The following is a work of total fiction and intended solely for consumption by those legally of age and where ADULT MATERIAL is permitted. Strong subject matter is contained and is for those not easily offended by such. Any reuse of the material without the author's express consent is strongly discouraged. Thank you and enjoy. Faibhar Dawn's CROSS Country "You wanna get that?" "No, mistress. I think i'll just let it ring," Dawn said to Suzanne as they passed mid-span across the Golden Gate. She closed her eyes and smiled. The small cell phone Suzanne slipped between her parted sex when they passed through the toll booth was set to alert its owner of incoming calls by the vibrating mode. Before leaning her right knee against the limo black passenger side window and resting her bare foot on the padded dash, Dawn had watched Suzanne dial the number from another cell phone. That's when the vibrations inside her began. Her other foot lightly rested atop Suzanne's hiking boot, toes digging into the mock leather. "I've got something else in here for you pet." Dawn didn't open her eyes, but instead said, "Thank you mistress." Suzanne waited for the distinct pop, and then extricated the cigarette lighter placed next to the heater controls on the car. She didn't have to take her eyes from the road to see her slave's long legs opened. With grim satisfaction she pressed the glowing tip of the lighter. She knew just where it should go. The lighter t met the curved metal of the tiny ring piercing her pet's pussy. "Feel that?" Lines crinkled her smooth complexion as the heat grew. Dawn peeked once, but then immediately closed her eyes and rested the back of her head against the seat. Rictus bared her teeth. She sucked in her lower lip, but slowly rolled her head from side to side and said, "Please mistress...more." Suzanne plugged the cooled lighter back into its socket and stole her eyes from the road to curvy halter-top adorning her hot slave. She smiled as her vision returned to the freeway ahead. Her fingers reached over and slipped one thin strap off the buffed shoulder. "Pull on your shorts and open that gate." Dawn opened her eyes for the first time since they left the city. They were stopped on a country road. She shook her head to try and clear it and looked around. They seemed to be somewhere in Northwest Marin judging by the lack of houses and rolling pasture lands. Rectangular and diagonal bars immediately in front of them barred their progress. Cows appeared in the distance as she pulled up her shorts and opened the passenger door. Dawn sat up straighter in the seat as they jolted along the rutted road once passed the gate, but soon stopped at another one. Her heart beat faster in anticipation. She did the same as before and climbed back in as Suzanne shifted gears and the SUV slowly moved forward. "The others will join us soon enough. Get out." The wet mud squished between her toes as she stepped once more from the car and she almost lost her balance. In the distance Dawn could hear surf. She straightened her shoulder straps and hugged her bare midriff. A sea breeze chilled but was not cold. Still, Dawn wished that she was allowed to wear something else, but Suzanne had instructed her to wear and pack the barest necessities. She shivered as her fingers felt the gooseflesh. They walked from the parked car around a small hill. Several others stood under a spreading tree. Dawn counted three men and one woman. As she and Suzanne got closer, Dawn recognized them from Klub Knoir. The woman was the severe blonde with the flowing hair and she wore some kind of warrior costume. The others looked fairly normal except for the one wearing the black mask. He must be the one who wore the bizarre face mask she remembered from that night at the club. Dawn tugged at Suzanne's sleeve and asked where the rest but her mistress said that this was all that was coming and she should mind her manners by holding her tongue. The blonde really gave her attitude Dawn thought as they joined the others. Her face menaced. It all went with the warrior look, probably some kind of method acting where it was important to show a game face. The woman looked like some cast member from the TV show Xena. Dawn decided to play along and kept quiet. Suzanne bussed her cheek. Dawn felt her mistress's warmth and wanted to cuddle but did not react. Before she knew what was happening one of the men threw Suzanne a knapsack. The four turned and trudge off toward the ocean leaving just her and the costumed blonde. "You're mine now, sweet cheeks." Dawn's eyes misted. She almost bolted away to follow Suzanne and the others as they rounded another bend and disappeared, but stayed put in obedience to her mistress. She turned and looked up to the severe blonde. Both of them were tall, though the warrior-woman's boots gave her an edge over Dawn in her bare feet. "Don't even think of following them." To emphasize her point she jabbed a finger at Dawn's breastbone. "Follow me over to this tree." Dawn took another look, but Suzanne and the others were gone from sight. Only blue sky, the roar of the distant surf and green hills remained. She stepped after the one with the high boots, amulets and furred bustier. "Drop those shorts." Dawn paused for a second. Long lashes covered her new handler's icy blue eyes. The irises looked almost white and the pupils a pale shade of blue. The glare was still there. Dawn untied the drawstring and slid her nylon shorts over her hips. She let them drop to the ground and stepped out. New contact with fresh air chilled every inch. "Now...bitch, gimme your arms." She swung the single braid behind her head and did as told. The blonde brought rope and cinched each wrist. Dawn