Gromet's PlazaSelf Bondage Stories

Desert Escapade2

by Sadistiq

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© Copyright 2010 - Sadistiq - Used by permission

Storycodes: Sbm; outdoors; rope; gag; blindfold; buried; naked; M/m; bdsm; marking; cons/reluct; XX

continued from part one

For Gromet and all those who read this site. You are real to me. This is a work of fiction. As per standard, take extreme care when you tie and/or bind or lock yourself up. And especially when you play with anyone. Don’t, I repeat, DON’T burn anyone! And always have an ‘out’. Know your limits. And know theirs. Otherwise you may very well kick that nasty breathing to live habit you got going on. Savvy? Anyway, on with it.

Part Two

I had fun and did get out of my self-inflicted torture. To be sure, I did a bit of struggling and moving muscles I did not know I had. My back is still sore! I found my twine, and released myself.

Then, as any good SB should, I posted my grand story.

Surprising to me, I received feedback. I received a constructive critique from Strand, as well as others who enjoyed my story. One in particular stayed a might longer than the others.

Dave is a sub who enjoys being tied up.

Although I tended to myself well enough, it perplexed me a bit as to what he would want. He called on me to help him with his own fantasies. I am more than accommodating to a fault. So what to do.

Would he accept me? Will he follow my orders to the letter? Would he trust me?

He did on all counts.

He sent many pictures. So I knew his body. Although he appeared shorter than his 6’2” build, I still had him measure his lower legs- knee to foot. Why I had him do this will become apparent very shortly.

The river always runs here. Even in the desert, we have a vein of water. One just has to know where to look. It keeps the ground soft in some areas. The areas I am digging into right now. Two holes in the river bed, about a yard or more apart. Each a full yard or more deep. But not wide. Beside them, two buckets of water. Just as I finished these preparations, Dave arrived.

After some wrestling with mine own judgment, I brought him here. He was to text me when he was where we were to meet. In my mind’s eye I saw him. Long and lanky. A determined strut. Torn and faded denim jeans barely keeping his ample manhood from flopping out. Hair a bit too short, but we’ll change that.

He messaged me. “Where U at?”

I then instructed him where to go. Not too far. Less than a quarter mile. I imagined he could use such exercise. I had just managed up to a hill that showed me the full expanse of this desert and what life is there. Many animals and insects. Trees and bushes blooming to the bust. Alive. An entity into itself. Even in the 105 degree heat. But it showed me something else now. My all-too-willing victim Dave. From my binoculars I could almost see him shaking. Or was that me?

Through my magnified eyes I saw he found the rock and read the instructions. They were as such… shifted “Hello boy. Welcome to the apex of Hell. If you wish, you may turn back and leave. Otherwise, read on…”

He paused for a second and looked around. Then he tilted his head to read more. I took that as a cue and began to make my way off of the hill.

The rest of the message read, “You will tear this note apart after reading these instructions. You are at the bank of a gully. A ‘dry’ river bed. You will enter this wash, and turn left. Walk ninety paces, and find further instructions.”

I paused on the hill long enough to see him go into the ravine.

After ninety exhausting paces through sand Dave came upon the set up with the holes, narrow and long. Also two stakes five or so feet beyond that, spread wide. He found the other note, stuck in the mouth of a face drawn into the sand.

“So you’ve made it here. These holes before you are important. You will put your feet into these. Allow yourself to get comfortable with it. I would prefer your toes pointing downward, as it may cause you discomfort. Once you are situated, pour one half of a bucket into the holes where your lower legs lay.”

I spied him now, sitting with his legs in the holes.

He shifted his weight. Getting comfortable with the idea. He then poured the water into the holes, over his feet. The rest of the message, I knew, worried him.

“If you have gotten this far, go the rest of the way. Pour sand into the holes surrounding your lower legs. More water, more sand. Now, feel what that does to you. Sit back on your ass, and stretch your arms to the stakes. You will find an open padlock on each chain. Adjust, and lock yourself in.

Dave took a deep breath. Off the hill now, I just waited in the brush for him. His legs below the knee were buried in wet wet sand. He breathed. Hard.

He had two loose leather straps in his hand. Deftly he wrapped one of the straps over his mouth. Then with as much quickness he blinded himself with the other.

My breath grew short. Just watching him. What is going through his mind, he would come out here in the middle of nowhere to do these things to himself? I had not touched him, and yet I could smell him. In the arid heat the smell of his body- and his sex- hung and warmed in the air. I could almost taste him.

Then he reclined and put each hand as far as it would go. He snapped the lock on each of them. He was now displayed before the gods to do with him what they wished.

Were I not right there a coyote may have come and licked him up nice. That, or bitten off his juicy parts.

For an hour, maybe two, I watched him twist and struggle. Every twitch, every breath, was delicious to me. I would leave him forever to it, but I may very well expire in rapture if I did.

So, just as he committed when he snapped the last lock, not knowing if there were any out for him, so was I, now entering the river bed, committed to following this out.

I approached cautiously.

At the time, he was in a bit of a frenzy, struggling to free himself from the stakes. He pulled and tugged. I think he locked himself a bit too tightly. His struggles masked what noise I made approaching him. By now the sun was high in the afternoon air. The shadows were about to grow long, There was enough to cast shadow on Dave, though. I saw my shadow on his struggling body. From my back pocket I produced a magniying glass. I could not help but smirk at what I was about to do.

To Dave, they were but shadows. Lighter than air upon his skin. His attentiion was more on his wrists. So the passing of the glass in my hand did not garner any concern. However, as I focused the lens so a point on his thigh, he felt it then.

I did not want to injure Dave, so I had to be deft in my working. I had practiced enough on myself. The burns would not be too strong, but they were burns nonetheless. Even with my practice, the air was filled almost immediately as Dave struggled when he felt the burn. Even with the stgruggling, his thighs were relatively motionless as buried as they were. Enough so that I could burn my mark into his thigh.

To my surprise, he actually came during the ordeal. I almost flubbed my mark on his tender thigh.

After I was done, I considered touching him. There was no blood, just his drying cum reaching almost to his chin. The seared flesh was now swelling, but on that thigh it still looked hot. And there I was, on my knees before him, watching him struggle and cry. I got off my knees. The sun was now going down, and I was tired.

Dave was not going anywhere. His muffled screams and cries were not answered.

Back in my house I pulled the covers over my naked body and hoped nothing would eat Dave tonight. I’ll be digging him out at dawn.



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