "But BEASTS of BURDEN do NOT exPRESS those O-PIN-IONS in the PREsence of their MASTERS."

By the time I could again focus my screams had drawn the loggers away from their work again. There I stood, tethered to a hanging chain, my ass on fire, my naked, shaved pussy swollen and dripping with helpless slave lust.

"Back to work you Bozos, we don't need any help here." Snarled my Master, unzipping the fly on his shorts.

Again the loggers withdrew. But this time, I noticed, in a group. Hank wasn't watching them, being too busy enjoying the feel of my poor red and welted ass rubbing against his rock hard cock. I wondered if I should warn him that he had labor problems brewing. If it came to it I did not think my Master would win, not against those guys. And somehow I was not wild about the thought of "dating" that gorilla Gordo.

"Permission to speak Master?" I risked, watching the delegation coming back through the trees for a third time.

"Shut up and spread your feet." He ordered probing between my cheeks, trying to find my asshole.

The human head can sometimes make the most interesting noises. My Master's sounded like a dropped flowerpot. Then his knees collapsed and he went off to explore la la land.

Organized Labor had just presented Management with its opening demands. It might take a while before Management would make a counter offer.

I was left, standing alone, tethered, naked, freshly whipped and helpless. The four men stood around me, looking at each other, silently deciding amongst themselves who was going to get me first. As far as I could see it looked like Gordo would win. He was, after all the one holding a club the size of a baseball bat.

"Dibs on going first!" Said the fat guy, unbuttoning his bibbers.

We all looked at Gordo. - - - Who thought it over for a minute, nodded his head and stepped back, as did the other two a heart beat later.

"Let's let the lovebirds be alone, shall we?" Said the Indian with the trust-me eyes. Bending to pick up Hank's feet while Gordo got his shoulders they walked away into the woods, leaving me all alone with now naked the fat man.

"Hi, my name's Jack. How's it going?" He said, drawing a finger up through my dripping labia and sniffing it like is were a fine cigar.

When it was over, leaving me well short of orgasm, I got a visit from long beard, who introduced himself as Frank then used my butt, preferring it, he said, to sloppy seconds.

Old Chief "Trust-me" eyes came next and gave me my first orgasm, stretching it out in a long delicious dance of shared pleasure.

And then I was looking at Gordo, stripped naked and looking like The Hulk. Suddenly I understood why Gordo had let the others go first. He was hung like a horse. There would be nothing left for the others if that monster fucked me first.

Gordo was large but he was also quick. Before I knew what he intended he'd released the tether from my elbows. Before I could try to run I was upside down over his broad shoulder. Before I knew we were going, we were gone.

He carried me like that for more than a mile, always running, always heading up slope. The one and only time I made the slightest sound he silenced me with a swat on my ass.

When he put me down I was breathing almost as hard as he was. He looked down at me and said, Special Agent Gordon Phillips at your service, mam. Could you tell me your name?

"What? My God, is it true?" I cried, rolling to my side and trying to sit up.

"Yes mam. I'm undercover, checking on some things we've been hearing about this operation. You need to tell me your name.

"Honey Bishop, I'm from Berkley California. Are you going to untie me?" I asked, fluttering my wracked shoulders and big breasts at him.

"I don't dare. It would blow my cover." He said, kneeling between my knees, his huge horse-cock in his fist. "Don't worry, I'll be gentle as possible."

"What are you doing?" I squeaked, trying to butt-cheek myself back away from him. You can't rape me, you are an officer of the law."

"Keep your voice down. Neither of us will get out of here alive if those guys find out I'm FBI." He whispered, taking grip on my ankle and using it to force me over onto my face. "Sorry, but hung like I am, it tends to show on girls after they've ridden this." He said, sliding his Polish sausage between my butt cheeks. "They tend to show some wear and tear. Especially ones I've spent a couple of hours with, as I plan to do with you."

"Please?" I whispered into the pine needles as he switched to sliding his big cock down between my thighs, rubbing himself against my crimson opening.

"Please what?" He said, stretching my welted labia wide and positioning his huge, rock-hard cock between them.

"Please, I only lost my virginity yesterday morning." I said, wondering whether I would wear or tear. "Please- - - be careful."

