Saras Protective Dad part 1 corrected
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Sara’s Surrender, Part 3 – On The Trail free porn video
It was glorious hiking in Banff again, and the weather was in agreement with me. It was warm even now in early morning, with the promise of heat later on; bright, but enough high cloud to avoid dazzling the eye. Yet, despite that, and the Godly scenery all around us, I found my eyes continually straying to the shorts-clad ass of my new submissive, Sara, hiking ahead of me.
This was our third day together – well, second full day – and we were finally out on the trail. My original plan had been to hit the trail yesterday, the day after I had finished my presentation, but then I met Sara. I was absolutely flabbergasted when in about two hours after I had met her, I had been able to bring her to the point of voluntarily stripping naked, masturbating in public, and sucking my cock, outdoors in broad daylight, in a national park.
I had never before experienced a Dominant/submissive relationship that developed as quickly. Sara – my new sub – and I just seemed to click, right from the moment we met. Both of us found the relationship remarkable, sexy as hell, and entirely fulfilling. We both seemed to enjoy the same BDSM things – from opposite sides.
The reason we were a day late in getting on the trail was that I wasted the first afternoon – if “wasted” is the right word – getting to know Sara, and bringing her to the point of committing to being my sub. She had repeatedly vowed that she would do anything I wanted, and I was looking forward to testing her promise. Moreover, she had had the courage early on to call “yellow light”, allowing us to confirm the trust we had to have to enjoy a stable D/s relationship.
But that meant I was not able to prepare properly for the trail the next day, yesterday. So, rather than rush the preparations, which is never a good idea, I postponed our departure – and invested yesterday in sex play with Sara while making additional preparations for doing D/s play on the trail with her.
~~~~~~
When we hurried back from supper that first night after dining in the Vermillion Room, we were both hot as pistols. This was partly due to our extended discussion of the varieties of BDSM play, but especially because, at the end of our supper, she had told me she had somehow neglected to put on any panties.
When we got back to my suite, I had ordered her to strip, then I had used the panties she had “forgotten” to wear to bind her hands behind her, placing one hand through one leg hole, then twisting and wrapping the stretchy material around her wrist, then wrapping the other leg hole around her other wrist. She could get her hands free, but, again, this was more of a psychological restraint than a real one.
I had her kneel beside me while I sat in a chair. Then I had stroked her all over, including her tits, between her knees, and inside her cunt, then forcing my cunt-wetted fingers into her mouth to be licked clean, over and over again. I kept doing this until she looked like she was about to cum, at which point I stopped.
Next, I took her smartphone, and figured out how to throw its images on the suite’s big TV screen. As a result, we repeatedly watched the video I had taken that afternoon of her sucking my cock, and me forcing it down her throat, gagging her. And while we watched, I did my best to bring her right to the edge of cumming – then backing off and denying her, over and over. When the video ended for the fifth time, she was writhing, unable to sit still, and panting hard. She started begging me to let her cum or to let her suck me again.
I refused, and took her to bed, naked, with her hands still bound behind her with her panties so that she couldn’t touch herself during the night. And every time I woke for any reason, I made sure to bring her to the edge of an orgasm all over again – then deny her.
By morning she was a begging, drooling wreck, which was precisely what I wanted.
Of course, it exacted a toll on me, too – I hadn’t cum either, and my cock let me know it wanted to bury itself in her snatch or her mouth. I denied that as well. It’s been my experience that I get particularly creative in my BDSM play when I’m sexually frustrated. I wanted our hikes to be things we would remember for the rest of our lives. We could stand being frustrated for a few hours to achieve that.
Plus, it set us up perfectly for the shopping I wanted to do.
~~~~~~
It started innocently enough at the outfitters, where we had both arranged to rent the necessary equipment for our hikes.
I arranged everything I thought we’d need, even though I had to buy a larger, much lighter tent than the two-man I’d planned on renting. I would have preferred to rent, but they didn’t have one available except for purchase. It was expensive, but it was a remarkable piece of equipment, and worth having in any event.
I also got two lighter sleeping bags with excellent quality synthetic down fill that could zip together rather than one mummy bag with lesser quality fill, plus two closed-cell sleeping mats that could snap together into one, big mat. And I bought the best quality trail food I could get.
