Mistress Talia: a sadistic domme

The harvest had been huge this year and Suzanne had spent weeks putting it up: canning and dehydrating vegetables, shucking corn, cleaning wheat berries and dried beans, canning and salting the beef and pigs her father had slaughtered, organizing the squash and apples in the root cellar.

Since they needed supplies before winter set in, she was going to town today. After cleaning up from their pancake breakfast, she dressed in her white slip and blouse, pink pinafore matching bonnet, and shiny black ankle boots, feeling festive. This errand was a treat she was looking forward to, a day off the homestead and out of the kitchen. And Father had even said she could buy some of that bolt of cloth she'd had her eye on, with the lovely tiny rose pattern! That would make a gorgeous new dress for her.

Father was using the strong team to haul trees out of the woods today, in preparation for a week of splitting next week, so she took the lighter team. The drive in was about an hour long, not because they were so far out of town, but because of the large hill, almost a mountain, that had required a long curving detour between her home and town. The road wasn't maintained very well either as there were only a handful of families that had homesteaded north of town. Still her heart was light as the horses jauntily pranced in the sunshine towards town.

She went to the miller's first, leaving the corn and wheat to be ground, which his son said would be ready by after lunch. Then she went to the general store for salt, sugar and coffee. She chatted the storekeeper's wife about the lovely fabric as she rang up her purchases, wondering if she should make a jumper or a long-sleeve dress. Then she went out to the wagon to eat her sandwich as she waited for the miller to call her. It was more overcast now, and given that the ride home was heading north, it looked like it'd be considerably chillier than the ride down had been.

The miller's son came to call her and she drove the wagon into his barn so he could load up her flour and cornmeal. It felt very satisfying to know that everything she needed to do was done for the winter.

She thanked the miller's boy and started her team off towards home. About five minutes into the trip, it began raining and her mood began to fall. The rain was cold against the back of her neck and she encouraged the team along before it got any worse.

They entered the curve surrounding the mountain, and Suzanne saw something in the road. She yelled and pulled on the reins before she even saw what it was; as the wagon slowed she saw it was a tree down across the road. As the wagon came to a stop, she hopped down to survey the damage, to see if she could get around. If there was no way around, she'd have to unhitch the mare and ride home to get her father with the heavy team to clear the road, a nasty job to deal with in the cold November rain.

She was frustrated and annoyed as she walked past the team, when suddenly from the side of the hill, a man emerged. He was tall, probably blond if he'd been a bit cleaner, it was hard to tell. He tipped his hat and asked, "Need some help, ma'am?" as he approached her, and she briefly felt relief at the thought of being rescued.

But then two other men followed the first, and they looked intimidating. The first was short and dark and wore a sullen scowl. The second was dark also, tall and stocky, and he leered at her in a way that made her spine crawl, giving an altogether more menacing meaning to the first man's words.

"I do seem to have a challenge getting this wagon past this log," she replied, "If you could help me get home, I'm sure my father would reward you. We're only up the road about twenty minutes or so. I'd be much obliged; you could even all stay for supper," she said, hoping she was keeping the quiver out of her voice.

"I had another kind of help in mind, ma'am," said the leader as he winked at her.

She hesitated, wondering if she was overreacting, if she was perhaps mistaking undue familiarity with an outright threat. "But I'd love to have you gentleman as guests in my home, " she argued as they continued to approach her.

The first man smiled queerly and the leering man chuckled at this. This was definitly looking threatening. She looked around, realizing she couldn't get to the horse or unhitch it before they reached her, so she lifted her skirts and ran.

She ran as fast as she could, struck with terror. Her heart raced and she kept running; her lungs began to burn; and she kept on. As she ran her bonnet flew off and her hair tumbled down. Afraid to even take the time to look back to see if they were pursuing her, she ran on and on; ran for her life.

Her foot landed in a depression and her ankle twisted, and as she stumbled, she felt a hand grab a handful of her hair and yank hard. As her head jerked back, a nasty voice whispered, "Now that wasn't very polite, ma'am." He threw her to the ground as the other men approached.

The leering man snarled, "That wasn't very nice, making us run like that" as he kicked her in the ribs with his pointy-toed boots, knocking the wind out of her. The scowling man remained silent, matter-of-fact, as he grabbed her hands, pulled them behind her and tied them with a rope. Her face pushed into the dirt, her dress torn, the leering man kicked her again and again. "That's enough now," said the first man and the kicks ceased.

The scowling man picked her up and flung her over his shoulder and began carrying her back towards the road. She struggled and kicked, trying to get free. She felt her hair yanked again and looked up into the eyes of the first man, who slapped her face and told her, "And that's enough from you too."

The leering man arrived back at the wagon first and dumped a bag of flour out. When the scowler got there with his burden, the sack was placed over her head. She was then thrown over the back of a horse which then galloped off.

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