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| Bounty hunters capture female convict: |
| BDSM Stories |
| 2008-02-04 |
THE DREAMSTERS OF MERIDIAN TRACE
Excerpt from Chapter Eight:
MADELINE'S MESSY MARCH
by Gabriella Balboa
D I S C L A I M E R
The following excerpt is the Exclusive Property of EGAD MAGAZINE, and may not
be reproduced or republished in any form: electronic, print, or otherwise,
without written consent from EGAD MAGAZINE.
This following is an excerpt from a larger work that clearly outlines the story
framework as total fantasy, and the general theme as consentual adult behavior.
Any valid review for censorship purposes must peruse the whole work! Although
random excerpts may appear to consider non-consentual themes, within the
context of the larger work-of-fiction, non-consentual situations are presented
only as dreams by consenting adult characters.
The complete work is entirely make-believe, however, and should not be
construed as being an instruction manual for sickos, nor bearing malice toward
any person, gender, race, or institution. Resemblance to any real persons or
institutions is coincidental. All characters in this work-of-fiction are
"Adults".
If you are offended by Adult themes, non consentual themes, B&D, S&M, or
make-believe situations that would be inappropriate in real-life: DO NOT READ
ANY FURTHER!
If you cannot separate fantasy from reality, or can't control your conduct: DO
NOT READ ANY FURTHER! GO GET SOME HELP!
AND DON'T READ ANY MAIN-STREAM FICTION; DON'T WATCH TELEVISION, AND
ESPECIALLY..., AVOID ROAD-RUNNER CARTOONS!
For those into this genre of fiction,...
...ENJOY!
THE DREAMSTERS OF MERIDIAN TRACE
Excerpt from Chapter eight:
MADELINE'S MESSY MARCH
by Gabriella Balboa
Prologue:
Madeline, a convicted felon in the 23rd century had been captured by a pair of
bounty hunters on Planet Swamplando. She was being taken to a safe place, until
negotiations with the Oophmyron Prison could be completed.
-1-
Monroe periodically jabbed his rifle into the nape of the striding woman's
neck. This served as a reminder that her current pace should not be relaxed. It
seemed to work quite well. The molasses-like muck may have prevented her from
trotting, but then again, her pace wasn't lagging either!
Planet Swamplando was particularly steamy this time of year: the kind of
pungent heat that could cause an egg to poach if you just stared at it long
enough. It was sufficient to render all parties sopping-wet with perspiration.
Madeline Montague's silk dress clung to her voluptuous body like slop to a pig.
As in the case of a wet-T-shirt champion, little of her charms were left to the
imagination.
Glistening sweat caused Monroe and his brother to resemble oiled body-builders.
Decked out as they were in hiking boots, cutoffs, and buckskin gloves, their
appearance was all bare-chested and rippling muscles. A pair of dingy outback
hats clearly typecasted the duo as Crocodile Dundee wanna-bees.
"Keep moving Luv!", Monroe sniggered, as he repeatedly butted the back of the
convict's head. "I can tell from the sorry gyrations of your caboose, that a
breather would be welcome. Don't fret,......it won't be long now. Just another
five or six miles."
Madeline repeatedly jerked at the handcuffs pinioning her wrists behind her
torso. Her bare feet sloshed in and out of the ankle-deep mud as she staggered
forth with fatigue redoubling by the minute. Although this terrain might have
provided ideal exercise for a training-camp fullback: to an alabaster-skinned
socialite, who demanded her pedicures be gentle and precise, it was unrelenting
hell.
Madeline's shoes had been lost at the point of her caravan's ambush.
The Swamplandoan scoundrels had then peeled off her pantyhose, ripped the
leggings in two, and reapplied the garment in a most uncouth fashion: one half
was wadded up and stuffed within her gaping mouth; the other ruthlessly cinched
around her jowls.
She was presently being taken to a safe place : somewhere she could be securely
detained until her bounty payment was transmitted to a secret account.
"I bet you can't wait to get out of that slimy gown, Luv!", Denis looked over
his shoulder to tell her. "In all honesty, neither can I! Ha! Ho! Hee Hee Ho!"
-2-
"Get down on your knees and spread 'em, Pet. We're going to help you get a lot
more comfortable now!"
