squirmed and struggled, but Skylar's bondage held. None of
the rope bands shifted, not even a little, and there were no
knots within the severely limited range of her groping
fingers. Staring at her bound feet, she noted the rope in
question was braided nylon, something like a quarter-inch in
diameter, and was dyed in a variety of forest colors: brown,
rust, olive-green, dark-tan, black etc. And it had a
mottled appearance, like it was tie-dyed rather than woven in a
She was sitting cross-legged in the dirt, and there were tree
roots under her naked butt and thighs, but they were small, a
slight irritation more than a source of torment. She could
have rolled onto her side, but very much doubted that position
would be more comfortable. As time passed, her back began
complaining about the rope-enforced crunch, but there was
nothing she could do about it.
More time passed.
Kennedy listened for cars and trucks. The road wasn't that
far away, but all she heard was a distant, periodic hum as
vehicles passed. However, after several minutes she
discovered she had company. Tiny songbirds were flitting
from branch to branch, overhead. From her awkward position
she couldn't make out any details, but they appeared to be
mostly gray, with black caps and flashes of white. They
twittered and flitted through the canopy, and unless it was her
imagination, they seemed to be checking her out. Not
surprising, the naked, bound, and gagged prisoner
thought. It probably isn't every day they see a
tied-up human. It might be more common closer to the
Castle, when Lena plays with Viv, but not way the hell out
Suddenly, the little birds gave startled tweets and were
gone. A few seconds later, Kennedy found herself gazing at
Skylar's moccasins and camouflaged pant legs. She lifted
her chin, looked up, and confirmed that the rest of her latest
captor had also returned. The Native American beauty's
woodcraft was impressive. Kennedy had heard nothing.
One second she was alone, not counting the little birds, and the
next second Skylar had appeared.
Kennedy watched as Skylar eased a rucksack off her back and set
it on the ground. That was followed by a hunting rifle,
which she carefully leaned against the rucksack with the barrel
well off the ground. Kennedy surmised Skylar had dropped
her gear earlier, when she crossed Kennedy's trail and decided
to pursue, and now she'd retrieved it. The rucksack was
brown canvas, weathered and worn, but in good repair The
rifle's sling was brown, braided leather decorated with a few
tassels and beads.
Without a word, Skylar untied the rope tethering Kennedy to the
overhead branch, then released her from the crunch, untied her
crossed ankles, and helped her naked, bound, and gagged captive
to her Hobbit Slipper-clad feet. She then looped one end
of the rope around Kennedy's neck and tied a non-compacting
Kennedy watched Skylar don her rucksack and sling her rifle,
unsure what she should do, how she should behave. Should
she mumble garbled complaints through her gag? Stamp her
slipper-clad feet? She decided to do nothing but stand and
watch, and she watched with great interest as, with practiced
ease, Skylar reached back to a side-pocket of the rucksack with
her left hand and pulled out a small canteen.
With the coiled end of Kennedy's leash-rope looped through her
right arm, Skylar stepped behind Kennedy, untied and loosened
her cleave-gag, plucked the wad of cloth from her mouth, then
held the canteen for her to drink.
And drink Kennedy did, gulping repeatedly and swallowing about a
cup of cool water. Then, the canteen was gone.
Kennedy licked her lips. "Thank y—ummf!" The rag was
back in her mouth and the cleave-gag was tightening at the nape
of her neck. "Nrrrrm!" This time she did stamp her
feet, but was ignored.
Kennedy continued complaining as Skylar stepped off. The
leash snapped taut—"Urrrk!—and she stumbled in her captor's
wake. She had no idea where Skylar was taking her.
She assumed it would be back to Castle Vidler, but that didn't
seem to be the direction they were taking, not that Kennedy had
a solid lock on their bearings. Maybe she's cutting
over to a nearby trail, Kennedy reasoned.
|The Curious Case...
mid-afternoon, possibly a little later, and Kennedy's Hobbit
Slipper-clad feet were not happy, and neither was the
rest of her.
The ropes didn't help. She was tired of being tied
up. Ditto with the gag. And it was too hot. It
wasn't actually hot hot, not burning desert hot, but if
a giant outdoor thermostat was available, Kennedy would have
dialed it back a few degrees. What she really needed was a
break, a chance to rest her aching feet. That, and maybe a
little more water from Skylar's canteen.
And speaking of Skylar, she was showing no sign of tiring or
slowing down. She kept hiking and hiking, gliding along
silently on her moccasins with Kennedy stumbling in her wake at
the end of the rope leash. It would all be very Last
of the Mohicans if Skylar wasn't dressed in modern
camouflage and Kennedy wasn't naked, instead of in a ripped,
soiled, and ridiculous 18th century dress. That would have
really been hot... temperature-wise, not stylistically.