But the first really important purchase I made was to buy Sara two pairs of Tilley shorts, shirts, underwear, plus a roll-or-crush straw hat that looked fabulous on her, showcasing her face and eyes. Tilley Endurables are a Canadian brand, and excellent clothing for any kind of travel. And although she looked great in them when she tried them on, she wanted to know why I insisted on buying these for her. I smiled down at her, and said, “You’ll see.”
The hat was simply because she needed a good one. The other stuff had a different purpose.
Then I had some shopping I wanted to do without her, in order to maintain the surprise. So, I turned necessity into a mother, as in motherfucker.
I took her to what seemed like the best adult toy store in the small town of Banff. She was nervous about going in as she'd never been in a sex shop before. I was pretty sure she was embarrassed just to be there, and she seemed to be trying to make herself inconspicuous. I wasn’t going to let that happen.
I got a shopping basket, found the paddles, and told her I wanted her to select the one I would use on her. It had to be lightweight, and not too big, because we were going to have to pack it in and out, plus it had to carry a wallop. She dithered for quite some time, then selected one that was blue, and decorated with sparkles. It also had holes, which made it lighter.
I didn’t tell her that holes made it smack harder. I suspect she thought it would be softer.
Regardless, I put the paddle in the basket, then handed the basket to her.
“I want you to choose a dog collar that you will wear to show you’re my bitch. You’re going to wear it a lot, including in public, so make sure you think that I’ll approve of it, and that it’s reasonably comfortable. And I want you to try it on before you put it in the basket, okay?”
“In…in here? In public?”
I nodded. “In here. In public. Then I want you to look at all the other toys in the store and select those you think I will want to use on you on the trail. And here’s the catch: for every one you miss, I’m going to smack you once with the paddle. And for every one that you select that I don’t want, you get a smack. But for every one you get right, I’ll reduce the smacks by one.”
I grinned at her. “If you don’t understand what these toys do, and how I might want to use them, your bottom is going to be very sore, understand? So, you’re going to have to ask a lot of questions, aren’t you?”
“Y…Yes, Master.” She was looking at the floor, and I could see she was thoroughly embarrassed already. I’d bet she was also very wet.
“Let me give you one piece of advice, though: remember that we are going to have to carry all of these toys in our backpacks, so keep in mind weight and size considerations, okay?”
Her eyes were enormous, but she nodded.
“Good. Now I’ll be back in about an hour, so get started!” And I left.
While she was shopping for toys, I had a different agenda. Bit by bit, store by store, I got what I needed, then returned to the sex toy shop to pick up a submissive.
When I got back to the toy store, she was wearing a blue leather collar of medium width around her neck. It was slightly rounded, like a half-tube, and it had a small lock on the hasp. The lock was not locked, but hung slightly open. She looked flushed and was breathing hard. The blue collar also brought out the blue in her eyes.
“Very nice,” I said, walking up to her. “Which other ones did you consider?” She hesitantly pointed to three others. I picked up a wide, black collar with silver spikes that she had pointed to. “Why did you consider this one?”
She looked down and the floor. “Because it made me wet just to look at it.”
“Did you try it on?”
She nodded.
“Out loud, please.”
“Yes, Master, I tried it on.”
“And…?”
“I almost picked it, but it was awfully heavy. So, I picked this one.”
I threw the heavy black one into the basket. “You’ll wear this on special occasions. But I agree with the one you’ve picked as being suitable and practical. Good girl.”
She looked up at me and gave me an eager smile. “Thank you, Master!”
I rummaged through the basket, discarding items I either had no interest in, or that I thought would be not worth carrying, counting items as I went.
“Okay, Little Slut, so far you’re up two, which means you wouldn’t be getting any swats. Except there are a number of things I want that aren’t in here. But let me keep my secrets for now. Go stand in the window by that bondage manikin. Don’t move. Make people think you’re another manikin.
“Oh, and hold this and stare at it. Got it?” And I handed her an enormous jelly, purple dildo.
She blushed deep red, but nodded, and hesitantly moved to stand next to the leather fetish manikin. Her tight t-shirt made it obvious she wasn’t wearing a bra, and that, plus her cut-off denim shorts, long legs, big, blue eyes, and the blue dog collar around her neck, got her plenty of stares from passersby.
