March/April 2003
The Sadist With A Mean Streak

by John Gault




Road Trip Vacations

A week before the fourth of July and I was feeling edgy. Work was making me feisty and the daily routine was about to make me burn down the house to force a change... or two. It was time for a road trip. I like to drive. That is, I like to drive when the trip includes off-road opportunities and exploration hiking. I woke one morning and decided to travel north to Sequoia Forest and then off to Monterey and finally a quiet drive back south along the coast to San Diego. “Pack some bags bitch, we leave in two hours!” I told my darling pain-loving whore.

We spent the first night in a hotel somewhere about half an hour drive from the forest. I tied her to the sturdy glass top coffee, decorated her nipples with several clothespins, covered her tits with 30 more pins each, and lined each side of her labia with six pins. Her first day of the trip was barely enough pleasure to relieve the pain threshold I had settled my mind upon. I had a wire whisk stashed away in my bag of fun and games and waved it before her glassy eyed stare of the ceiling. She mumbled, “My IUD?” The poor little girl object was always fearful that her IUD would become tangled in the wires of the whisk and consequently brutally yanked yanked from her cervix. I told her not to worry because I had sterilized the toy a week or two prior to tossing it into my old toy bag. After flicking several of the pins attached to her glowing red tits and hot pink nipples I quickly plunged the whisk inside the cunt’s twat. “Let’s see if we can rip that IUD from your cervix!” I shouted. I try to be very aware of all of her fears and take her concerns in mind whenever I torture her. What better way to relieve my need for cruelty?

She had been more than anxious each time we were in a store and I would talk to her about purchasing the whisk. As I would explain the tremendous sensations her g-spot would receive from the insertion and spinning it round and round inside her tender twat, her face would cringe as she gasped concern of it catching the IUD. Of course I would put the whisk back on the shelf and tell her she was correct; it might be too dangerous. She knew it would find its way home one-day, but she could never anticipate when. Try as I did that night in the hotel, and several tries I should add, I couldn’t get the damn thing to snag that little wire protruding from her wretched cervix. Finally in frustration I twisted each of the pins off her tits, nipples, and labia then sent her to bed.

The next day we spent the sunshine hours and a few of the early evening hours out hiking through the Sequoia Forest and its river. I had placed two bottles of champaign in the hotel room refrigerator before we left for the day. When we returned home that night the bubbly was frigid cold and ready for serving. It was our one-year anniversary and a celebration was at hand. I took her out onto the balcony and tied her in a chair. She was naked, of course, her legs spread wide, her arms stretched out from her body and secured to the balcony railing. I rocked the chair backward so it was standing on the rear two legs, the back of the chair resting against the balcony rail. After checking the rims of two Champaign flutes across her still sore nipples for rough edges I wished her happy anniversary and slapped her twat with my open hand several times. I pulled a bottle of Champaign from the refrigerator removed the foil wrapping from the bottle top and began twisting the wire harness loose from the cork. I told her we would enjoy a toast together then off popped the cork. As the foaming, frothy brew began to explode out of the bottle I quickly shoved it up inside her spread spunk catcher. She squealed, then screamed as her uterus filled with Champaign. Handily, I picked up one of the flutes and held it to her twat and let it fill with the expelled champagne, then I let her drink the now tainted brew. Afterward I told her to shower her sticky ass and get to bed.

Day three: I woke still feeling an urge for cruelty. My mind raced for some way to release the penned up desire to mutilate and/or destroy. My lovely bitch was driving as we headed west toward the peninsula. To amuse myself during the hours on the road ahead of us I used my fingers to flick her terribly sore nipples, then scolded her for her poor driving and lectured her about the need for safety conscious driving... flick -- flick some more. As we headed up through the heavy woods of central California my imagination began to run amuck. “There!” I shouted, “right there. Turn this truck around.” She complied, and in a very safe and conscientious manner she crossed the highway and headed us back to the spot I had pointed to on the side of the road. We were on a less traveled, two-lained highway and there was a pull off spot that looked just perfect to me. As we pulled over and stopped I was pleased by the surroundings. The immediate landscape provided rather dense woods and a deep, dried creek bed that was barely visible from the roadside. “Let’s do it!” I exclaimed. She nodded and exited the truck not knowing what I was meant by “it”, but ever so obedient she is.

I grabbed my bag of pleasures from the back of the truck and down into the creek bed we headed. We only needed to travel about 20 feet from the highway to be almost completely out of sight from passing traffic. I stopped her there, in the middle of the creek bed, while I dug through my bag for a rope. I tossed one end of the rope high over the top of a tree branch that crossed over the creek, then I fastened the rope to her wrists. It was one of my better cinch ties to be sure and I used it to hoist her hands up over her head stretching her arms to a slight discomfort. (her’s not mine) I pulled the free end of the rope back and secured it to the base of another tree. She looked so pathetic standing there on her tip toes, her arms stretched upward framing the sides of her face, and her eyes now wide and frightened. Back into my bag I went looking and I pulled out a horse bit. Placing the bit tightly into her mouth I felt some relief that I wouldn’t be bothered by her high pitched feminine vocal tones. Just a few more adjustments to the setting which enabled me to capture yet another part of my vacation on video tape and I was off to quench my need.