Monroe delivered the command matter-of-factly. He tapped his Winchester
directly against the captured woman's forehead for emphases.
Her tearful eyes rolled skyward as she dropped to straddled knees and slowly
settled in the oozing mud.
With mouth clogged by pantyhose, her flared nostrils snorted like a bulldog in
heat. Her big tits heaved and rolled, creaking her bra-clasp one notch closer
to failure.
The demeanor she assumed was unmistakably contrite, leaving no doubt regarding
her current emotional status. While wallowing in the muck before two grinning
brutes, her sweat-glossed body quaked in shameless freight.
Denis looked over from where he'd been boxing Madeline's just-removed dress.
Having been through this drill many times before, he simply smiled in
anticipation of what lay ahead.
During the arduous march to their secret destination, the prisoner would slowly
be stripped naked.
First the outer garments would go; then her underwear. By the time they'd
arrive at the cesspool, the bird would be as naked as the day she was born.
She would display only two accessories: a harness on her arms and a gag jacking
her jaws.
Somewhere along the way, reasons to apply corporal punishment would arise.
Although they had no intention of torturing her after their bounty had been
collected, it was unlikely their whips would go unused for too much longer. The
chance of any female escaping this ordeal without a web-work of lash marks, was
about as likely as Wilt Chamberlain winning a Wally Cox look-alike contest!
Denis stopped day-dreaming. He unsheathed a razor edged hunting knife and
approached the weeping female.
"OK Moe, I think it's time to find out if this Pet's floppers are the real
deal. Would you get a load of the size of that boob-halter! Do you think it's
possible?"
"They look genuine to me", the rifleman replied, "judging by the way they're
droopin' and all! Tell us Mrs. Montague, are them titties authentic?"
Monroe's inquiry was punctuated with a cocked-bolt snap of his carbine.
Madeline just whimpered and began to pee down her thighs. She assumed an
adorable cross-eyed bearing as her baby-blues tracked along the rifle's length.
She was trembling so fitfully, that her control of bodily functions began to
unwind faster then a descending yo-yo.
Smiling broadly, Denis slipped his blade between her quivering face and the
cinched legging. In a wrist-snapping instant, her mouth was liberated from the
nylon gag. He then pirouetted the dagger under Madeline's chin, levering her
neck into a bent-back arch. Her huge titties assumed a jutted and wobbling
carriage, so magnificent in scope, that her bra's fate stood as predictable as
a two-headed coin toss.
"Well,....are they Luv", Denis reprised?
The cool pressure of blue-steel sparked Madeline's terse response. Her answer
was halting and barely audible.
"Y-Y-Yes-ssss.....t-th-they're r-r e e e e e e a a l !"
"That's what I thought, Pet," Monroe proudly exclaimed. "Tell me though,
exactly how big is that tit-hammock?"
"F-F-Fo-Forty t-wo d-d-double D-D e e e e ....O O O O E EEEEEE ! "
Denis's knife had snagged the fabric between the jumbo cups. As he sliced
upward, the sweat-soaked foundation garment parted faster then a fool and his
money. It twanged like a slingshot as the powerful thrust of Madeline's
knockers launched it from her broad shouldered frame.
Now revealed in all their drooping glory, the kneeling woman's boobs were the
stuff of Russ Meyer dreams.
"My God", Monroe blurted aloud!
"I don't believe me bleedin' eyes", stammered Denis, "I knew those floppers
were big, but this is absolutely outrageous! I'll tell you mate, this calls for
exchanging those handcuffs for a proper harness! Immediately! Not to mention an
entirely different game-plan when we eventually get to tucking her in the pool
tonight!"
"I hear what you're saying Den, and you'll be getting no argument from this
end. OK Luv, congratulations on having the biggest tits this swamp has ever
seen. After you finish emptying your bladder, we'll get you up on your feet and
test how bodaciously they jiggle. Then I'd like to get a peak at the rest of
the package!"
PISSSSSS S S S S S S S S S S S-S S S S S S S S S!!
Any Mortification the wife weathered, while kneeling bare-breasted and
urinating in her underpants, was about to be soundly dwarfed by rest of the
day's agenda.