Kennedy was more and more convinced they weren't taking anything
like a direct route back to the Castle. The woods were the
same mature stands of trees interspersed with pocket meadows or
clumps of secondary growth to break the monotony, but the
direction was off. Either that or Kennedy's internal
sun-compass was out of whack, which wasn't a complete
impossibility. Anyway, Kennedy was nearing the end of her
tether—pun not intended—and was seriously considering throwing a
Then, they arrived at their apparent destination.
For the last several minutes they'd been hiking through climax
forest, tall trees without much undergrowth. Then, up
ahead, Kennedy heard water gurgling and splashing. They
came to a small stream, no more than a couple of feet at its
widest, running through a more-or-less linear mass of rounded
rocks and small boulders. And off to the side, a few yards
from the talking water, was a campsite. It was only a
small fire pit and a lean-to made by stretching a camouflage
tarp from a horizontal pole lashed between two conveniently
spaced trees. Under the lean-to was a weather-tight,
olive-drab trunk or packing case and a bedroll, a loosely rolled
sleeping bag atop an unrolled foam pad.
Skylar tied the end of Kennedy's leash to a tree branch near the
stream, then continued on to the lean-to, where she shrugged out
of her knapsack and slung her rifle from the stub of a broken
branch on one of the shelter's supporting trees.
Kennedy gazed at the running water, then heaved a sigh of
longing. So near, so far, yadda-yadda-yadda.
She returned her gaze to Skylar... and her eyes widened.
Skylar was pulling her tank-top over her head, revealing even
more of her smooth, brown, athletic, but very feminine physique,
as well as a black sports-bra. She tossed the tank-top
onto the foam pad, kicked off her moccasins, then unbuckled her
belt, unbuttoned and unzipped her pants, and peeled them down
her legs. This revealed a pair of black, very French-cut
bikini-panties, as well as a long pair of legs that complemented
the rest of her incredible body. And then, she removed the
bra, peeled down and stepped free of the panties, and tossed
them onto the pad.
Kennedy blinked and continued to stare. I like her
hair, she thought. Skylar had what was probably best
described as a shaggy page-boy, a short cut that framed her face
and was well-off her shoulders. It wasn't traditional—not
that Kennedy was an expert in Native American hairstyles—but it
looked good, in the ginger captive's humble (naked, bound, and
Skylar had boobs, about the size and shape as Kennedy's, only
brown, like the rest of her, as opposed to freckled. She
also had a slender waist, full hips, a well-sculpted abdomen,
and firm, smooth thighs. At least, Kennedy assumed they
were firm and smooth. They certainly looked firm and
smooth. Also a black, dense, curly pubic bush.
Kennedy's latest captor was very easy on the eyes,
especially in her birthday suit.
Nude and apparently untroubled by the bare ground under her now
bare feet, Skylar strolled past Kennedy and stepped into the
stream. She gracefully sat in the water, which came up to
her waist, then cupped her hands and started splashing and
ladling the clear and no doubt refreshingly cool water
over her head, shoulders, and upper body.
Kennedy heaved a sad sigh and settled to the ground, sitting in
the dirt on her bare butt with her legs crossed and her back and
bound arms against a tree trunk. It isn't fair.
If anyone in the campsite needed a bath, it was Gingerella.
Skylar continued ladling water over her body, pausing now and
then to slide her hands across her brown skin.
It isn't fair, Kennedy pouted.
|The Curious Case...
closed her eyes, just for a moment, to let them
rest—"Urrk?"—then snapped awake. Skylar was looming and
dripping over her. The nude, smiling beauty knelt and
plucked Kennedy's Hobbit Slippers from her feet, then stood,
released her leash from the tree branch, and led her to the
stream... make that into the stream. A delicate
shiver shook the naked captive's body as Skylar sat back down,
taking Kennedy with her. Then, Skylar cupped her hands and
began ladling water over Kennedy's head.
The water was cool and refreshing, as Kennedy had
hoped. Soon, she was drenched and dripping from head to
toe, including her rope bonds, cloth gag, and now somewhat
darker red curls. She would have thanked her captor for
the bath, but her sopping gag was still effective. All she
managed was a contented, gagged sigh. "Mmmf." Then,
her blue eyes popped wide and she shivered, again.
