by Budman

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© Copyright 2022 - Budman - Used by permission

Storycodes: M/f; bond; outdoors; rope; crop; cons; X

Continues from .

Author's Note: These chapters will make almost no sense if not read in order. If you haven’t, I strongly suggest you go back to the introduction and chapter 1.

Chapter 10: Backpacking, Kajira

Authors Note: These chapters will make almost no sense if not read in order. If you haven’t, I strongly 

suggest you go back to the introduction and chapter 1.

Clair and Fred are in their Sophomore year, still in separate dorms and having to find creative times and places to play. Fred arranges a campout to let Clair experience both service and bondage. Enjoy.

Fridays there were very few classes scheduled at the University. Getting away for a three-day weekend was possible if they got ahead in their studies. Fred and Clair scheduled a backpacking trip on one such three-day weekend early in Fall Semester. In early September the daytime temperatures were still in the low 80s but it could get cool at night. Perfect camping weather.

The University had an Outdoor Recreation Department that would loan out all kinds of equipment to students. Fred checked out backpacks, sleeping bags, a backpacking stove with pots and a tent. They even had a good selection of discounted dehydrated and other foods suitable for backpacking with suggested menus.

Fred had sent Clair an electronic copy of “Tarnsman of Gor” a few weeks before the weekend. She thought it was hilariously sexist.

Clair had texted him:

Clair: Seriously, Fred, this is the worst excuse for ‘literature’ I’ve ever read. I am not speaking in third person all weekend!

Fred: I know, right. But what do you think of the basic premise – you, being a Kajira in the woods of Gor for the weekend.

Clair: I’m all in as long as I don’t have to talk like that. I just don’t think I could keep a straight face.

Fred: Agreed, slave girl with an Alabama accent will do just fine.

After Clair had packed her clothes and toiletries, she gave Fred her pack to include her share of the other equipment. Once he had the pack in his dorm room, Fred removed all of Clair’s clothes from her pack except one sweatshirt which he moved to his pack. He had seen Clair wear this large, loose Sweatshirt many times and knew it reached to below her ass. Fred then packed the tent, all of the cooking gear and most of the food into Clair’s pack along with her sleeping bag. Clair’s pack now weighed about 40 lbs. and Fred’s weighed about 20.

Clair’s pack also contained a 100 ft. roll of white, cotton, three eights inch rope. Fred had chosen this rope because it was a type that didn’t unravel a lot when cut. He would have loved to have brought some chain, padlocks, handcuffs but all that stuff would have been really heavy. He would make do with rope and what he could find in the woods.

Fred did pack a good first aid kit and included a pair of good safety scissors he had recently bought. He also determined the longitude and latitude of the camping spot, where they would park their car and other details and emailed them to Clair’s dad Bob. Fred had taken the safety lecture and links Bob had sent him seriously.

Fred also made sure he and Clair had a discussion on safewords.

Hea,” Fred asked when they were planning the campout, “do you know what a ‘safeword’ is.”

“Well, I can guess,” said Clair.

“A safeword,” Fred explained what he had read, “is a way for a submissive, that’s you, to stop the action. It must be a total and instant stop to everything followed by lots of talk. To encourage you not to use a safeword unless you really are really in trouble or overwhelmed, everything needs to stop for at least a day, 24 hours. All play and sex stops, no exceptions. That makes the safeword a sort of ‘nuclear option’. Some subs have a slowdown word too.

“Fred, I don’t want one, I don’t want that much control.”

“Too bad,” Said Fred. “I’d suggest Red and Yellow, that’s seems to be what many people use because it’s easy to remember. Tell me your safewords Clair.”

“Ok,” Clair replied, “My safeword is Red and my slow down word is Yellow... but I’m not going to use them, ever.”

They left early Friday and arrived at the parking lot before lunch. Fred suggested they eat at the car before starting out. When they mounted up to start the hike, Fred helped Clair put on her pack and she was a little surprised how heavy it was. Fred was an experienced backpacker and so she didn’t question the pack. She knew he planned some fun this weekend, but she had no idea how much of the weekend she would spend in bondage. She didn’t yet know that slave girls carried most of the camping gear.

Fred had picked his route and spot carefully. He had been to this spot several times years ago with his Scout Troop. The Troop thought of it as their own, private, secret campsite in the National Forest. Fred had even called his old Scoutmaster to see if they still used the campsite and found out that, no, the current Scoutmaster wasn’t that into backpacking. The spot was at least a half mile off any trail and up in a draw. It had a small creek for water, flat spots for tents and huge hardwoods made a beautiful canopy. The trail started up one side of a small river and was an easy five-mile hike with very little grade.

They reached the side creek Fred was looking for and he had to hack some Rhododendron to find a way to get up the small creek. After they had hiked about 200 yards, Fred spotted a distinctive tree on the creekbank and called a halt. He helped Clair take off her pack then ordered her to strip.

