Lost At Sea

Chris marched towards the tree line, leading Scarlett by a leash which he had attached to her collar. He had a bad feeling in his guts and was of course worried about the young woman, but did not allow himself turning around to check on her: He suspected a Native on lookout might be able to spot them already, and one such Native might get suspicious if he saw that Chris showed too much sympathy for his 'cattle'. Their plan was already risky enough without alarming the Natives even further, and so Chris, who did not want to get pierced by arrows or spears, just kept looking straight ahead, no matter how much he pitied the panting, grunting woman who followed him across the wasteland.

And it was out of the question that there were good reasons to pity Scarlett: The cruel bondage that constricted her poor arms and elbows, her shoulders and essentially - in the form of the strict harness - her whole torso. It made walking hard enough for her already that way. But Chris had further mimicked the restraints of the Natives' prisoners by hobbling Scarlett's ankles with an additional strap. Now her freedom of movement was reduced even more. She had a harder time keeping up with his slow pace than she would have had anyways, and from time to time she stumbled in the sand and produced gagged, tortured noises while she fought to regain her balance with the annoying hobble-strap between her naked feet.

Chris also knew that Scarlett's arm-bondage brought her to a physical limit: She sometimes made an elongated whining noise behind him, a wailing sound of tortured defiance. Whenever he heard that special noise Chris instinctively understood that the strain on her arms had gotten too much for Scarlett and that she was fighting to get them into a position that would again be bearable for the next few minutes. The longer they walked the more often she had to adjust. The pain in her arms had to be torturous by now.

Also adding to Scarlett's plight, Chris had put the old backpack - the one that he had once found among the flotsam and since then used for collecting things - on the girl. The backpack was yet only filled with some empty bottles and cans that might later be handy for collecting water at the lake, but even though it didn't have much weight it was definitely not making things more comfortable for Scarlett. Chris would have felt much better had he been allowed to carry the backpack himself, but doing so would be even more risky than a simple, affectionate look back at the poor woman: If he carried the backpack himself then the Natives would instantly know that they were being fooled. The consequences of their anger could be very dire for Chris and Scarlett. Thus, it didn't matter how bad he felt about it: Playing their roles as convincing as possible was, at least at the moment, a lot more important than Scarlett's comfort and emancipation.

They left the dunes behind them and reached a patch of land where there appeared the first higher bushes and green plants. The forest was close now - and for the first time Chris permitted himself to turn his head and look back at the girl he was leading around like a trapped beast.

What he saw shocked him more than he had expected and nearly made him cry out loud: Scarlett was literally bathed in sweat, so much that the belts, straps and ropes that restrained her appeared to be soaking wet. She had drooled a lot, droplets of sweat and foam from her mouth mixing on her chin. Her tongue slid out from beneath the mouthpiece in a weirdly animalistic attempt to wipe some of the saliva and sweat away, but was just a bit too short as to offer the poor woman any real relief. She was, in short, foaming and steaming like a horse after an exhausting day of training. She also looked like she had been crying - from pain or anger or both - during their trip across the wasteland.

His determination to not show any affection for Scarlett was blown away by the pityful sight that she presented: Chris couldnt help but approach her. As he did, he smelled the metallic, salty odor of her exhaustion. Scarlett blinked some of the tears and sweat away and obviously tried to be a trooper when she saw the way he looked at her: She straightened her back a little and made an attempt to look less beaten than she actually was.

"Let me see your arms", Chris said under his breath. His bad conscience made him feel like the world's biggest asshole for what he had done to this poor woman. Even though he was still scared about getting killed he had to fight down the impulse to just take Scarlett, free her and show any watchers hidden in the forest both middlefingers.

"Turn around and let me see your arms", he repeated when Scarlett hesitated. Maybe she was thinking what he had thought before: That the showing of sympathy might get him killed very fast. "Come on, don't worry", he insisted. "They'll think I'm just checking on your bondage. Making sure that you can't free yourself and that it's still all in place. Use the time I buy you to catch your breath. It's the least I can do."

She nodded, thankful and humiliated at the same time. She turned around for him so that Chris could check on her bondage, and to his relief the setup seemed to work as intended: The bonds had not seriously damaged Scarlett's arms. Sure, the belts and straps bit deep into her skin, and also her muscles twitched and shuddered from the constant strain and discomfort, but no real harm had been done so far. "I can't loosen those bonds", he mumbled softly so that she would be able to hear him, but hopefully no one else would realze he was talking to her. "I know it's tight, but it has to stay like this for some more time."

"Ghuugh....!" Scarlett snorted and produced a protesting noise. "Hggh...ghhuuugh...ngaagh...!"