Skylar was using her hands to scrub the dirt from Kennedy's
body, and she was taking her time, sliding her fingers and palms
across every square inch of freckled skin not hidden by
rope. Shoulders, tummy, breasts—she paid special attention
to Kennedy's breasts—thighs, feet... Skylar took her time,
getting her prisoner as squeaky clean as she could without
soap. Kennedy cooperated as best she could. Skylar
had chosen a section of stream bed where the rounded rocks and
pebbles were reasonably kind, even to a non-stoic tenderfoot
like Kennedy, and Skylar was supporting, even embracing
Kennedy's bound body as she caressed and cleaned her captive.
Skylar loosened the cleaving cloth and plucked the sopping wad
of cloth from Kennedy's mouth, then cupped her hands so the
prisoner could drink. "Thank you," Kennedy sighed.
Skylar didn't answer, but took advantage of the cleave-gag's
absence to scrub Kennedy's face. The narrowly folded
cleave-gag cloth remained around the captive's neck, now a wet
"Are you taking me back to the Castle?" Kennedy asked. She
watched as Skylar thoroughly rinsed the stuffing-cloth in the
water, then spread it over a nearby boulder to dry. "I
wouldn't have gotten anybody in trouble. I just wanted to,
uh, escape for a while."
Skylar's lips curled in a wry smile. "You were gonna find
a bar? Maybe walk back to the Castle after a few?"
"No," Kennedy sighed. "I mean... I don't know."
Kennedy was surprised to realize she really didn't know exactly
what she'd intended to do once she reached Beacon Hill, assuming
Beacon Hill was, in fact, the nearest town. She'd
concentrated on getting out, not what she'd do once she was
out. "I... I don't want to get anybody in trouble."
Skylar's reply was to place the cleave-gag back in Kennedy's
mouth, cinch it tight, then restore the knot under her wet
curls. Without stuffing the gag was less effective, but
the message was clear. Skylar Smoke wasn't interested in
conversation. She lifted Kennedy's right foot from the
water and examined it for blisters. Finding none, she
began a deep but gentle massage with her strong fingers.
Kennedy lay back in the water and sighed through her tight
cleave-gag. Skylar was good. She knew what to do
with her hands. Kennedy's left foot was also examined and
massaged. Then, Skylar pulled Kennedy into a tight embrace
from behind. Kennedy squirmed and wiggled her wet,
freckled body against Skylar's brown, equally wet body.
She could feel Skylar's breasts pressing against her bound
hands, and her captor's right hand was sliding through her
crotch, apparently making sure her pussy was very
clean. At the same time, Skylar's left hand was cupping
Kennedy's left breast... and it was squeezing.
Kennedy shivered in Skylar's embrace. The water splashed
around their bodies as Skylar's hands continued to slide and
knead the ginger captive's pussy and breast.
"Mrrrrf." It was a gagged moan, not a complaint. The
massage—meaning lovemaking—continued and continued... and then
"Urrf?" Skylar had stood up, taking Kennedy with
her. She planted the prisoner's bare feet on a flat rock
beside the stream, then tied the end of her leash to another
convenient tree branch. Needless to say, Kennedy's skin
and her bonds were dripping wet. Water streamed down her
freckled form and pooled at her feet. Her bonds were
saturated, but the nylon rope was unaffected. The strands
and knots neither swelled nor loosened.
Meanwhile, Skylar strolled to the lean-to, opened the trunk,
produced a brown towel, and began drying her body and hair.
I guess I get to drip dry, Kennedy thought, watching the
thirsty terrycloth glide over Skylar's brown skin. Credit
where credit's due. She's gorgeous. The bath
had been nice, as had the clean, clear water Skylar had allowed
her to drink. The ropes and gag still sucked, but the bath
had been nice. Under the dappled shade of the trees,
Kennedy was a little chilly. The water had begun to
evaporate. It's a relative thing, more a matter of not
being too hot than being too cold, she decided, if
that makes any sense.
Skylar finished toweling her hair, ran her fingers through her
still damp, raven-black locks to straighten them out, then hung
the towel from the same horizontal pole supporting the lean-to
tarp. She then stepped into her moccasins, reached back
into the locker, and pulled out a steel cook-pot with a lid and
two pouches of freeze-dried food. The distance was too
great for Kennedy to read the labels on the pouches.
Kennedy's stomach grumbled. Dinner?
Nude but for her moccasins, Skylar carried the pot and pouches
to the fire pit, then strolled away into the woods.
Where the hell is she going? Kennedy wondered. She
watched as, some distance from the camp, Skylar reached up and
pulled a dead branch from a tree, then took several more steps
and pulled down a second branch. Oh.
Firewood. Of course.