-3-
Madeline's handcuffs were removed. She was strapped into a harness that bound
her arms wrist-to-elbow behind her spine. The apparatus nearly dislocated her
shoulders, jutting her big tits well past the scope of astounding; nudging her
uncouth posture clear off the lewdness scale.
She'd then been jerked to her feet.
The sagged elegance of her heavy udders was studied from all angles.
Denis made a big deal about how her crinkly aureoles were as wide as his
chewing-tobacco tin, even going so far as to unscrew the lid and directly
measure the pink circles.
As a postscript, he stuffed Madeline's mouth with a quadruple pinchful of the
chew; then admonished her to refrain from spitting it out until so instructed.
Monroe then sliced her pee-soaked panties to floating ribbons.
Her head reeled as she staggered tit-jutted and stark naked before the two
scoundrels.
She had then been compelled to vulgarly jog-in-place.
The boys admired the ungainly trajectories of her flopping udders with barely
contained glee.
Madeline's bare feet miserably squish-squashed in the slimy bog. Warm muck
oozed between her toes with each ankle miring lurch. Her gnashed-tooth visage
was as pathetic as any sadist could have hoped for, precisely reflecting the
multitude of relentless insults: overpowering exhaustion, burning humiliation,
and the unbridled revulsion of jowls ballooned with snuff.
The shock waves imparted by her careening boob-flesh didn't help one bit
either.
"Man, look at those big tits lunge", Denis exclaimed! "I think I can feel the
bloody ground shake!"
"I wouldn't bet against someone's earthquake-detector registering a tremor
right now", Monroe offered in a scientific fashion. "Come on Luv, let's give
the seismologists a scare! Get those knees moving higher and faster. I want to
see those big cones really go into orbit!"
For a woman who was a paragon of high society; a model of social grace, this
treatment whacked Madeline's sensibility like a round-house punch to the
kisser.
Now mud-streaked and glossed with sweat, her nude body performed a
high-stepping jitterbug that was as sordid as any of Dante's visions.
Her tits launched into a soaring and plunging flight-path, jolting her
shoulders and smacking her ribs; generating a delightful mix of doleful grunts
and heaving slaps. Tobacco slime pathetically drooled over her thrusted chin.
The brown slop cascaded downward, traversing her sweat-slippery cleavage faster
then a dropped stone. It rolled southward across her belly; then was
intercepted by an auburn bush that poked as thick as a beaver's nest.
Her bare feet flashed rapid-fire as each knee furiously lurched to chest
height; then plunged shakily in reverse. Her gams churned like a pair of
pistons, alternating the honor of high-kicking with ankle-deep burrowing.
As Monroe unscrewed a jar of itching powder, his eyes never wavered from the
wife's undulating figure. The dreamy look on his mug foretold that his plans
didn't bode well for the girl.
Denis read his brother's face as easily as a four-inch headline. He smugly
grinned as he oiled a pair of weathered barber straps.
Madeline was slated to continue the wanton dance until exhaustion would
grudgingly prevail. Her act would only be concluded with a belly-flopped splat
in the muck.
An ample supply of smelling salts was on hand to revive the bird. The boys
would then compel her to try harder next time.
-4-
The brothers rudely strung her up as soon as they'd made the next rest stop: a
tiny clearing three miles from their destination.
Monroe employed his rifle to signal their halt. He simply pressed it downward
on the wife's left shoulder.
Madeline's boobs jiggled ponderously as she sank to a kneeling posture.
Her fat nipples stood brightly inflamed: courtesy of having been liberally
smeared with itching compound. Delightful twitches danced along her buttocks
and thighs, suggesting that the prickly substance had been gooped in other
areas as well.
Denis undid Madeline's tightly wound bun, unfurling her lush strawberry mane
with loving care. Both scoundrels then worked synchronously to kick off the
latest episode of her nightmare.
They wove her abundant locks into four thick braids, all arising from her
noggin in a square configuration.
A handful of steel hoops was securely incorporated within the weave.
Ropes followed, along with a series of loops and complex knots.
The main coil of rope was then hurled over a stout Cypress branch. As the boys
reeled in the slack, the convict wife was unceremoniously dragged to her
tippy-toes: assuming a stark naked, tit joggling; heels off the ground bearing.
