The Ranger and the Runaway

by Loki Renard

  She glanced at the door that led back to the bedroom where she could hear Travis’ footsteps. Then she glanced at the other door. Their suite was pretty nice; it had its own living area that opened out onto a little private garden, which adjoined the rest of the hotel complex. It would be easy to choose door number two, which led to the fire dancing, and not door number one, which led to an early bedtime.

  It took all of three seconds for her to make the decision. She turned the shower on so Travis would think she was getting cleaned up, then took advantage of the running water to mask the sound of the other door opening. In less than a minute, Sandy was out in the garden, and fifteen minutes later she had a coconut cocktail in her hand and was watching the native fire dancers begin to spin their poi as the sun set. The first cocktail was imperative for soaking the little pangs of guilt that assailed her enjoyment. The second cocktail was for chasing away the rest of her nerves, and the third one, well, that was just for fun.

  The night drew on and she began to forget entirely that she was out without Travis. The dancers started to draw volunteers out of the crowd to try the native dances with them and she put her hand up immediately, crying out until her hands were taken by two muscular oiled men who ushered her between them and showed her how to make her hips move in time with the beat.

  The crowed clapped and cheered as Sandy did her version of the dance. She beamed so broadly her cheeks hurt, until the firelight glinted off a familiar face and her heart sank along with her stomach. There, in the front row, watching with arms folded over his chest, a direly dour expression on his face—was Travis.

  “Oh, god,” she groaned. The shock of seeing him, combined with the sudden realization that she was in a huge deal of trouble, combined with a good deal of coconut and alcohol, brought up the contents of her stomach in one rushing swell.

  What happened next was not pretty. There were cries of amusement and disgust as Sandy regurgitated the evening’s refreshments on herself and the ground below. With her stomach voided, she was ready to explain herself. She didn’t get a chance. Travis grabbed her firmly around the waist and hoisted her up onto his shoulder.

  Blabbering explanations and apologies, Sandy was carried all the way back to their suite. Travis did not say a word as he put her into the shower still fully clothed—and turned it on. Sandy made a little drunk protest as hot beads of water began to soak her, but her clothes soon began to come off at the insistence of his fingers, followed by his.

  She stood trembling from nausea and nerves as he lathered up a cloth and washed her from head to toe, still without saying so much as a word. They’d showered together before and each time it had ended with him taking her thoroughly. This time there was no erotic tenderness to his touch. He washed her breasts, her nipples, her pussy and her ass with a perfunctory touch that implied no attraction at all on his part.

  “Travis? I’m sorry,” she said. “I’m so, so, so, so, so, so, so, so… so… uh…” she forgot what she was saying, then suddenly she remembered. “I’m sorry! So. So….”

  What happened after that, she was not entirely sure. She had an impression of being toweled down by her husband, whose expression was still so grim it made her stomach turn even though there was nothing left in it. He picked her up again and the room spun as she was laid down in bed babbling incoherently.

  Travis did not respond to any of it, but that didn’t stop Sandy from attempting to explain everything. He lay beside her silently, waiting for her to run out of steam. She was still apologizing when she fell asleep.

  * * *

  On the fourth morning of their honeymoon, Sandy was woken by a hard swat to her bare cheek. She woke up to find Travis standing over her, sunglasses perched on his head, wearing shorts and an expression that would have made Medusa jealous. Sandy almost wished she could be turned to stone, just so she wouldn’t have to deal with Travis’ eyes boring into her with all that disappointment.

  “Ugh,” she said, putting her hand to her head. “Um. I’m sorry.”

  “You will be.”

  Those three little words made her heart sink. She was already more sorry than he could imagine, but repeating that sentiment wasn’t going to prove anything.

  “I had something special planned for us today,” he said. “I told you as much, but I guess going out and getting drunk was more important than that.”

  “No!” Sandy wailed. “That’s not… I mean…” She couldn’t really explain herself or find a decent excuse. Her behavior had been inexcusable and now she felt so guilty she could barely stand it.