I wandered around, picking up the balance of things I thought we might want, counted the number of additions, then called Sara back to me. She almost jumped to get away from the window, and I saw four, twenty-something guys laughing to each other on the other side of the glass.
“Okay, I’ve added nine additional items, which means you get seven swats with the paddle when the time comes. Are you okay with that?”
Her eyes got bigger, but she nodded.
“Okay, let’s go.”
We walked to the check-out, and I handed the basket and my credit card to her. “Here, you pay for these. Hand them to the nice gentleman at the check-out, one by one, and let him ring them up.” I stepped back and let her handle the transaction…and the merchandise.
She looked up sharply at me, anguish in her eyes, then gulped, and nervously stepped forward to the cash register, face flushed – and nipples poking hard at her t-shirt.
~~~~~
The rest of the preparations were pretty routine. We had an early supper out on the patio where we first met. It was a bit breezy, which was fun because I made her wear her collar, locked, her short skirt and a loose blouse, untucked and mostly unbuttoned, and nothing else. Plus, I told her she couldn’t hold them down.
That resulted in a few people getting an eyeful, and Sara eating not that much. But I enjoyed it.
Then we went back to the room and watched a full-length porn movie. Sara was naked, of course, except for the black, studded collar, which forced her to keep her head up. She was kneeling up on the bed, with her knees apart, with her panties binding her hands behind her again, and I alternated playing with either her clit or massaging her G-spot. Whenever the heroine pretended to have an orgasm, I switched. And whenever the heroine wasn’t being used, sexually, such as for the so-called dialog, I stopped.
If Sara seemed to be getting close to cumming, I stopped completely anyway and set a timer for five minutes. I kept this up until she was crying and begging me to let her cum. Then I pulled a ball gag out of our shopping, stopped her mouth with it, then started the video again.
By the end of the video, Sara was drooling around the ball-gag, and had tears running down her cheeks, and snot running down her nose, dripping onto her tits. I gently removed the gag, then helped her blow her nose, and cleaned her face.
I unbound her hands, and told her to get cleaned up and ready for bed.
She still had tears dripping down her cheeks, but nodded, and headed for the bathroom.
“Oh, and Sara…”
She turned back. “Leave the door open. I don’t want you to be tempted into touching yourself without my permission, right?”
From the look on her face, I knew she had been debating the idea. I really didn’t want to have to punish her, so removed the temptation. She blushed, then went into the bathroom, started to close the door by reflex, then stopped, opened it again, and hesitantly sat on the toilet.
“Hands on top of your head, please, until you’re done,” I commented, and when she did, I turned away.
~~~~~
She spent an uncomfortable night, even though I allowed her to sleep without her collar. I brought her close to climax several times during the night, but refused to let her either cum, or to beg to be allowed.
When we got up at six the next morning, she looked tired. I put my arms around her and gave her a hug, telling her she was a good girl, and that I was proud of her obedience. She held back at first, then hugged me, felt my erection – and then, knowingly or not, started to dry hump me.
Or maybe she was hoping to tempt me. Silly girl.
I held her at arms’ length. “If you behave yourself, and do what I say today, I plan to let you cum sometime this afternoon. Would you like that?”
She looked up at me eagerly, eyes shining, and said, “YES Master! Please, I…I would love that.”
She dropped her head, then continued more quietly. “I will do whatever you say, Master, but please let me cum today.”
I kissed her on the forehead, and said, “If you are obedient, then you will be allowed to cum.”
And with that, we set about getting ready to hit the trail. Suddenly, she was eager to get started. I smiled.
It’s going to be a long, fun day. For both of us.
~~~~~
The first hour was, as always, just a stunning experience, like being reborn, or discovering the world for the first time, all over again. The air was clean and fresh, with just a hint of coolness this early. The sun was low on the horizon, peeking through the pines as we walked along the trail, and, with the mountains surrounding us, it seemed as if we were alone in a magical place.
And indeed, we were alone.
In my experience of hiking, there are three classes of hiker.
First, there are those who drive to a lookout, get out, drop their candy bar wrappers and ice cream cones on the ground, waddle along the paved path for 10 meters to the look out, stand there for thirty seconds talking about what they posted on TikTok, then clamber back to the car, hoping to get some onion rings when they get back to civilization.