“Is this where we’re camping?” Clair asked, looking around.
“Quiet, slave girls don’t question their masters, now strip,” Fred said with a smile on his face.

“What is he up to?” Clair wondered as she started to remove her t-shirt.

Clair had to sit down to remove her boots and then stood again to remove her blue jeans. She slipped off her panties and bra and started to open her pack to put her clothes away. Fred stopped her. He pulled a plastic garbage bag out of the top of her pack and held it open. Clair stuffed her clothes into the bag thinking, “good form to keep clothes in plastic bags to keep them dry in case of rain!”

When she started to put her socks in the bag Fred stopped her, “you can wear your boots. Slave girl has tender feet, not suitable to Gor’s rocky trails.”

“Fred, PLEASE, I can take anything you dish out but NOT that awful Gor speak.” Clair laughed.

“Anything, huh, I may take you up on that,” Fred said with a fake sneer while twirling an imaginary Snidely Whiplash mustache.

Fred tied a knot in the bag and moved to the base of the unique tree. He cleared away the leaves from a spot, put the bag on the ground and covered it with leaves. The confusion and shock on Clair’s face was priceless.

“I removed all your clothes from your pack before we left the dorm. Kajira don’t wear clothes.” Fred explained. He didn’t mention that he still had her big sweatshirt in his pack.

Clair felt a chill run through her body, and it wasn’t because it was cold. She had expected bondage and some hot sex this weekend. She pictured sitting around the campfire with her hand tied behind her back or perhaps being tied to a tree and spanked, stuff like that, but Fred had really planned this out. She might be in for more fun than she expected!

Once Clair had her socks on and boots laced back up, Fred looked her over. Clair thought she must look ridiculous, naked in just hiking boots, standing in the middle of the woods. Fred thought she looked adorable!

Fred lifted and helped Clair put on her pack. He took two short pieces of rope he had cut and tied her hands to the bottom sides of the aluminum pack frame. This pulled her arms slightly back but also gave her the ability to lift some of the pack’s weight with her arms. It also made her helpless. It also pushed her breast out delightfully. Fred now admitted what he had done with the packs.

“Slave girls are beasts of burden. Your pack contains everything except my clothes and sleeping bag.” Fred then picked up his pack with one finger and casually threw it on his back. Clair glared at him and thought “Bastard, no wonder I thought this thing was heavy!”

Fred pulled out his knife and cut a carefully selected, thin, gnarly branch from a young sweetgum tree. He swished it in front of Clair’s face. “For when you walk too slow!” He retrieved the roll of rope from the pack and cut a section about 10 feet long. He tied it around Clair’s neck with a bowline, a knot he knew would not slip and strangle her. Grabbing the other end, he simply marched off up the creek leaving Clair to follow.

After an hour or so of pushing through the underbrush along the creek, Clair needed a break, but she was damned if she was going to ask for one. Thankfully, although he was carrying half the weight she carried, Fred was getting thirsty. They stopped and Fred took out a water bottle and took a long, slow drink, commenting on how refreshing it was. He was hoping Clair would ask, or better yet, beg for water but he would learn. Clair wasn’t going to give him an inch. She wouldn’t fight him when he wanted to tie her up, but she vowed she would never ask for mercy and she would NEVER beg.

Fred helped Clair sit on a log without releasing her hands or taking the pack off. He talked about how pretty the woods were, how refreshing the stream looked. Then he announced it was time to go before their muscles cooled. But at the last minute, just when Clair assumed she would have to walk another few miles with a dry mouth, Fred held the water bottle to her lips and let her drink the rest of the bottle.

“Thank you, Sir,” Clair said sincerely.

“Pack animals must stay hydrated.” Was all Fred said.

They took a few more breaks and Clair was getting really tired of the pack. The shoulder straps and hip strap were not designed to be worn against bare skin. And she was sweating just enough to add to the irritation. And she was surprised how tired a four-mile hike was making her. She was used to running but this was working different muscles. Finally, they walked into a small clearing beside the creek with hills on three sides.

“Our home for the next two days!” Fred announced.

As Fred took the rope leash from her neck, untied her hands from the pack frame, and lifted the pack off her back he said, “Wow, that was a great hike, I need a nap. But first let’s set some expectations. Sit down and take your boots off.” He ordered.

Clair wasn’t sure what he meant by ‘expectations’ but she did as told. Fred stuffed her socks inside the boots, tied the laces together and proceeded to throw them over a nearby tree limb about 10 feet up. Clair stood there, completely naked, with her mouth open looking up at her boots.

“Ok, you are now four miles from the trail and five miles from the car. You are completely naked and have no clothes. You are barefoot and you saw that trail coming in. You are completely dependent on me for food and shelter, assuming you earn any. Oh, and I have a switch.”

