The open plains

Beyond the suburb stretched open plains and cracked earth. It had probably been agricultural land at some point, because irrigation ditches still webbed across it. Now, though, it was scrubby dry grass and an occasional tough bush, piercing the wide, low horizon.

Mark trudged across the plain behind Sieran. His neck was held by a long leash that she kept in her hand as she walked behind him, and his hands were tied together and attached to the leash so she could always see them. His ankles were loosely hobbled so he could walk, but not run.

The leash and its meaning humiliated him. Every time it tugged at his neck, he remembered Marotti's smirking face, so smug in his false apology. Every now and then Sieran would walk forward and grab his ass, squeezing and fondling until he stopped walking. Then he would stand stiffly ignoring her until she shoved him forward, resuming the pace. Each time she did it, he focused his mind on controlling his rebellious anatomy. Even holding him on leash, she was still one of the sexiest women he'd ever seen, and the leash itself didn't help. Mark wasn't a submissive partner, but his preferences for strong, challenging women who were also supremely sexy argued strongly for Sieran: after all, she was strong enough, mentally and physically, to keep him kept. But it wasn't being dominated by women that turned Mark on.

Mark liked a challenge.

They hunkered down in the remnants of an old house. It was roofless and parts were filled with old construction rubble, but it provided shelter from the wind. Unfortunately for Mark, it also blocked any view from the east of the small fire Sieran made. It was clear she stopped here often; after she'd gotten a fire, she dug out from under a pile of rubble a large pot, in which there was a small but not hopeless quantity of salty meat and slightly dry vegetables. She pumped water into it from an old hand-pump outside the walls as Mark sat within and examined his bonds fruitlessly for weaknesses. He found none yet, but he had at least a night to work at it. Sieran soon returned with the pot and in a little while it was full of thin but edible soup. She tossed a handful of rather suspicious herbs in a bowl and poured some soup in it, then held it up to Mark. "Drink it. You'll appreciate the effects..." Mark opened his lips to drink, and then whipped his chin up and spilled the bowl. Hot soup poured all over his seated body, soaking his trousers and briefs. Sieran almost struck him with the metal bowl, then stopped.

"You stubborn bastard. That was your only food tonight. Now it's all over you..." Her eyes ran across his soaked clothing. "Well, we'll have to take those off to dry, now won't we?"

She quickly untied his legs, but left his arms and waist tied to the wall where she'd put him. Then she stood up. Ever so slowly, the consummate performer, she inched the zipper of her jumpsuit down her chest. Mark closed his eyes, trying not to be turned on. It did no good; he could still remember the swell of her smooth, heavy breasts, pale and luminous, under her clothes. The zipper clicked quietly away, moment by moment revealing more and more of her glorious chest to Mark's mind. He fought to maintain control of himself. The curves of her cleavage... click... her round, pink nipples... click... suck large, lovely globes... click... the nipples standing erect, hard and flushed... click...

Sieran's nipples weren't the only things hard and flushed. Mark groaned quietly as his cock jumped and twisted in his pants, pushing against them. He twitched in surprise when he suddenly felt hands on his legs. He opened his eyes, and there was Sieran, beautiful red hair falling like a stream of flame into her pronounced cleavage, no longer restrained within her clothes. Her hands kneaded his thighs through the soup-dampened fabric of his trousers. She reached up and pushed the jumpsuit off her shoulders, fully exposing her wondrous mounds. She ran her hands back down her body, showcasing her fantastic figure. They came back up to her breasts, stroking them with her hair, tickling her nipples, rubbing the silken strands on her sensitive skin. Mark could imagine what that soft hair and smooth skin would feel like on his own body. She lifted her breasts in her hands, pressing them together, offering them to him, and he knew he couldn't resist this woman.

Not that he had much choice, he remembered, as she leaned forward and began opening his pants. His arms remained tied securely to the wall, and while he could kick her away once, she was in charge now, and he couldn't keep stopping her. She knelt over him, sliding his trousers off, exposing his thick, stiff cock, aching for sexual release. Her smile widened as she saw it. If anything, it looked even larger than this afternoon. She glided forward over his legs, bringing her breasts down to rub ever so lightly against it. "I guess you ruined your dinner for nothing. Well, I can see you don't like boys. I'm glad; it's ever so much nicer to have an appreciative partner." She slithered up his body, tracing out the lines of his soldier's muscles with her hands.