Carole awoke to pain such as she'd never felt before in her life. Every muscle in her body hurt, but it was her cunt and asshole that were in the worst shape. Her cunt still throbbed from the pull of that damned vibrator. She had thought it would have stimulated her, made her feel more relaxed, better. It hadn't. It had hurt when Mr. Strong shoved it in and hurt even worse after he left it running inside her pussy.
As to her asshole, the merest thought of it sent knives of pain into her body. The way he had brutally butt fucked her made the pain all the worse. Gingerly exploring, she decided nothing had been ripped. She was still intact but aching like hell.
She rolled over on the bed, wondering who had put her in it. She was still dressed in the corset, garter belt and black stockings but the panties were gone. She guessed that Mr. Strong might have ripped them off he while he had been greeking her. She vaguely remembered a tearing sensation and thought it might have been the panties.
The way they had cut into her pussy mound made her instinctively reach down and stroke across the fleecy patch of coppery red, crinkly pubic hair. Her entire bush ached – it seemed even the very tips of the cunt hair hurt, too. She stroked across the mound and felt the hair flutter against her fingertips. This worked out some of the soreness she felt there from where the panties had cut so brutally into her.
Much to her surprise, her clit slowly rose as she pushed her pubic bone down hard. She gently stroked the little organ and was rewarded with a surge of pleasure. Sighing, she leaned back on the bed, trying to ignore the dog collar still around her neck, and began masturbating. She'd never done it like this before.
But she was learning new things from Mr. Strong and this was one of them. She didn't know why she couldn't get off when he fucked her, but that didn't bother her. Not as long as she could stroke along her own pea-size clit and give herself the pleasure that he denied her.
Carole closed her eyes and thought about Clive. The man had seemed to be like the others, harsh and callous and uncaring. He had shown her the only kindness since she'd been sold into this sex slavery by her father. Sucking him off in the car had seemed degrading at the time but now she longed to do it again. She wanted to thank him for all he had tried to do for her.
The girl stroke more vigorously on her clit, starting at the base and working to the very tip. A light flick of her finger across the tiny point sent icy jolts of joy into her tortured body. She stroked faster. The way her cunt spilled over its fuck fluids, helped her lubricate the tiny spire of sensitive flesh so she wouldn't chafe it.
"Ummm, oh, Clive darling," she moaned low and sincere. "I wish you were here so we could fuck, I mean really fuck!"
Thoughts of the man's strong body coming down on hers, his cock driving hard for her gaping, wanton cunt, thrilled her. She stroked harder on her clitoris until the savage desire mounted to the point of explosion in her body. No matter what Mr. Strong or Miss Olson did to her, they couldn't take this pleasure away.
She worked harder on the pea-sized organ until she climaxed. She sobbed and rolled from side to side on the bed, her hand working feverishly on her clit. Then, all too soon, the sensation died down in her body. But it had been enough to take her mind off the aches and pains inside. Her pussy had begun to drool and that actually felt good. It relieved some of the hollow feeling. For a while.
Carole cried herself to sleep again thinking about all that she had lost, the pain she had suffered, the imprisonment ahead of her. She didn't know how long she slept again but the slightest noise of the door opening awakened her.
"Mr. Strong," she said, surprised. She had been dreaming about more pleasant people than him.
"I see you have recovered from your little educational lesson." He landed the riding crop across his hand a few times with resounding whacks to let her know that he could control her movement whenever he wanted. The words came to her like a death sentence. Whatever he wanted from her, she wasn't sure she wanted to deliver.
But she knew she wouldn't have any choice in the matter.
"On your feet," he commanded. The look on his face made her spring to her feet so fast she almost choked. The chain fastened to the dog collar made her feel more like an animal than anything else.
"What are you going to do to me? I demand to know!" She tried to show a brave front but she knew that it was all bluster. This strong, dominant man held all the cards and could play them whenever he desired. It was obvious to her that he wanted to play a few right now.