It must have been that time several months early when she had shown such tremendous fear for the single tail that inspired me today. As we traveled along the road and I watched the trees whipping past the truck windows, yes I thought, “whip!” Followed by several quick thoughts of out doors in the wild and forests, and bodda-bing here we are.

Her delicate body on display and held captive for me. The fear of the wire whisk was a trifle compared to her instant panic as I pulled the six foot single tail from the bag. The Emory of the instant tears which fell from her eyes still give me an equally instant smile. Her muffled moans sounded like oh-no-master-please-no, but it only fueled the fire inside me. I pulled her shirt up over her floppy tits and left it ruffled and bunched up around her neck. I unfastened and pulled her shorts and panties down to her ankles and as she tried to step out of them, her concentration taken away for just a brief moment, the first crack of the whip settled across the back of her rib cage. She gasped then hurried again to step free of her shorts and the next sting of the whip creased her left tit. She scrambled toward the side of the creek bed, but found her bondage would not allow her travel to far. I began to gather my range and timing of the blows to match her moves and counter moves. She was in a perpetual motion of escape only to find each move was the wrong direction. Sharp stings, followed by cutting slashes continued to barrage her tender flesh from her knees to tits, front and back.

The setting was exquisite; the sound of wind traveled through the branches and leaves in the trees was only interrupted occasionally by the sound of a passing vehicle on the nearby highway. The air was warm and dry and the smell of wild sage surrounded us. Wild grasses knee high lined the edges of the creek bed and the base of the trees all around. The sun light filtered down through the trees and glimpses of blue sky were revealed above the canopy of branches.

I stopped for a few minutes to let my tramp victim catch her breath and regain her designated position in the center of the creek bed. For the next round of the beating I used a heavy dear skin flogger. She doesn’t fear the flogger at all, but the weight of it makes quick work of softening her flesh. After several minutes of beating her entire body with the flogger I again paused to let her regain composure. I know how important it is for her to feel she is providing me a good service so I indulge her false sense of satisfaction. Again I bring the single tail out for her to see. It is impossible for me to express the total satisfaction her visible fear of the thing brings me. During the next set of slashing and cutting short blows she shows me the depth of her fear of the whip by involuntarily pissing all over herself. It is a beautiful scene to be sure. I shame her disgusting lack of control and continue the whipping by concentrating the next several slaps across her tits and nipples. My skill to hit what I aim for thrills me to try for an even more tender area. Yes! Her little clit proves to be a not so difficult target, though I did have to stop and reposition her after each stinging blow.

Her tears flow as a water faucet with a bad washer leaks and she is really mad. I can make out the muffled tones, ‘goddamn it... what the fuck is wrong with me...I’m fucking worthless!” I understand now that she is disgusted with her inability to stand still and take the whipping. She struggles with her desire to serve and her natural instincts to move from the pain and fear. I am pleased! Her welted tits, back, belly, ass, and cunt glow with hot pink and red colors. A few welts have already turned black and blue and several welts have small beads of blood on the surface. I stop to take in the surroundings and feel the relief that has finally begun to replace my cruel needs. While she looks toward the road, captured by the sound of a passing semi truck I tell her not to look for any help today, reminding her that no one can see or hear her cries. I finish her with several more cutting slashes of the whip.

I make my way over to the bag to get the camera and load it with a fresh disk. I get a few good pictures of the welts and bruises when a little extra surprise comes my way. It seems the fresh blood a sweat from her body have attracted the horse flies of the forest. They gather on her welts and bite her flesh to drink her perspiration and blood. She screams and shakes her body trying to rid the pests. The flies are tenacious and she can only manage to keep them off for a few brief moments at a time. Compassionate as I am and a lover of nature I decide to let them feed for awhile while I pack up the whips, paddles, and cameras. Several minutes later I release her from the bit and bondage and allow her to dress. As we walk up the creek bed and toward the truck I tell her that are second year together has begun in a most encouraging starting point and that I can’t wait to see what more we can put her tender body and mind through in the months ahead. As we drive on toward Monterey we discuss the difficulties she was having while performing so badly during the beating and what she can do the next time to better serve me.

Two days until the Fourth of July celebration, five days of vacation left to go, and we are only a few hours from Monterey. We stopped at a roadside vendor to purchase a few hundred fireworks and then pressed on to the hotel. I was tired and hungry and she was beginning to whine about the pains from the beating so we had a quick dinner and headed straight to bed. My mind was focused, the frustration that had been building inside me was beginning to dispense and I knew it wouldn’t be long before I was back to - normal.

We look back at the videos from that vacation from time to time and recall how much fun the vacation was. Each year since that one we try to match or out match the agenda of that first vacation and with the exception of one short four day vacation which failed the rest have been more brutal and cruel. The labors of work have increased and the pressures of a failing economy have put more strain on day to day life since that first vacation. Consequently we have had to increase our vacation times from twice a year to four times a year, and I fear life will only add more pressure in the months and years to come. Yes my precious lover avails her self to me daily and I am able to work out many of my cruel needs in those days, but there is nothing quite as therapeutic as a road trip vacation.

Until next time, keep the e-mail coming. In my round about way I am answering many of the questions and comments you’ve sent.