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A WALK IN THE WOODS [ part 1 ] It was a hot morning; sweat ran down my spine under my shirt as I walked in the old woods behind our house. “Our house being an ancient chateau in the wooded hills of Avilla in southern France. A stand of great oak trees was the pride of our estate here. Legend had it the first oak tree had sprouted when my Viking ancestor built the tower that stood in the center of the great wood that grew up around the hill he built it on. And when either lineage finally disappears so will the other. Stewardship of the oaks has always been assigned to the eldest son in every generation. Long ago some fools whispered we actually were druids and sacrificed virgins to the trees. First of all, we are Catholics, as there are a Bishop or two in our family a few generations back and second, why waste a virgin on a tree when you could have her for yourself? I had walked halfway through the great expanse and into the expanse of grass that surrounded the bare rocky hill, my ancestor had built his first tower on. All that remained was a circle of rough-hewn stones, at least a metre high running around its flat peak. And then I spotted her. Pink flesh against the dark gray of the mighty oaks. A lithe young nude female body in a forest reserved for males. She hung by her wrists secured by course ropes from an old, half-rotten log that had been secured horizontally to bridge the gap between to ancient oak trees. Her thin legs spread wide by more of the same ropes wrapped around her thin ankles, running out to where they were attached to large wooden pegs hammered into the grass. She had a very pretty face, budding breasts and stiff dark nipples. Her stomach was dead flat and her ribs protruded slightly, probably from the vertical racking of her underfed body. As I approached, I could hear her groaning and pleading in a language I did not understand. It was no western tong as I spoke all of those fluently. Her long ass length raven black hair moved across her well-switched back as she discerned my approach. But as I walked around her tortured little body, I saw a leather blindfold covered her eyes. The punishment device held firmly between her teeth, its long leather thongs hang down at least three feet. Whoever had flogged her was both very good and well practiced. I reached up and removed the flogger from her mouth, and she moaned delightfully. I flicked it back and forth in front of her, and the sounds of it cutting the air made her gasp. It was very supple, of soft doeskin and crafted by a master whip maker. No one was around; no one had followed me. No one knew were I was as I had simply walked away from it all to have a little quiet time on my own. So I drew my arm back and struck her almost flat chest, then worked my way down her preteen body, walking in a circle, not missing an inch of her body as it hung before me. She cried, screamed and finally just fainted away. “Did you find your birthday present were I ordered it left for you” My father inquired as I sat down for supper. ”And was its condition and arrangement to your liking?” “Yes father” I replied. “Did it please you” He continued. “It certainly did” I answered. “Are you going to keep it?” He finally asked as the maid laid out desert in front of me. “I haven’t decided” I replied. “If I go out and retrieve it tomorrow, I will keep it” And if you do not” He asked. “You can leave it there” I replied. “As it is of no further use to me, but our oaks might find a use for it” |