Kennedy's body continued to dry... as did her tousled ginger
curls... as did her nylon rope bonds... as did her tight,
|The Curious Case...
"Beef Stroganoff," and Kennedy thought it was surprisingly
good. Not just good for freeze-dried backpacking food, but
actually good. Hiking most of the day without lunch may
have had something to do with it. They ate from the pot,
or rather, Skylar fed Kennedy and herself from the pot.
As for dinner conversation, they enjoyed a far ranging and in
depth discussion of world politics, the cinema, their favorite
books, and had a sing-along of Taylor Swift's Greatest Hits—NOT!
In not so many words, Skylar made it clear that Kennedy should
keep the chattering at or near zero if she wanted to eat
something other than gag. Kennedy refrained from
smalltalk, accepted spoonfuls of stroganoff as they were
presented, then chewed and swallowed. Skylar had also
prepared some sort of tea. Half of it was collected herbs
and half dried tealeaves, and Kennedy accepted sips of the
resulting brew from a common cup. It was as good as the
stroganoff, in her naked, bound, and weary opinion.
Skylar hadn't dressed for dinner, not counting her moccasins,
and Kennedy was equally nude, not counting her rope bonds or the
jaunty gag-bandana around her neck. Kennedy had to admit,
Skylar looked very beautiful in the rapidly dwindling daylight,
and as time passed, by the light from the flickering fire.
As for Kennedy, she was sure her ginger curls were a tousled
So, they finished the shared dinner, Kennedy watched Skylar
clean her cooking pot in the stream, learning in the process
that you could accomplish the task with clean sand, free-flowing
water, and no soap, if the inside of the pot isn't scorched and
you aren't too fussy about the appearance of the outside bottom
Then, Skylar and her captive guest retired to the lean-to,
snuggled into the sleeping bag, and drifted off to sleep—NOT!
Actually, all of that happened—but in between climbing into the
bag and drifting off to sleep—Skylar treated naked, helplessly
bound Kennedy to her version of the Kama Suthra's Greatest
Hits. Yes, it was yet another night of orgasm after
orgasm for poor Gingerella, and the Ojibwe huntress was just as
skilled as Vivienne in the art of nookie. Anyway, that
night the naked, strong, maid-of-the-forest rang Kennedy's
chimes... repeatedly... a lot.
Kennedy and Vivienne, that was one thing: slave-girls offering
mutual commiseration with the gift of pleasure. It was all very
romantic and dramatic, or maybe melodramatic.
Skylar and Kennedy—that was different. Their relationship
was that of predator and prey. Or not. There had
been some eating involved (not counting the stroganoff) but
Kennedy wasn't feeling anything like Skylar's victim. Was
Skylar stoic? Yes. A bully? No. Kennedy
couldn't think of Skylar as a bully. Was Skylar in
charge? Hell yes.
Skylar was also on top, most of the time. They were both
on top of the unzipped and spread open sleeping bag, and most of
the time Kennedy was pinned on her back and bound arms with
Skylar kissing her face, licking her nipples, or teasing her
pussy with her lips and tongue. Sometimes they were face
to face, and sometimes face to pussy, but Skylar was always on
top. She was also inexhaustible. Kennedy was far
from passive, and despite her tiredness, got in a few licks of
her own, but mostly Gingerella was the instrument and Skylar was
|The Curious Case...
arrived with Skylar not on top, but embracing Kennedy from the
side, and they were both inside the sleeping bag. Kennedy
didn't remember a formal end to the previous night's
festivities, but obviously at some point Skylar had zipped them
up and drifted off to sleep. Kennedy greeted the dawn
refreshed (meaning only a little sore in various and sundry
places) and ready for whatever came next (maybe).
"Morning, Skylar," Kennedy sighed as she sat up and awkwardly
kicked her feet free of the sleeping bag. "I don't suppose
I could talk you into untying me, please?" She watched as
Skylar stood, stepped into her moccasins, uncapped her canteen,
and took a swig of water. Kennedy licked her lips in
anticipation as Skylar held the canteen for her to drink.
"Thanks," she sighed as Skylar restored the cap. "Also, I
think we should talk about what's happening at the Castle.
Now, I don't want to get anyone in trouble, like I said
Skylar had stuffed the wadded cloth from yesterday into
Kennedy's unprepared and now outraged mouth and was retying the
bandana still around her neck as a cleave-gag. "You talk
too much," Skylar muttered, then strolled to the fire pit and
restarted the fire, expertly deploying tinder and kindling over
the banked coals of yesterday's fire and blowing flames to life.