“So,” Fred asked, “what are you going to do?”

“Anything I’m told, Sir.” Clair replied.

“Good answer, Slave girl. OK, here are the rules:

“Slaves serve their masters, they are seen and not heard.

“You do what you’re told, the way you’re told, as promptly and efficiently as possible.

“You don’t do anything else without being given permission and that includes eating, drinking and peeing.

“You don’t speak unless you’re spoken to.

“If you have questions or need clarification you come where I can see you, kneel in the Nadu position and wait until I acknowledge your presence.

“When you finish all tasks assigned you come where I can see you and kneel in Nadu.

“If you think there is an emergency, you are REQUIRED to speak, but it better be an emergency. Needing a drink or having to pee is not an emergency. The woods on fire or a bear entering the campsite are examples of emergencies.

“You acknowledge all instructions and answer all questions politely and always end with ‘Sir’.”

When he finished the rules, Fred walked right up to Clair and took her face in both hands. “What’s your safeword, Clair?”

“Red,” she answered with a smile and added, “but I won’t use it.”

Fred kissed her, long and deep. Clair’s knees went weak. That, she had NOT expected.

“Grab your ankles, Fred said as he pulled away.”

Clair was still floating and barely heard him but slowly bent at the waist pushing her cute bottom out.

Fred picked up the switch he had cut and started lightly tap, tap, tapping on her ass cheeks.

“Know that there will be consequences if you break the rules slave girl.”

As he said it Fred slowly increased the strength of the taps. He had never used a switch on Clair before. Other than playfully swatting her with a towel or his belt he had never hit her ass with anything other than his hand. He watched her closely as he kept tapping and increasing the intensity.

Clair wiggled her bottom, not to escape but to try and move the impact point around.

Tap, tap, tap.

She opened her mouth in an O but made not a sound.

Tap, tap, tap.

Every muscle in her legs and back was tense but she didn’t move.

Tap, tap, tap.

Finally, a whimper escaped her lips and Fred stopped.

Fred found his nylon hammock in the top of Clair’s pack and indicated two trees where she should set It up. Clair stood up and went to work. When she finished, Fred climbed in the Hammock with a book.

He then instructed Clair to:

The forest campsite floor was mostly leaves and pine straw, but there were enough sticks and stones under the leaves that Clair had to walk very carefully. The first shock was when she waded into the creek to get some stones. Damn that water was cold!

She went through the list, one at a time, trying not to forget an instruction.

Meanwhile, Fred dozed in his hammock.

Gathering firewood was harder than she expected. Gathering involved walking farther and farther from camp which was hard on her feet. Dragging limbs back through the brush produced scratches on her arms and legs no matter how careful she was.

After several trips, Fred directed her to get the small pack saw out of her pack and start cutting the larger limbs into two-foot-long sections. She was surprised how quickly her arms tired, but she kept sawing.

Fred finally told her to stop. He had noticed that she was doing the “pee pee dance” as she sawed wood. It was the unmistakable squirming of someone who had to go. Clair had felt her full bladder ever since they made camp, but once Fred laid out the rules, she was determined not to break them by asking.

“You may go pee slave,” Fred said kindly.

Clair had been camping enough to know the drill. But she hadn’t been told to dig a trench and she wasn’t even sure there was a folding shovel in the pack. She had also not seen any toilet paper and wondered if Fred had packed it. So she started walking towards the creek.

“SLAVE,” Fred shouted. When she quickly stopped and looked at him, he continued, “Are you seriously going to pee in our water supply? Why don’t you just pee in the tin cup and drink it. You’re lucky I don’t make you do just that.”

Clair blushed furiously at her failure and shuddered at Fred’s threat at the same time. Fred pointed at her pack. In digging around, she found the small pack shovel with its handle stuck through a roll of toilet paper.

“Dig a trench behind that log, one foot per person per day we’re here,” Fred said.

Clair dug the trench, used it, put some dirt back over her pee and propped the shovel and paper against the log. She was thankful Fred had directed her to place the trench behind a log as it gave her just a little privacy.

Fred reminded Clair to wash her hands with some dishwashing soap, which made her feel like a child. He then directed Clair to get the dehydrated Beef Stew out of her pack and follow the directions to prepare it. Clair tried but she had never used one of the small gas stoves Fred had checked out and she thought it was too dangerous to guess how it worked. Was this an emergency? No, she decided, she would use the “get attention” rule. She went over to Fred’s Hammock and dropped to the Nadu position.

After ignoring her for several minutes Fred reached the end of a chapter and indicated she could speak.

“I’m sorry but I’ve never used this kind of gas backpacking stove before Sir,” Clair said looking at the ground.

“Good slave for asking,” Fred said and was surprised to see Clair smile.