And he was careful, careful and considerate and very, very thorough. Two hours later he carried me back to the others. I was worn out, limp as a rag and dripping cum from all three holes. At least I wasn't torn, stretched all to Hell maybe but not bleeding. Sometime, before getting to the cage they'd built for sex slaves, I passed out.

It was mid afternoon before I woke up. By this time Hank had begun to come around and was lying next to me, bound exactly as I was, naked and with his elbows tied together in the middle of his back. He had whip welts all over and dried cum on his chin and asshole.

Jack, the fat one, sitting a chair outside the barred door saw that I was awake and came in to stand over me. "Welcome back Honey. Welcome to Camp Freedom." He waved his hand around the rough cabin/cage I was lying in. It was two thirds underground, stoutly built of rough cut balks and with bars on the slit windows. The Earth sheltered cabin was divided into two rooms by a set of honest to God prison bars. On one side were built-in cots and a honey bucket. On the other side of the bars were a comfortable bed, furniture and a suspicious plentitude of eyebolts screwed into the walls and ceiling. Beside the bed was a table covered with toys, nasty looking toys. At its foot a huge dresser with loose ends of rope and straps hanging out.

Reaching down to grip Hank's head, Jack spoke to the still half dazed man. "We work up here eight months a year, the company has agreed to provide us with food wages and pussy. Two out of three is not enough."

He let the head flop, face down, finger thumping his goose egg as he turned toward me to continue. "Greedy bastard, was supposed to keep us in pussy. What does he do? Claim they need training. Hell, by the time he thinks they are trained they are more than half dead."

"The little prick is his father's son all right, always skimming the profits and never honoring a labor contract." Said Frank, the bearded one, who'd come into the dugout carrying food on a tray.

I rolled and sat up to get a better look at my fellow prisoner. Hank was still only half conscious. Both of his eyes were black and swollen, his nose was broken, and there was cum on his chin. The goose egg on the back of his head was still more than an inch high. From the neck down he was as welt marked as I, but his were all fresh and angry looking welts.

Jack came in and took a grip on the ropes on my elbows. Lifting me to my feet and guiding me to the table outside the cage. "Its broth, I'll have to feed you."

"What kind of broth?" I asked, knowing from the smell it was Beef.

"What kind will you eat?" He asked, his eye twinkling.

"I'm a vegetarian. Meat always makes me sick to my stomach." I say, cringing.

"Well then, it just so happens that this is vegetable broth, artificially flavored to taste like beef." He lied, offering the first spoonful to my lips.

I turned away, gagging at the meat smell.

He shrugged and took the bowl in and sat it on the floor next to Hank's bed. "When he comes around he will be glad its there."

I looked up at him, forced a tear and said, "Please, is there any way you could untie my elbows?"

He looked serious for a moment. Then said, "Some guys double the punishment when their slaves ask for mercy. I'm not like that. How's this? If I do untie your elbows will you give me one of those blow jobs you gave Hank last night?"

"I'd do anything to get my elbows loose." I said, truthfully. Then asked, "How do you know that?"

"We have been watching you of course. Hank told us not to log while he was breaking you in so we had lots of time to go over there and watch you two, fucking in the moonlight."

I blushed, thinking about the hours I spent spread eagled over that rock.

"So now what happens?" I said, trying not to scream as the ropes were unwound from my elbows.

"So now we will log by day and fuck by night, just like it says in the contract.

"I never signed any contract." I said, pushing to see how far he would let me go.

"Tough luck." He said looking deep into my eyes and reading my soul. "Thing is, after watching you the four of us agree you are enjoying your captivity like a tourist enjoys San Francisco.

"God, I was acting, trying to fool Hank so he would trust me, maybe give me a chance to escape!"

"Well, that might be what you told yourself you were doing but that isn't how it was. Not by a long shot."

Then sitting beside Hank he said, "Junior here is the company president and majority stock holder's heir apparent. We plan to teach him some manners then split for parts unknown, taking you and his ransom with us."

"Won't daddy just send some cops up here to rescue his son? After all, he knows where this place is."