Her arms lurched helplessly behind her torso.
" P P P L E EEE AASSOHMMMPPPHHHH H ! "
As Monroe steadied Madeline's skull, Denis had violated her mouth with a rubber
sphere the size of a baseball.
He brusquely smacked it in place with the heel of his palm.
A lock-jaw victim couldn't have looked more conclusively wide-mouthed.
Attached bridle straps were then buckled around the back of her distracted
neck.
Scissors suddenly flashed before her face as a male hand began stroking her
pubic hair.
"This has got to go, Luv", Denis told her. "Every bit of it! The next time
something dribbles down your belly, be it sweat, or drool, or even puke,.....
...we want to see it drip-drop from a pair of baby-smooth pubes."
Madeline's nude frame jolted deliriously. Her roped mane twanged like a
stand-up bass. The scalp-ripping note was accompanied by an unpolished fit: one
that was replete with rolling eyeballs, white-knuckled spasm, and deranged
moans.
" N N N MMMGGGGH H H HUUUGG AH H H H ! ! "
Maybe it was reflexive. Perhaps it had been instinctive. It might even have
been calculated. Let's face it: an escape-plan conceived in the midst of dire
panic might not be especially rational.
In any event, the poor girl's puny resistance was exactly what the boys had
been waiting for! In the blink-of-an-eye they'd responded by gripping her
bucking body and whirling her backside into the spotlight.
Monroe steadied her trembling hips.
Denis wound up his beefy right arm. He twirled an oiled barber strap like a
lariat, all the while painting an imaginary bulls-eye on the society woman's
big bare cheeks.
CRACK!!!
"MMMNNNNNGGGGGGGGGG HH ! ! "
The sounds of walloped girl-flesh were loud and fierce: leather kisses crisply
echoed; gagged expletives rang barbarically.
"That's one , Pet !", Monroe counted off, as he stepped to Madeline's
front-side and demanded she look at him. "You've been a bad girl, pulling away
from Denis like that. We can't have it! Shaving a honey-pie is a delicate task
you know."
SPLAT!!!
"U U UNNGGNMMM G HHH H H ! ! !"
"Whew! Number two was truly bodacious, Den! Her rutting eyeballs nearly rolled
backward on that one. Stick that big ass out now, Luv! For your information,
they're all going across those ample cheeks of yours!"
WA AA AA L L LOP!!!
"GGAH-AHHH-GGGRRRHHGGG ! ! ! "
"Whoopee! That's three ", Monroe shouted! "God, I love the faces she's
flashing, mate! Oh sooo, sooooo penitent! Look here, Lass, I'd forgive
you,....but it's not me that's wielding the strap!"
S-S-SMAAACK!!!
"AAACHAAHH-GGRGGGHH ! ! !"
"
Four! My god, Den, would you look how furiously her tits are doing the Cha-Cha!
I'm sorry Luv, but before we tuck you in tonight, I'm afraid we might have to
chastise those big floppers a bit. Nothing personal, you know. They're just too
glorious to ignore!"
WH-HHHAAAACK!!!!
"AHH-GGRRUUGGGGRUUGGHH ! ! !"
"Five! Hoo boy...Yes!!!! That one got a bladder-squirt going! She almost got me
on the ankle, mate. If you could see her face, though, you'd forgive her loss
of decorum. She's about as slack-jawed as one can get, and still be considered
coherent. Lash her fiercely now, Den. Push her over the edge! Don't hold
anything back! Really make this Pet's big bottom ignite!"
The Swamplandoans scoundrel did just that; to the tune of twenty ferocious
strokes; all applied with hellfire determination.
As the lesson stampeded toward a conclusion, Madeline's grasp of etiquette grew
increasingly unstable.
-5-
THH-WAAAAWACK!!!
"MMMMNNNNNGGGGGGGGGHH ! ! ! "
The strap's explosion against bare girl-hide ricocheted audaciously.
Madeline's wretched bark, reduced to garbled bluster by her mouth-plug, was
nearly as shrill.
As her feet flailed backward, the naked woman frightfully dangled in mid-air.
Her roped hair bludgeoned the supporting tree branch with a dead-weight
inquiry: would the sagging limb hold up, or was a snapped bough imminent.
WHACK!!