Fred fueled and fired up the stove, showing Clair how to do so safely, then went back to his Hammock.

When dinner was finished, Fred came to the fire and sat on a boulder. Clair noticed there was only one tin plate and spork in her pack, so she poured all the stew in the plate and handed it to Fred with one of the water bottles. Fred pointed at the ground next to him and Clair kneeled.

The stew was marginal in taste but it and the crackers in the package were filling. By the time he finished ¾ of the plate, Clair had decided he was going to let her go hungry. That made her stomach growl so loudly in protest that Fred could hear it.

He looked down at her, “Well, I guess I can’t make a rule that your stomach can’t speak its mind” he laughed.

Fred slowly fed Clair the last part of the bowl one spoonful at a time.

“This is hot,” Clair thought as she sat at his feet being hand fed, “I hope we have sex soon!”

After dinner, Clair washed and put away the dishes and Fred laid and started a fire with the wood Clair had gathered. They brushed their teeth together, sharing a tin cup of water then together they put the food for the rest of the trip along with their toiletries into a plastic garbage bag and, using some of the rope Fred brough, hoisted the food up between two trees.

Fred pulled his poncho out of his pack and laid it on the ground in front of the fire where he could lean back against the big rock. He indicated Clair should join him and she snuggled her naked body up in his lap. Fred’s warm body on one side and the fire on the other felt great. Fred suspended the “don’t talk” rule and talked for hours.

They talked about classes, about other students, about school gossip, about the hike in and how beautiful the campsite was. They talked about their future and how much Clair was looking forward to graduating so they could get married and play like this more often.

As the evening went on it got cooler and Fred had Clair unroll, unzip and open up her sleeping bag so they could use it like a blanket. And they kept talking. Clair was content. She loved both sides of Fred, the side that could call her ‘slave girl’ and make her serve him and suffer for him, and the Fred that she could curl up with and talk about their future.

They were both yawning when Fred said “Time for bed, I’d suggest you go empty your bladder because it’s the last chance you’ll have till morning.”

Clair thought, “Oh goodie, I wonder what he has planned.” Then she pulled the sleeping bag off and stood up. “Shit, it’s cold out here!” as she ran to the latrine ditch.

Fred sternly told her that the ‘Don’t speak unless spoken too,” rule was back in effect.

Clair wanted to pee as fast as she could, but she was shivering so much it took her forever to get a flow going. Fred just stood by the fire and laughed. The bastard even wrapped the sleeping bag around his shoulders to stay warm while he watched.

When she ran back to the fire, Fred was tempted to make her stand in the cold for a bit, but she was shivering so badly that he had pity. He had Clair stand in the bottom of the sleeping bag but remain standing. He then zipped up the side of the bag. Clair noticed immediately that the bag was longer than she was tall, Fred had checked out a bag made for a tall man. Fred then pulled the drawstring at the top of the bag and tied it off so there was about a softball sized opening remaining at the top.

Holding on to the bag with one hand so Clair wouldn’t fall over, he picked up what remained of the 100ft roll of rope. Even after cutting off sections to tie Clair’s hands to the pack frame, make her leash and hand the food bag, there was probably 50 ft. left. He started at Clair’s shoulders, tying a loop and then tightly wrapping around and around outside the sleeping bag. When he reached to below her ass, he helped her sit down, lifted her legs, and continued wrapping, using the whole 50 ft. and finishing with a knot at her ankles.

Clair was now mummified in a mummy sleeping bag. Clair loved it. She had never been claustrophobic, and this felt like being hugged in a warm embrace, emphasis on the warm. Of course, she could barely move because of the stiffness of the bag and all the rope Fred had used. He rolled up the Poncho they had been sitting on and put it under her head for a pillow, arranging the top of the bag so that the small opening was right above her face.

“Good night slave girl. I hope you can hold your bladder ‘cause I’m thinking I’ll sleep in.” Fred teased as he poured a pot of water over the fire, stirred it, then entered and zipped up his tent.

The ground was hard and the poncho not the best pillow, but Clair was tired. She was replaying the day in her mind, and almost ready to fall asleep when, reviewing the rules Fred had set, she remembered he had said, “an example of an emergency was a bear entering the campsite.” Then she remembered they had put their food up in a bear bag, so Fred obviously thought there were bears in these woods.

The sleeping bag muffled a lot of sound but that just made things harder to identify. The wind in the trees sounded like something breathing right next to her bag. The rocks in the fireplace made cracking sounds as they cooled that Clair was sure were footprints. When an acorn or pine-cone or something fell and hit the ground near her, she almost screamed for Fred. Somehow, she steadied her breathing. She reminded herself that Fred loved her, that he had been focused all day on her safety. But, just maybe, he hadn’t thought about bears? “What was THAT?”

Clair finally drifted off to sleep sometime in the middle of the night.


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