"When he gets the ransom note we won't be here. Gordo says he knows how to fly the cargo chopper that comes every third day to haul away the harvest. We'll just overpower the pilot and fly the fuck out of here. That chopper has a range of four hundred miles. Think Daddy will have any trouble finding us in a space that large? He'll try for a while, but eventually he'll fold. Money and pride are important to guys like him but he has only one son and money can be replaced."

"You will be hunted down like dogs." Hank mumbled from his bunk.

"Once we're holding that cash we can hide anywhere." Jack said, walking into the cage and squatting beside the helpless man. "I'll take that chance. How's your head?"

"Head hurts." Mumbled Hank, trying to move his elbows so they wouldn't ache so much. "Everything hurts."

"That's just Sam's idea of justice." chuckled Jack. "He said it would do you a heap of good to suffer some of your own medicine."

"I need a drink." Hank mumbled, licking his dry, cum incrusted lips. "My God someone must have gone berserk with the whip."

"Sam tried to make you two into a perfectly matched pair. If you hurt think about her. She had it done while she was awake." Jack said, smacking Hank's welt covered ass. "Think about it!"

He then got up and returned to me sitting naked on the bed, my hands bound together behind my back. "Now, about that blowjob."

Jack enjoyed my blowjob so much he told the others about it.

By the time the moon came up I was beginning to believe there was no end to the cocks.

When they returned me to the cell they took Hank back over to the other side. Sam stood waiting, in war paint. I could see his well blown pony swinging low between his thighs and licked my lips, remembering the tastes of all four of them.

They dragged Hank over to a wall and tied his feet out wide, his back against the wall. Then they untied his wrists and elbows so they could stretch his limp, unresisting arms up to two more rings.

Jack stood back, taking picture after picture of Hank and his unfortunate condition. "When Daddy sees these he is going to shit gold." He said, getting in tight to get a shot of Hank's welted groin.

"How much do you want?" Hank said, his voice flat.

"Well now, thinking of paying your own ransom to avoid having your perversions revealed?"

"I would do that if I could." Said Hank, every inch the businessman. "I would spare my parents the shame if I could afford it.

"How much can you afford to pay, without your father catching on?" Sam said.

I can get four million in bearer bonds, brought up on the next chopper."

"What a curious number, exactly one million each." Jack said, also all business. "We were thinking about asking for twelve, three each."

"My dad will never pay that much."

Turning to the other four, Jack asked, "Think the boy's got the boodle? Or is he just shining us on?"

Hank answered first, "He's a Republican, of course he's lying."

Jack returned from the dresser, armed with a ball of cord. "How about it, Hank ole boy, think you can come up with a little bit more, say eight mil? I could live on two mil if I had to.

Looking down at the noosed cord Hank nodded his head and said, "Ya, ok but I'll be taking a chance that dad will notice."

"Good, eight million it is, now tell us how to get those bonds brought up here."

"It will be half in bonds, the rest in diamonds and cash." Said Hank, watching in fascination as Jack tied a hangman's knot into the end of the cord he was holding.

"How much cash?" Frank asked, reaching down to fondle Hank's big soft, welt covered cock.

"About a half mil." I keep it in a safe deposit box in Phoenix, just in case I need to get out of a jam."

Hank's cock, semi-erect by this time, was suddenly cinched in the little hangman's noose, the cord biting in just behind the glands penis. Jack smiled at Hank and said, "How about making it twelve million, could you do that?" He held up three links of heavy logging chain and began threading them onto the cord on the prisoner's cock.

"Could you do that to get us to take off the weight?" He said letting the links swing down to crash against the wall between Hanks knees.

Behind Jack, Sam clicked away, filling the digital camera's memory with images of the poor little pervert getting some of his own.

In the end they settled on ten point six million dollars. By that time Hank's cock was stretched to nearly twice its former length.

Then they turned him around and fucked him, each taking their turn, their victim screaming like a baby as his ass gave it up.

The next day the chopper came. On it was a cardboard box containing the ransom. The loggers attached the huge pallet of rough milled timber to the chopper's cargo hooks and the sky crane departed.

Then Frank hiked down to Hank's Land Rover to take some samples of the bonds and some of the lesser diamonds to have them appraised. In the mean time they entertained their two captives.