watched. She felt especially vulnerable as she was tied. Her mistress no longer was around to protect her. The rope was unlike the cuffs she had worn before. Its coarseness chaffed her skin. Each wrist knot started a separate rope. "You're little slut brain's probably trying to figure why you're here, right?" Actually, the thought had occurred to Dawn. She delighted in Suzanne's suggestion back at the condo that they both take a few days off, and vacation in Tahoe. Just this little detour, she had said, and Dawn readily packed a small bag happy to join her mistress. That now seemed like so long ago, and hanging naked from some tree limb with just the severe blonde for company was hardly her idea of a fun vacation. Ropes over the branch separated her arms and formed them into a deep "Y". Her toes barely scraped the mossy ground. In front of her stood the one she instinctively feared. "Well...I might as well tell you, that is, if you haven't already figured it out. Which I seriously doubt." Cool breezes stirred leaves under the tree. She could still make out the sounds of the surf in the near distance, and even though it was a sunny day, the tree branches mostly shadowed where she hung. The shade made things even cooler. The slap stung and rocked her head. It burned her cheek, but so did her embarrassment. "You like pain, don't you?" The blonde lowered her voice and stepped closer to Dawn. She clawed two fingers between the slave's thighs. "Well, you've come to the right place." She smiled as her fingers felt between the warm pussy lips. "Our private little group today is made up strictly of sadists who want to see you suffer." Dawn twisted her face down and looked into the other's. Her muscles involuntarily twitched. The glare narrowed and gleamed malevolence. "As much as we can, we will create our own little passion play with you as the star. Sound like fun?" Her fingers hooked and slid out, deliberately scraping a fingernail over the slave's clit. She walked away, and when she returned she carried in her hand a barbed whip. "Ever seen one of these?" She made pendulum-like swings of the three lashes near her feet. Fascination held Dawn's focus on the pendulum. Torn wild flowers and grasses flew up each time the whip swung. "This is a scourge. I will use it on you, and although we are far from anyone, I think this will work for now." She yanked back Dawn's hair by pulling the auburn braid. When her mouth opened wide, she popped in the hard-rubber ball. She quickly tied the gag's straps behind the slave's head. "You see, this one leaves marks." "And I want to see those pretty tits of yours." Dawn felt a shoulder strap fall. The blonde wrenched down a pale green cup from her halter. Her boob plopped out. She threw her head back as she felt the blonde's lips suck in her healed, but still inflamed puffy nipple area. "What are these?" She looked closer at the small pink circles dotting the pale flesh. They looked fresh. "Never mind. I'll ask Suzanne later. It's time now to start our play." The front was worse, if that was possible, than her back. Dawn's head reeled. The scourging was a thousand-times worse than any flogger she knew. Her body hung limp. The woman torturing her was mad. Dawn felt skinned alive. It was impossible to hold up her head. Brief respite came thanks to leaning against an upraised shoulder. "Now, now. Time to wake sleepy." The blonde in the warrior's costume lifted up the slave's fallen chin and wiped her face. She removed the ball gag. The slave croaked a groan as her head fell back. Dawn's arms felt like concrete as they were lowered. She was vaguely aware of the blonde holding her up under her arm. She let one arm be guided into the long sleeve of a thin white robe. Its hem fell below her knees, and she stood as the blonde cinched the robe's belt around her waist. "I brought along something else for you to wear, though I suppose you should first kneel." Dawn's shaking legs folded. Her knees sunk into the muddy earth. She braced herself with her hands in the mud. More clarity returned and when it did, Dawn kneeled up. The blonde no longer held the scourge, but was coming back towards her gingerly carrying a thorny crown in both hands. "This, and that long piece of wood over there is for you." Walking back up to the kneeling slave was easy. Her lips pressed into a thin smile. Already stains were showing in the robe where the bitch had been lashed. And this was just the beginning. She held the handicraft with all of the woven briars over the kneeling slave's head and slammed it down. Dawn's voice tried to scream again as her scalp was cut. She lurched forward, but was held up by the blonde. Another force stunned her head, this time harder. Her face lunged forward. She felt hot streams beginning to flow down her cheeks. Her eyes stung as more streams flowed. Between blinks claret spots appeared on the white robe. "Now that's done, cummon. Let's get you under that beam." She pulled one of the ropes still attached to the slave, bringing her to her feet. "Over here." Its weight bent Dawn forward at her waist. She nearly fell, but the blonde held her up until she staggered forward on her own. The ropes tied her arms around the wood. Two other long ropes were fetched. Dawn detachedly watched the slip knots placed around the base of each breast. Her body swelled two balloons under the thin robe. She could see the darker colors of her swollen nipples through the light material. Ropes knotted around her tightened. Her torso jerked up. The blonde made the leashes and was determined to pull her along the trail by her tits. "Ready? Good. Let's go." Phillip, one of the select group picnicking on the grassy headlands overlooking the Pacific