  “Get cleaned up, put some clothes on, and eat something,” he said, pointing to the fully laden breakfast table.

  Sandy nodded and complied without complaint. Her head was pounding and she felt queasy, but she knew better than to comment on that. She dressed and ate in prickly, uncomfortable silence that made her yearn for a spanking. If he’d thrown her over his thigh and thrashed her, there would at least have been some outlet for all the guilt. As it was, he was making her simmer in it.

  “Come on,” he said when she’d managed a piece of toast. “We have somewhere to be.”

  “We’re still going?”

  He didn’t reply. He opened the door and pointed in the direction of the general outdoors. Sandy bowed her head and walked through the door in front of him, just barely resisting the urge to cover her rear as she walked past him. She needn’t have worried. He didn’t swat her butt, and she was sadder for it.

  What followed was a five-minute drive down to a jetty, where a small powerboat was waiting. Travis helped her down into the boat and helped her put a lifejacket on. His touch was brief and clinical and left her feeling hollow inside.

  “Are you going to take me out and drop me in the middle of the ocean?”

  There wasn’t so much as a glimmer of amusement in response to her lame jest. She sat down where he pointed, next to the steering wheel and looked out over the water, blinking back tears as Travis cast out and set off into the great blue expanse.

  If she hadn’t messed up so badly, she would have really enjoyed the trip. He’d obviously prepared for it; she could see a basket with what was probably a picnic in it. But now, instead of a romantic day out with her new husband, she was on a literal guilt trip—a guilt voyage.

  Travis piloted the craft around the island to a small secluded bay, then killed the motor and turned to her.

  “Strip.”

  Sandy might have questioned the order under normal circumstances, but she didn’t make any argument at all. She pulled off her shorts, shed her panties, and then struggled to get her upper clothing off thanks to the lifejacket. Travis came to her aid, unbuckling it and lifting it over her head so that she could pull her t-shirt off without any trouble.

  The boat bobbed gently in the water as he pointed to the back of the seat. “Bend over.”

  Sandy turned around, balancing on her knees as she bent over the back of the seat, raising her bare rear to the sun and the sea. Behind her, Travis was at work. First a thick dollop of lubricant landed on her anus. It was quickly followed by the rubber tip of what turned out to be the biggest butt plug she had ever experienced.

  She gasped and whimpered as Travis worked it into her rear, the thick intrusion forcing her anus to stretch wider than she thought it could. Just when she was sure she could not take it, Travis smoothed his hand up her back and back down toward her bottom.

  “Relax,” he murmured.

  His tender touch, and that one kind word made her whole body relax enough for the plug to slide into place, the flared base sitting against her anus. It was not the most comfortable sensation Sandy had experienced, her bottom felt very full and tight, but she liked the way Travis’ hands felt on her bottom as he held her in place and let her get used to the feeling.

  “By the time I’m finished with you today, you won’t ever run away from me again.”

  “I didn’t run away…”

  “You sneaked out and left me not know
ing what had happened to you,” he replied. “And after all we’ve been through. After being kidnapped. After planning on running away back at the base… this running off is something I’m going to break you of, Sandy.”

  She squirmed in place, biting her lower lip. She could have promised him that she would never run away again, but it would have rung hollow—and she was not sure she could mean it.

  “Sit back down,” he said. “We’re not there yet.”

  Sandy turned around and sat back on the seat, now completely naked aside from the lifejacket that Travis insisted she put back on. With inflated rubber around her chest and a thick plug of it in her bottom, Sandy held tight to the railing as the boat began to move again, sending juddering vibrations through her entire body that were somehow focused at the nexus of bottom and plug.

  They continued to make their way around the bays, Sandy gasping and squeaking as the plug moved in her bottom almost as if it were in some way animate. Though Travis had barely touched her, he’d still managed to create a situation in which she had to endure being anally taken by the rough movement of the boat over the waves. As Travis increased the speed of the vessel, the vibrations grew in intensity. Sandy was soon white-knuckled, her mouth spread wide in an almost constant moan.