The second group are the Really Serious Hikers, whom I admire tremendously, and do not wish to emulate. These are the cats who pick the 50 kilometer trails that climb up to some of the lower peaks. Then, when they’ve done those, they divert into another trail that goes another 37 kilometers to an elevated lake. You can identify these guys and gals by their gaunt faces, tight bodies, weather-beaten, aluminum-frame packs, and well-used but excellent quality gear.
The third group are the ones like me, who don’t want to run into other hikers. We select the medium-length trails, anywhere from three to 15 kilometers. Too long for the lookout-tourists, too short for the serious hikers. As a result, I usually have the trails almost exclusively to myself.
Which was exactly what I wanted with Sara.
~~~~~
After about an hour, I called a halt. I had thoroughly enjoyed watching her beautiful ass work its way up the trail ahead of me, straining against the oldest, most beaten-up shorts she had. Aside from her collar, now locked around her neck, she also had on a cheap, gauzy top, which was what I bought for her to wear.
After we put down our packs, had some water from our bottles, and each took some trail mix, I called her over to where I was standing on the grass by the side of the trail. She hustled over to me. Eager; I loved it.
I reached into an outside pocket of my backpack and pulled out a pair of silicone cuffs, which looked like a figure eight, but with a straight line connecting the two loops. Lighter than metal, no keys to lose, and strong enough to restrain just about anybody.
“Put your hands out in front of you.”
She did. I stretched and fitted the cuffs around her wrists. They did not constrict her wrists at all, but there was no way she could slip them off by herself.
Next, I pulled out three, six-foot lengths of soft, nylon cord and three slim, aluminum tent pegs. I took a rock and pounded one peg into the ground by her right foot, tied a clove hitch around her right ankle, then secured it to the ground with the tent peg.
“Spread your legs wide apart, please.” Somewhat awkwardly since she couldn’t move her right foot, she stepped her left foot about as far from her right as she could. I secured it to the ground as I had the right foot. Then I walked around behind her and put my hands on her shoulder blades.
“Now, lean back into my hands.”
She did, and I kept lowering her back further and further until she was laying on the ground with her legs fastened apart.
“Lift your hands above your head.”
Somewhat more hesitantly now, she lifted her bound hands above her. I tied the third piece of cord around the middle of the silicone cuffs, then secured it to the ground with the third tent peg, well above her head.
She was now bound, helpless to the ground with her legs stretched far apart, and her hands above her. I could see her tits poking up into her cloth blouse, and smiled.
“Normally about now, I’d gag you, but there’s no one to hear you. And I seriously doubt you’re going to yell anyway, are you?”
“Wh…what are you going to do to me?”
“To you? Nothing. Beyond that…well, let’s find out, shall we?”
I pulled the sheath knife out of its holster at my waist and hefted it. Her eyes went wide and she flushed, but kept her mouth shut.
“You’re willing to trust me near you with a knife without saying anything. Good girl!” I said. I put the knife inside the waistline of her blouse, with the blunt edge towards her body, and quickly slit the fabric almost all the way to armpit, but stopped short. I didn’t want to pink her with the knife tip. Then I slipped the knife inside her sleeve on the same side, and slit the fabric again, almost all the way to her armpit.
I repeated the process on the other side.
Now the only thing holding the blouse together was the seams under her armpits.
I walked back to my pack, fished inside it, and pulled out one of my purchases of the day before: a pair of surgical scissors, the kind emergency medical personnel use to cut the clothes off of crash victims. They have a snub nose, and are angled so that the side next to the victim’s body is flat, but the other arm of the scissors get a lot of leverage. And they’re very sharp.
I slipped the snub end up next to her left armpit, and snipped the seam through. The blouse fell away from her left side. I repeated the process on the right. Then I lifted the front of her blouse, still buttoned up, off of her, revealing her tightly puckered and clearly excited tits, with her chest pumping air quickly in and out. And every once in a while, she shivered, despite the warm, pleasant air. Plus, she had a light patina of pearly perspiration. Try saying that five times fast!
I picked up the shirt-front, and tore the fabric into pieces small enough that they would not cover her no matter how she held them.
