Midsummer Nights Dream-Part One

A sunny summer's day draws to it's close. Shadows lengthen and a hush falls along the rutted track. I coast to a halt alongside the drystone wall in front of the farmhouse and shut off the engine.

The only sound is the tiny ticking of the cars' cooling engine. The journey here took a while, several hours actually and I wonder how my cargo has managed in the boot. My cock thickens and hardens at the prospect of the night ahead and I take a moment to ready myself. I feel so alive, so totally in the moment. All of my senses are switched to full and I am assailed by the scents of the countryside. Silage comes faintly to me on the breeze as well as the honeysuckle in the neatly tended garden. The sound of a cricket in the tinder dry grass off to the left seems absurdly loud. The setting sun is a slash of crimson as it drops down behind the hills, garlanded in gold and orange cloud.

I pull my rucksack from the passenger seat and rummage for the keys to the house. I can hear you adjusting your position nervously in the boot and I smile as I make for the house, opening the sweet little whitewashed gate and strolling across the manicured lawn and up the three stone steps to the front of the building. I drop the rucksack by the porch and open the door, stepping inside. I am impressed. Very nice. Perfect for my needs. It's nicely furnished so the weekend should be comfortable, for me at least, and wonderfully secluded. There's not another house within a mile.

I head out to the car and reach into the back seat for the box of supplies and transfer it quickly into the house.

When I finally get round to opening the boot, my heart goes out to you, so still and quiet. You are still nicely trussed, having, of course made no impression on your bonds. The dying light glows lovingly on your soft naked skin and I lean in to kiss your flank, making you start and squirm briefly. You emit a gentle, interrogative moan as I reach in and lift you bodily from the confines of the boot and switching you onto my shoulder in a firemans lift I carry you into the house. I carry you straight through the lounge and sit you down on a straight backed, heavy wood kitchen chair at the table. I lift your arms over the back as you grunt softly into the tightly tied gag, and using the loose end of rope at your wrists, tie you securely to a rung at the back of the chair. You move your head around as though you could see through the scarf, secured over your eyes as a blindfold.

As you sit nervously awaiting developments I gaze lovingly at your beautiful body. It fills me with pride that you are mine and I resolve to make this a weekend to remember for us both…..