"Mrrrpfh!" The emotional restraint of yesterday was a
thing of the past. Skylar Smoke was now a known
commodity. Kennedy stared daggers at the nude, athletic,
dark-skinned beauty as she heated some water in a small pot,
apparently preparing to brew some coffee, and Kennedy's visual
knives were every bit as sharp as the ones she'd stared at Lena
back at the Castle. Unfortunately, they were also just as
ineffective. She watched as Skylar enjoyed a breakfast of
coffee and some sort of trail-mix and/or energy bar, which she
Skylar rigged a rope under the tarp so the unzipped sleeping bag
could air out and yet be protected from any hypothetical rain,
cleaned up the rest of the campsite, which didn't take much
effort, then lifted Kennedy to her grumpy feet, ignored the
steady stream of visual daggers, and retied the leash rope
around the captive's neck. She poured the contents of her
canteen over the fire, making sure it was completely out, then
refilled the canteen in the stream. Next, she helped
Kennedy into her borrowed Hobbit Slippers. Finally, she
dressed in her camouflaged pants and tank-top, donned her
rucksack and slung her rifle, gave Kennedy's leash a tug, and
they were off.
|The Curious Case...
morning hike did nothing to improve Kennedy's mood. She
worked out the stiffness in her legs rather quickly, but her
legs were drenched and chilled by the dew in the occasional
stands of tall grass they encountered. Also, her low
opinion of Hobbit Slippers as hiking boots remained unchanged.
After about an hour they came to what was unmistakably a hiking
trail, and Skylar stepped onto the clearly defined track without
hesitation. Kennedy followed, of course. The leash
left her no choice.
They continued hiking for a second hour. And then, taking
Kennedy completely by surprise, she found she was "home."
One moment they were surrounded by trees, the trail took a
double turn through some tall bushes, then Kennedy found herself
following Skylar out onto the mowed lawn with Castle Vidler
looming before them. Again, Skylar didn't even pause, but
continued across the lawn to one of the Down Below side doors.
Kennedy realized this was her last chance to convince Skylar to
listen to her pro-emancipation arguments. Okay, it was her
last chance to beg and whine before being handed over to The
Evil Mistress Lena. She pulled back on her leash and
mewled through her gag. "Nrrrpfh!"
Skylar's response was unsympathetic, to say the least.
With only the trace of a smile curling her lips, the Native
American beauty reeled in Kennedy's leash, took a firm hold of
the captive's ginger curls, and resumed walking towards the
"Mfff!" Skylar's grip wasn't actually painful, but it was
certainly effective. Kennedy knew herself to be totally
under control. "Urrk!" Also, she could do nothing to
prevent her handler from forcing her to her knees on the grass
near the side door, and then onto her side.
"M'mpfh!" Nor could she prevent Skylar from seizing her
ankles, crossing them, and using the leash-rope to lash then
together and to her other bonds, crafting a tight, no nonsense
Kennedy squirmed on the still slightly wet grass and watched
Skylar take the three or four steps necessary to reach the door,
then ease the rifle off her shoulder and shrug out of her
knapsack. She opened the flap and produced the folded
rain-jacket Kennedy had "borrowed" from Lena and set it on the
stoop, then secured the flap and donned the knapsack, slung the
rifle, and rang the doorbell. Then—without a glance back
at Kennedy's helpless form—Skylar strolled back across the lawn
and into the forest. "Mrrrm?"
Seconds passed... then, the door opened and Lena appeared.
She was dressed in her usual sandals, jeans, and tank-top.
Today, the top was a very pretty shade of dusky rose and her
blond hair was loose about her shoulders, framing her beautiful
but none-too-happy face.
Kennedy rolled onto her side and stared at Lena. She
realized her heart was hammering and her breasts heaving as she
panted through her nostrils and gag. "Urrrk?"
Lena stared back for a few seconds. Then, slowly shaking
her head, stooped and retrieved her rain-jacket, unfolded it and
shook it out, then reentered the house, taking the jacket with
her, of course, and closing the door behind her.
Kennedy blinked at the door in surprise. Seconds
passed. Kennedy listened to her heart hammering in her
Finally, the door opened and Lena reappeared. She stepped
forward and knelt at Kennedy's side, released the hogtie, and
untied the captive's ankles. She then lifted Kennedy to
her feet, coiled the leash-rope still tied around the returned
fugitive's neck, took a firm grip on the ropes binding Kennedy's
upper body, and led her towards the door.
"You're in a lot of trouble, Gingerella," Mistress
sighed as they crossed the threshold and she closed the door
|The Curious Case...