Then I started cutting her shorts using the surgical scissors. I cut from the bottom of her right leg hole through her waist, then started a new cut from her left leg hole up through her waist. Finally I lifted the front of her shorts off her, revealing her panties. They were pink, but had a dark patch in the front.
“Are these panties wet, Sara?”
“Y…yes, Master, my p…panties are wet.”
“Do good girls have wet panties before eight o’clock in the morning for no reason?”
“N…no, they don’t, Master.”
“What kind of girls do have wet panties, Sara, before eight o’clock in the morning for no reason?”
She bit her lip, then said, “Filthy fucking cunts, Master.”
I nodded. “And…?”
“That makes me a filthy, fucking cunt, Master.”
“And…?”
“Filthy, fucking cunts should be punished.”
“Do you want me to punish you, Sara, for being a filthy, fucking cunt?”
She closed her eyes and moaned, then whispered, “Yes, please, Master. Please punish me.”
I nodded. “As you wish. But we have some other things to attend to first. I’ll do as you wish and punish you a little later, okay?”
She nodded.
I suppose I could have ripped her panties off of her, but I’ve found that being quiet is often more menacing, and has a much more pronounced effect over the long haul, especially when your actions speak of violence. As a result, I carefully, and very slowly, cut her panties off of her.
“Lift up,” I ordered her. She lifted her body several times so I could pull out the backs of all her clothes, which I then proceeded to cut up into small pieces. I put the small pieces in a small stuff sack. After all, you never knew when you might need to stuff something full of relatively clean cloth. Besides, I don’t approve of littering.
I knelt down next to Sara, and looked at her.
“I’m going to ask you a question, and you’re going to answer without using your mouth.”
She looked puzzled. “Master?”
“Sara, do you want me to tease you mercilessly, pump my fingers into your cunt but not let you cum, use sex toys on you to make you desperate to cum but deny you, and use all three of your holes, plus your entire body as my fucktoy, for my pleasure and enjoyment?”
She inhaled, as if to say something, but I put a finger to her mouth. “Shhh. I want your body to answer me, not your mouth. I’ll have other uses for your mouth later.”
Then I slowly took the finger from her mouth and gently drew a line down the center of her body: along her chin, down her neck, between her tits, along her firm but soft belly, poking in at the belly button, rising over her mound, then gently but firmly slicing between her cunt lips where I found what I wanted.
“Sara, your cunt is absolutely sopping wet. It is telling me it wants me to do all of those things. So, I don’t have to ask you, do I?”
She shook her head no.
“And if I want to ask if I have your permission to do something to you, I’ll just put a finger – or fingers – into your cunt, shall I?”
She hesitated, then nodded.
“Good girl. No! Don’t speak. I think I like having you silent. For now, you’re just a walking cunt, okay?” She nodded.
“And cunts don’t speak with words, do they?” She shook her head no.
“But your cunty actions are going to speak very loudly, aren’t they?”
Her eyes got even wider, then she nodded, and swallowed.
I lay down, and propped myself up on my elbow by her side, looking down at her. Without saying anything further, I proceeded to edge and tease her, tracing lines all around and outside her labia, along the inside of her thighs, up underneath her tits, up into her armpits, then down to between her legs, and then, finally, splitting her labia to ever-so-slowly draw the line from the top of her cunt to the bottom.
When I reached the bottom, I very slowly and deliberately inserted my middle finger part way, found her G-spot, and started massaging it, slowly and deliberately. She started arching her back, pushing her mound up towards my hand, and panting. She opened her mouth…
“Shhh, shhh, shhh…no speaking. And particularly no begging. Okay?”
She shut her mouth and nodded, but went back to writhing.
When she started panting, when her face was flushed, and I thought she was about to cum, I stopped, withdrew my hand, and waited.
She cried out, and arched her back, pushing herself up on her neck and tilting her head backwards.
She was straining strongly against her bonds by this time, so I got down and checked that the knots around her ankles weren’t constricting the blood flow, or digging too tightly into her. I loosened the knot around her left ankle, then tied another knot above it so it wouldn’t get any tighter.
She turned to me, and whispered, “Please…” Her eyes were pleading.
I shook my head. “No speaking, Little Slut. Now we’ll have to add five more smacks to your punishment, won’t we?”
She looked at me, mutely, then nodded slowly.
Things were going perfectly. I could hardly wait.
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