  The boat slowed as they approached a series of rocky channels that required more careful navigation. Though the speed was no longer forcing the plug to bounce inside her, it did nothing to stop the sensation of fullness or the purring vibration that travelled from the motor right to her anus. Sandy was so distracted by the plug that she almost wasn’t aware of the fact that they were pulling into a small private beach surrounded by tall volcanic cliffs and ringed by tropical trees.

  “Wow,” she said, momentarily distracted from the sensation in her rear by the stunning, remote beauty of the place. It was quite possible to believe that they were the last people on earth as Travis gathered a few supplies, then docked the boat and led her up the beach, the plug making each step she took a challenge.

  He walked her over to a tree, then proceeded to unpack not a picnic blanket and sandwiches as Sandy had supposed was in the basket, but several lengths of hemp rope. She bit her lower lip, realizing that Travis wasn’t going to stop with the butt plug. He had more in store. A lot more.

  She watched as he rigged a top line between two trees, pulling it taut a good six inches above her head. Sandy had no idea what he planned to do with that, but she didn’t have to worry too long. Travis worked the rest of the rope between the two trees much like a spider creating a simple web.

  When he was partially done, he had her stand in between the two trees and raise her hands above her head. He removed the lifejacket, leaving her completely naked, and bound her wrists together, attaching them to the top rope. Stretched and exposed, Sandy knew she was in trouble—she just didn’t realize how much.

  Travis swept her feet apart, then proceeded to bind each of her ankles, using the trees on either side as hitching points. By the time he was finished, Sandy was standing spread-eagled, every part of her body vulnerable.

  “Now let’s talk,” he said, taking the last item out of his basket of tricks—a braided leather lash that he shook out with a solid crack that made her flinch in place. He stood facing her, his imposing body more desirable than ever for the fact that Sandy knew she couldn’t touch him. He had shed his shirt and was standing in nothing but long shorts, his torso rippling in the Hawaiian sun.

  Travis flicked his wrist, making the end of the leather lash whip up and catch the underside of her left breast. “Pay attention.”

  “I am!” Sandy gasped.

  “That look in your eye tells me you weren’t,” he said. “I know that look, Sandy. That’s the look you get before I fuck you. I’m not about to fuck you. I’m about to teach you a lesson, understand?”

  “Yessir,” Sandy nodded quickly.

  He snapped his wrist again and the leather lash landed on her right breast, kissing her flesh and leaving a bright red mark in its wake.

  “You’re mine,” he said. “You’re my wife. There’s no running away from us, Sandy.” He punctuated his words with several more lashes, all of which landed against her breasts and two of which caught her nipples, making her hiss through her teeth and dance in place. The stinging heat from each lash travelled through her breasts, shot through her body, and ended up making her clit tingle with the sort of excitement Travis would not have approved of, she was sure.

  “You’re not listening,” he repeated, walking around her spread frame. He stood behind her and applied a dozen hard swats to her bottom with the flat of his palm, spanking her hard enough to make her rise up to her toes and strain helplessly against her rope bonds. The hard slaps made the infernal plug dance inside her ass, and caused great waves of sensation to go rushing through her body. His words were unnecessary at that point. Her predicament spoke for itself. If she ran, she would find herself bound so she couldn’t move and punished sternly.

  “I understand, Travis,” she promised him as he stood back and started plying his lash with expert strokes against her inner thighs, bringing welts up against the sensitive skin with each and every stroke. She writhed and gasped, but in spite of her sore nipples, stinging ass, and plugged bottom, she was starting to get wet. That was one thing she couldn’t control. Her reaction to his dominance was pure instinct and it was more powerful than either of them.

  Travis saw it too. He walked around in front of her, looked her dead in the eye, and slid two fingers deep into her pussy in one hard thrust. “Your body knows who you belong to,” he growled down at her, his lips inches from hers as he began finger-fucking her hard and fast, his palm slapping against the bud of her clit. “I bet your body told you that you were doing the wrong thing when you ran off. I bet you were nervous. Sweaty palms. Heart beating faster and faster. Your body knew you were being a bad girl, but you didn’t listen to it and you didn’t listen to me.”