"I know it must be exhausting, but I can't offer you any relief! The Natives' females are, if you want me to be honest, tied a lot stricter than you. If I treat you any, ehm, nicer then I may as well beg these guys to kill me right here and right now."

He didn't know if the sound that Scarlett produced now was something like the gagged, exhausted version of a cynical laugh, but he thought that it might very well be. And that was good because he needed her to keep her humor. As long as they could see the comical side of all this weird bullshit there was a chance that they got through their surreal adventure without going insane.

"You'll be fine, I promise. Look over there! We are already close to the forest. Only ten more minutes and we will have reached the lake."

He could see in her eyes how nervous she was. This was, after all, the moment of truth: Would they be spotted? Would they be attacked? Or would the natives let them collect what they needed? However crazy this plan was, if it worked it would save both their lives. In Scarlett's glance there was the same tension that Chris felt too, and again he felt closer to her than he had ever felt to a human being in his life.

Instinctively and without caring what the Natives would think he used his hand to wipe some of the sweat and drool off her face. Since he couldn't hug or kiss Scarlett, Chris did the best other thing he could think of to show her his support: He stroked her cheek, just for a second, and then patted her shoulder like a horseman would pat his favorite mares' side. It wasn't exactly a normal gesture, but Chris hoped the message was clear.

"Let's go." Chris tugged the leash and turned around, and behind him Scarlett moaned and coughed and got moving again.


(SCARLETT'S viewpoint)

The heat... oh the fucking heat and how the sun burnt on Scarlett's skin, how it made her arms heavy and her head throb! The way those straps bit into her arms, how they pressed into her flesh and tortured her! It had only taken her about fifty meters of walking in the restraints to realize how cruel they really were, how they forced the victim to waddle instead of walking, how clumsy it made her feel not being able to use her arms as counterweights to her movements.

The sun was relentless, the straps chafed her skin, the gag... she hated the gag so much! It tasted bad and made her drool like a cow, it made breathing harder too. The smell of her foaming drool and her sweat was like a cloud that surrounded her and she hated it too, essentially because it made her feel like a piece of cattle for real. She had never before experienced droplets of sweat falling off her nipples, but now it happened every few seconds!

Scarletts arms were in constant pain, like in a workout that didn't end. There was no way to put them in any comfortable position; every few minutes she just had to choose another sort of discomfort. The angry, exhausted, frustrated grunts that came out of her gagged mouth were maybe the worst: She had never been gagged before and hated the way she sounded now, so reduced and dumbed-down. It was degrading through and through and filled her so much with contempt that she bit even harder on the rubber wedge between her teeth, spiteful and angry, leaving small teeth marks in the durable substance.

And Chris did not talk to her and did not turn while he kept leading her across the wasteland -while the backpack that he had secured on her back got heavier by the minute! From a certain point on all that Scarlett did was concentrate on her feet and on not losing her balance. She did not know how much time passed while she stumbled onward like that, cursing herself for designing a plan that was so stupid and demeaning and painful.

Finally Chris stopped and she could stand there and pant, moan, groan, cough. He turned to look at her and she saw the pity on his face. But that didn't help her at all, because it just showed how defeated she had to look for him to make such a grimace. When he approached her - when he told her she should turn and let him check on her bonds, and that she should use the time to catch her breath - she hoped against hope that he would pity her enough to loosen those motherfucking fucking bonds, if only a little.

But he did not do that, of course - he just checked them and did not move a finger to change anything of the setup even though he had to see how painful it was for her! One part of her was proud of him, because he did manage to be as tough as she had explicitly asked him to be. Still... when he told her that he could not grant her even an inch of additional freedom she could not hold back the bitter laughter that came out as a snort.

"Ghuugh....!" (Sure, this meant). "Hggh...ghhuuugh...ngaagh...!"( You say you can't, but what you mean is that you just won't, even though you fucking well could!)

Then he pointed at the forest and, following his finger with her eyes, she realized how close they already were. Chris was right - only five to ten more minutes and they would reach the shadows of the first trees. She just had not realized it because she had been too occupied with her own condition.

And then, when they reached the forest? Scarlett needed water and food more than she had ever before in her life. She knew there was no turning back now. But she was also so scared. What if the Natives attacked? What if something else went wrong?

Suddenly Chris touched her face and began wiping some of the snot and tears away. It was humiliating, but she still enjoyed the reconsolidation of his touch. Only when he patted her shoulder as if she was a damn horse there was a new sting to her pride.

But before she had more time to think about it, Chris had already turned around and was walking towards the forest again, and all she could do was follow. Scarlett stumbled after him as good as she could, watching him from behind and hoping that they would survive this day and that, when the sun set, they would be back at their camp, laughing about the crazy stunt they had pulled to get fresh food on their non-existent plates.