Bright morning sun filters through multicolored leaves as they glide to earth from their high perches. Fall in the Ozarks is otherworldly, the vibrant shades of emerald and hunter meld into russet, marigold , and Auburn. The melting heat and cloying humidity give way to crisp clear skies that smell faintly of earth and campfire. Pausing to wipe sweat from my brow, I observe the clearing I’ve just come to. The buffalo river sits 100 yards to the south, beyond a stand of pine and juniper. An aged campfire from the previous occupants makes my decision. Camp will be here.
Unbuckling and easing off my pack, I begin plotting the afternoon, set up camp, kindling, fish for dinner, maybe a quick dip in the river before the day cools too much. He is somewhere behind me, my excitement to be outside always gives way to a lead, while he takes his time; methodical, observing, meditating. Listening for footfalls approaching, although I’m quite certain he’s at least a 1/4 mile behind, I begin removing gear. As my hands brush the coil of blue nylon rope for emergencies, a smile spreads across my face. My thoughts immediately shift from setting up the tent to other pursuits.
Deciding my course, I hastily strip down to my underwear, replace my socks and boots, and neatly fold my clothing and very obviously leave them in a tidy pile on a boulder near my pack. I then choose my hiding spot. Close enough I can hear him approach and not too far off trail for safety. I settle on a little dome in the sandstone bluff, with baby pines in front of it. Hunkering down, I settle in, then realize , I forgot to hide the rope. Just as I’m about to make a break for it, I hear hiking boots crunch leaves. Dammit! his quick intake of breath is audible as he spots my clothing, and I can almost see his smirk as he slowly makes a circle, sharp eyes searching for now prey. I try to see through my hiding spot, but in looking for cover, realized I’ve blinded myself to the jungle cat now hunting me. This fact is too much, and I let out a small snicker, a mistake ’ll pay for later
. I hear him rummaging through gear, humming a song I don’t know, and the sound of rope being manipulated. Wishing I could see, I sit there, anticipation making me restless. Then silence , complete silence. After a few moments i decide he’s trying to get me to give up , and is probably journaling, just to mess with me. I can wait him out . I lean back against the rock, close my eyes, and sleepily wait. I’m jolted to reality by instinct, open my eyes to see a pair very familiar long legs in front of me. I go to scramble to my feet and in a blink he’s on his knees beside me, hazel eyes downcast, hands already wrapping my own in a preprepared coil of blue. Double Damn.
He hauls me to my feet by the slack wrapped loosely around his forearm, turns and begins walking toward a camp, which I see has been set up during my nap. Not saying a word, not meeting my eyes, he walks me toward a large hickory that now has a yet more rope near the base , and a length strung over a high branch sitting suspiciously near a horizontal branch the height of a table.
Oh I know where this is going, and impulsively rear back with all my strenghth. He didn’t have a tight grip on the rope, as usually I am very well behaved and obedient, and I see the shock on his handsome face morph into a smile he can’t hide, for a split second , as i turn to run. I make it two steps, while simultaneously gathering lose rope frantically in my hands before I feel a yank on my binds that jerks me back a step.
Sighing. I turn around to see the far end of rope under a booted foot. He plucks it from the ground, and wraps it very firmly and methodically around his forearm, again, and again, until he’s directly in front me, so close my bare breasts are brushing his t shirt, and I feel his erection against my belly. My nipples pebble, and I feel a rush of dampness between my thighs as his other hand grasps my chin between thumb and forefinger a hard yet gentle grip, bringing my gaze to his. I watch laughing hazel eyes fill with heat , betraying a stern expression, before he simply states , “it’s a good thing you like punishment” .
Feb 23, 2020
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Source: reddit.com/r/Erotica/comments/o0zvh6/camping_primalbdsmbrattamer