  Sandy uttered a cry of need, so far beyond words she couldn’t hope to form any. Travis’ fingers were coated in her juices, his hand slick with her arousal. He let out a growl, pulled his fingers out of her cunt, and pressed them to her mouth. “Taste yourself, Sandy,” he said as her juices coated her tongue. “See how much you’re mine.”

  She suckled at his fingers obediently, wishing they were his cock. But she had not earned his cock; she was a naughty girl, tied between two trees receiving a well-deserved punishment from her husband and it was not over yet.

  Travis pulled his fingers out of her greedy mouth, transferred the lash from his free hand and began to walk around her. With every step he cracked the leather through the air, landing welts on the mound of her pussy, the tips of her nipples, the crown of her ass cheeks, the backs and inner parts of her thighs. He was incredibly thorough and relentless with the lash, leaving Sandy pulling and then pushing against the ropes that held her as she tried in vain to escape the stinging bites. Through it all her pussy continued to leak juices that not only coated her pussy lips but began to slick her thighs, adding wetness to the fresh welts Travis was conjuring with the leather lash.

  He completed several punitive revolutions of her squirming body before he finally tossed the leather away and pushed his shorts down to reveal his long cock throbbing with hard erection, the head of his dick gleaming with traces of pre-cum. The sight of it made Sandy’s pussy release fresh juices, but it was not her pussy he had in mind. Travis walked around behind her and took hold of the butt plug, pressing it in and then sliding it out a little, then pressing it back in, teasing her poor stretched ass. Sandy could do nothing besides arch her hips out and plead for him.

  After what seemed like an erotic eternity, Travis finally pulled the plug out of her ass and pressed his cock to the tight, lubricated hole between her cheeks. With his hands on the ropes, he used her bonds to pull her down onto his cock, impaling her ass on his hard flesh in one long motion.

  Sandy wailed her pleasure and her pain as Travis started
fucking her ass with rough strokes, adding a little more lubricant from a bottle in the basket every now and then to ease his passage as he made free with her rear. Wailing to sea and sky, Sandy looked down and saw her pink welted breasts bouncing with each thrust as she was thoroughly fucked for her sins.

  Travis spared nothing in taking her. His teeth fastened on the back of her neck, asserting his claim on her bound frame. Her knees went weak as her pussy began to pulse with need, her inner walls clenching around the cock she so badly wanted in her cunt, but could not have. The knots at her ankles and wrists held her in place, keeping her right where Travis wanted her as his hips slapped against her ass and his cock ravaged her bottom.

  Sandy felt herself begin to slip away—not into some drunk haze as she had the night before, but into a warm, floating space where she surrendered herself to him. The ropes held her firmly and his body plunged inside hers over and over again, connecting deeply with the very core of her. He was giving her more than just rough sex. He was giving her a complete emotional and physical overload, hitting every erogenous zone in her body and absolving her of all guilt. All she had to do was breathe as Travis took total control, his hand sliding around the front of her body, his fingers slapping her pussy in time with his thrusts.

  She started to buck against his hand, each swat more welcome than the last. As much as it stung, it made her clit buzz and tingle and it made the swirling sensations in her body condense low in her belly and start to grow in an orgasm that seemed bigger than she was. His fingers thundered against the tight little bud of her clit, his cock seeking the depths of his ass, growing thicker still as he got closer to coming inside her.

  “Come, Sandy,” he bit out the order in her ear. “Come while I spank your disobedient little cunt and fuck your naughty ass. Come for me.”

  Her body obeyed the order without waiting for permission from her mind. Sandy exploded into orgasm, her toes curling in the sand, her abdomen tightening, her arms tugging at the ropes with more strength than she knew she had as she came, shaking, shivering, moaning. Behind her, Travis let out a primal roar and unloaded inside her ass, his cum soaking her insides in great spurting jets. The shared climax shook her to her bones, seared her very soul, and left her entirely undone.