was the designated cameraman. He reached for the digital videocam in his knapsack when the two were spotted rounding a bend on the same cattle trail earlier used. In the small viewfinder he composed the blonde leading a bedraggled slave. The composition of a blonde female warrior tugging along a tortured female slave bearing a crossbeam by leashes attached to her tits Phillip knew was priceless. Dawn's overloaded senses tried to make sense of the scene. Ocean sounds seemed much closer. The others, including Suzanne, all now wore ancient costumes. They looked like what she studied in school whenever Romans or Greeks from long ago came up. Someone lifted the beam off of her shoulders. Relieved of its weight, she almost fell. The toga party looked like it was having a picnic on the grass. Two of the men took the bloodied beam over to a much longer piece of wood. They hammered the two together to form a Roman cross. Pounding noises from their work mixed with sounds of the surf and seagulls bleating overhead. "It appears that is Showtime, my dear." Dawn swung her head in the direction of the smooth masculine voice. It came from the master with the black mask. He now wore a purple toga and stood close to her side. Beyond him, she made out the cameraman, and beyond him, Suzanne . The blonde had disappeared. Dawn stood bemused as she saw Suzanne smile and blow an air kiss her way. She did not know how her friend could watch her suffer so and yet seem so unconcerned. Hands distracted her as they tore off the soiled robe. She tried to scream, but little sound came from her throat as scabbed scourges were opened. Dawn fell to her knees and sobbed. The master watched as two of the men dragged the slave backwards toward the cross. They laid her on the wood, arms outstretched. A look of satisfaction covered his face. Through the slits in the mask, he saw that the slave had been thoroughly scourged. The blonde must have thoroughly enjoyed her role, he mused. He stepped forward toward the men and the cross. "Here you go. I had to locate spikes as the nails they make nowadays are too thin." He handed the men the spikes and watched the first placed into the upturn wrist. Suzanne sat on the small rock and grimaced as she watched Dawn's torso jerk upward and her back arch. The croaking cry she heard made her reach for another glass of Merlot. She emptied the glass in one gulp, as the body jerked up again as if trying to get free. "This sort of thing takes a stiff drink sometimes..." Suzanne looked up into the face of the blonde. Even given the brief warrior-girl costume, the stranger's body felt warm as it sat alongside. Her new friend poured from a flask into the glass she held. Suzanne took a sip. The vodka burned her throat. Her eyes glistened. She looked back to where the men were moving to Dawn's other wrist, and then back at the blonde. This close, Suzanne realized that she was very pretty. Suzanne absently ran fingers through her hair as Dawn croaked out more cries a few yards away. Phillip was able to record all of the action on his camera. He zoomed in as the cross was raised and the men hammered what looked to be a larger spike into the slave's feet. He captured a close-up of her face in agony, tilted down across her lacerated breasts, starkly imaged ribs, sunken belly, shaven pussy and flexing thighs-all the way back down to her nailed feet, placed one atop the other. In a loud voice so that all could hear, the master held up a large swab. Suzanne giggled at the sight of the master with his fancy toga and now wearing protective yellow rubber gloves with olive green gas mask as he held up the cloth. The man was mixing too many costume periods she thought. Where were the Fashion Police when you really needed them? Suzanne held out her glass for a refill from the blonde. "The caustic soda solution used before did enflame the slaves nipples, as you can see...but this," he said as the masked master inspected the cloth held by his yellow rubber glove, "Is much stronger. Less diluted than before. Truly corrosive!" Suzanne shook her head as she took another sip of the vodka. No matter how kinky the master got, he would always keep his day job as chemical engineer. She winced and looked away as she saw him move his yellow glove with the soaked cloth and slip it up between Dawn's thighs. That's got to hurt, she thought, and felt her own pussy tighten. Dawn cried out, but only a ragged hoarseness now came from her throat as she sank another time. To breathe she had to press down on her nailed feet until she could raise up and gasp a sample of the crisp salt air. The last one seemed impossible but knew she had to do, or else. She now hung by her wrists. Dawn sobbed, though no tears came. Chemicals churned like molten lava and continued to destroy her insides. Weakened eyes saw some movement of the others. They had picnicked and partied as she hung, then napped, but now were unfolding and erecting tents. Looking out to the setting sun from her place on the cross, Dawn saw lanterns lit inside of the tents. She saw Suzanne arm-in-arm with the blonde giddily wave. The two ducked into one of the tents. Dawn grimaced as more pains attacked her insides. That night Dawn watched the two silhouettes inside the tent she saw Suzanne enter. She recognized one shape as her mistress. The other she knew all too well. The shapes moved as lovers on the sloping side of the tent. Much later, billowing midnight coastal fog swirled around the isolated campsite, the fog a damp witness as the final light extinguished and died. Waves washing to shore once more proved their unending supremacy over the relatively short-lived humans. The End
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