A pair of out-of-state tourists, he'd heard, probably just down here on a lark enjoying the last days of summer before school started again in a few weeks.Then I made the dreadful mistake of asking how often Wallace and Steve conducted these little male-bonding or stress-relief exercises, and just how many girls had been brought down here these last three years on one-way visits.I really didn't like the answer at all.I'm the first one to admit that I never think clearly when I'm angry, which is admittedly too much of the time, so I willed myself to breathe slowly and keep my cool, all the meantime while carving off another finger or three to take the edge of my fury off. My captive gunsel cum part-time kidnapper and procurator had informed me in-between screams that 'the party' was being held about a half mile further down a swampy dirt road in a large wood cabin next to the canal. The cabin was very deserted and lonely, out on the edge of the swamp, and with a boat right there for. A solitary finger tantalized my sex, first slowly making its way up the inside of my thigh and then lazily checking the wetness around my opening. I was sure my master would not be disappointed.He then left me there for a few more minutes, my sex wild with frustration, my joints threatening to cramp under their strain, as he finished cleaning. When everything was ready, he finally released the grip around my neck, detaching the chain and allowing me to stand normally. He undid the link tying the two handcuffs together, but left them on.“Remove the rest of your clothes. When you’re done, put on the ones you brought with you.” With as much grace as I could muster, I removed the warm sweater and shirt that had protected me from the freezing weather outside. I then reached into my bag and proceeded to re-clothe my naked body, though to a much lesser extent, with what my master had chosen for me earlier. My new attire consisted of a lacy black bra, covered with a see-through black.
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