"NNNNGGGGGGGGFFFFFFFF ! ! ! "
Madeline lunged half-insane, catapulted forward by the viscous strapping. Her
toes scrambled the underlying sludge like a Mix-Master. She fought a loosing
battle for proximity with the ground. Another hair-wrenching ride ensued,
furiously ripping at her scalp; leaving her kicking and writhing in rampant
agony.
WALLOP!
" GGGGGAAAAAGGGHHHHH ! ! ! "
The naked woman jutted and rolled everything as the lash filleted her cheeky
bottom for the twentieth time.
Saliva drooled. Sweat spattered. Pee droplets spiraled down her legs. A big
fart brazenly tooted. She exhibited no further shyness; retained no decorum.
Lewd and unbridled best described her tone now. Sophisticated and refined had
gone bye-bye!
The latest stroke drove her head-first into an abysmal fit: one that stood
devoid of elegance and absent of civility.
Madeline bucked on her roped mane with jaws pitched, fingers spastically
clawed, and writhing toes fanned. Her thighs were contracted as stout as oak
trees. Her big-cheeked ass danced furiously.
As the blows abruptly ceased, Madeline's guttural weeping brought outrageous
smiles to the brothers faces.
"Whimper,....Sob,....Sniffle,.....Sob,...Sob, Boo....hoo hoo !!! "
-6-
Denis allowed his weary arm a rest. He let the flesh-warmed strap dangle as he
surveyed the damage.
His barrage of strokes had all been delivered squarely across Madeline's big
ass; all over the course of only three minutes. That averaged out to a stroke
every nine seconds: not nearly enough time for the poor wife to recapture her
wits or steady herself before the next wallop.
As such, she had methodically been driven toward the edge of the envelope.
Everyone has their limits. Madeline's had just been plainly defined.
The lusty Swamplandoans stepped close to her now, placing a hand on her
feverish bottom.
"There there, Luv, get a grip, would you. I didn't even break the skin. Just
warmed you up a bit! These big cheeks can take a good strapping. No problem!
They're bloody built for it! In fact, an ass this brawny could handle a whole
lot more! Even a full caning!"
Denis rotated the hair-suspended girl around. Her toes scampered to keep up,
clawing at the underfoot slop.
When she was eyeball to eyeball, a broad grin crept across his face.
He palmed a ponderous tit, savoring it's squishiness and weight, reveling at
it's resilience: how he could drag it so far from her shuddering chest-wall,
into wildly grotesque shapes, and still it'd spring back to such a delightfully
drooped pose. He raised up the strap and fitted it between her jumbo cones.
"If the Oophmyron Prison doesn’t take you Madie, you'll be getting a lot more
then just a healthy bum thwacking. We can't just let a criminal like you go
free, you know! That'd really spoil our reputation; hurt our business prospects
immensely! No, instead, we'd be forced to sell you to some Slave Cartel in the
third world. And, If that scenario played out, this is where they'll probably
brand you Luv: right between these big soft titties of yours!"
I
n delivering the unsettling punchline, Denis lovingly spanked Madeline's sweaty
cleavage. The snazzy slap of leather against girl-flesh was intoxicating.
He redoubled the grope-job on her left udder; continuing his harangue at full
steam.
"You'll be sold at an open auction; forced to preen fully naked before a
thousand men. They'll have you bound quite like you are now, except that a
spreader-bar will keep your legs hugely straddled. Whomever is curious will be
able to inspect your goods to their heart's content. And, believe me Pet,
there'll be plenty of interested parties. You'll have had a suitable lump of
ginger jammed up your asshole: intended to keep your tail nice and frisky. Your
nipples will have been rubbed-down with an itching compound; they'll be
perpetually thick rosebuds: well pointed and diamond hard."
"And skewered with enough rings to outfit a choir of angles", chimed in Monroe!
"Yes, of course! Didn't I mention the rings", inquired Denis?
"No, you missed it, mate", Monroe answered. "But judging from the scope of that
distraction you're caressing, I can quite understand the oversight!"
"Haw Haw Hee Hee Haw Hee Ho Ha Ha!!! "
"Haw Hee Hee Ho Ha Hee Hee Ho Ha Ha!!! "
End of the excerpt. |
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