Story: The Jungle

This is pure fantasy. Not only has this never happened, I doubt I’d even want it in real life. So fantasy it must remain.

A bead of perspiration traced down my temple as we trudged up the narrow path. Plants on either side brushed against my hips and legs. The air was heavy with moisture. The exposed dirt of the winding trail was firm, but not rough. I felt tired and thirsty, yet I had no desire to stop.

We had been walking for a long time. You seemed to know our destination and how best to reach it. I trusted you. I had little choice. Each time my confidence flagged and my pace slowed, you reassured and reinvigorated me with a quick strike from the short whip that hung from your belt. Somehow, the pain made this excursion all right.

Many sounds surrounded us as we walked on. I heard a thousand birds overhead and all around us. Their calls blended to create a continuous chatter. I heard small animals scurrying in the underbrush beside me. I heard my feet fall one after the other upon the bare dirt. The buzzing of insects was so ubiquitous as to become part of the backdrop for this aural landscape.

I knew what would happen. Not how nor where, but what and why. I knew and I accepted my fate. I openly acknowledged, if only to myself, that I deserved all I would soon receive. Without a word spoken, on we walked.

My hands being unavailable, I directed a concentrated breath of air downward in hopes of removing an insect from my left breast. You encouraged me to continue moving forward by flicking the whip briskly across my bottom.

Finally, we came to a clearing. It was an area that was roughly thirty feet square. There were no trees and the ground was almost entirely bare. Immediately upon entering the clearing, I felt the intense heat of the direct tropical sun. It was then I spotted four sturdy stakes driven into the earth.

Taking hold of my bound wrists, you led me to the center of the clearing. Once there, you freed me from the white cotton rope and instructed me to lie on the ground, face down. The dirt was quite hot and it felt like lying on a griddle. Still I complied. You placed four red kerchiefs around my wrists and ankles. Next, you tied stiff, scratchy hemp ropes to each my limbs and secured them to the four stakes. I was now completely at your mercy as never before.

Rather than cruelty, though, you showed me kindness. You knelt to permit me a drink from your canteen. You stroked my hair and spoke to me. You told me that you loved me deeply, more than anything in the world in fact. You explained that all the events that would follow were a demonstration of that love and adoration. With that, you stood again.

Bound as I was, I could no longer see you behind me. What I felt, though, was your unmistakable calling card. The whip snapped hard against the bare flesh of my bottom. It burned with a searing heat far warmer than the ground beneath me. Again, the pain and the heat struck nearby. By the third hit, I was pulling against the ropes in a futile attempt to escape. But there would be no escape for me. You ensured that.

Struggle as I might, my fate was sealed. As the lashes accumulated, I gradually resigned myself to this irrefutable fact. I would be spanked until you were finished with me. While I might not always love the pain, I truly appreciate your ability to carry each session to its ultimate conclusion.

I wept, not from pain or a feeling of utter helplessness, but because of the strength of the bond between us and the intensity of my gratitude for it. When you decided you had completed what must be done, you released my wrists and ankles. I was pleased to be freed from the discomfort of the ropes. You helped me to my feet and then took me lovingly into your arms. I melted within your embrace. This moment made everything else worthwhile. I was wholly yours.

And yours I shall stay…

Keywords: spanking, spanking story, spanking fiction, bondage, whipping, BDSM