"See the chains dangling from the ceiling?" She looked up for the first time and saw a series of rings hanging from above. From each was a short length of chain ending in a padded cuff. She didn't have to ask what went into those handcuffs. The use was obvious. Her eyes made a quick appraisal of the distance from cuff to floor and she figured she couldn't possibly be expected to survive anything like that. Her toes would hardly touch the floor.
That didn't stop him from suspending her from the chains, though. Carole fought but he was too strong for her. The girl managed to rake her fingernails along his arm but the bloody tracks she left seemed to spur him on rather than stop him. He fastened her left hand into one of the cuffs, then lifted her and inserted her tight wrist into another of the padded handcuffs. The leather was soft, almost sensual, against her wrists after the harsh binding she had suffered with the ropes.
But there was a catch. There always was when Mr. Strong had anything to do with it.
Her toes barely touched the floor.
She was, pulled out as straight as an arrow and stood precariously perched on tiptoe. Mr. Strong studied her for a moment and smiled his cruel smile. Carole knew that he saw and knew what running through her mind.
She was as helpless as any woman could be. And there was no doubt in the girl's mind that she presented an appealing picture to the man. The position he had her stretched into caused her tits to flare up and over the top of the black corset. Her nipples were a bright red and looked like fingers pointing at the man. Each time her heart beat she could feel it all the way through her jugs and the nipples might have been safety valves.
Her waist had never been slimmer and the strain on her legs and toes tightened the muscles attractively. Even her ass tensed up as she tried to stand on her toes. Without a doubt, her leg and ass muscles would begin to hurt like the devil in a few minutes. Mr. Strong forced her into a position where the strain would cause the maximum amount of pain and do the least amount of damage.
"Hang loose," he said as he left.
She couldn't believe the man was leaving her dangling from the chains like this. She turned in time to see him pass through the door. The motion carried her around just enough to see herself in the full length mirror. Her suspicions had been correct. Her tits were flattened a little more than she'd expected but the blood was pounding hard into them and made them all the more attractive. Her skin was flushed and her hips seemed firmer.
The weight of her body hung heavily on her shoulders and joints. She took scant pleasure in seeing her naked pussy flashing pinkly between the black silk stockings or the fact that her legs had never been more attractive. The muscles in her thighs and calves began to knot as she tried to stand on her toes. It would have been better if he'd simply hung her from the ceiling so that her toes didn't touch the floor at all. But that would have made it too easy on her.
Mr Strong never did things by half measures.
She began to cry as the pain slithered up her legs like some horrid snake intent on devouring her tender young body. By the time she was trembling in ill-suppressed rage and pain, Mr. Strong came back in. He walked around her, studying her.
"Yes, I think you're about ready. You understand that pain is necessary. Without pain you can never know true pleasure. There isn't any other comparison possibly. Understand pain and know the greatest pleasures of any human on this planet."
"You bastard!" she gasped out. "Why are you doing this to me? I hate you! I hate you!"
"Why am I doing this? I just told you. For your education in matters of a sexual nature. Pain, you have that. Pleasure, that is to come. Now we must find some way of fine tuning your nerves. Most women respond only to the coarsest of stimuli. You, however, are to be trained to respond to the lightest touch, the most fleeting pleasure possible."
She watched in mute horror as he took a long feather from an inside pocket and drew it between his fingers a few times. "Yes, a simple feather. Nothing else."
And then he lightly ran it along the line of her jaw. She tossed her head and sent a cascade of bright red hair showering down into her eyes. He pushed the hair back with the feather. The teenager could hardly stand the feel of it. The feather might have been dipped in acid for the response it caused in her body.
"Yes, you begin to understand, don't you? The feather stimulates in ways totally at odds with the pain you feel. Yet you can tolerate both and the effects blur. Pleasure and pain become one. Like this."
He flicked the feather across her aroused nipples. She came. The entire universe exploded around the girl in the suddenness of her orgasm. The light touch of the feather against her nipples set her off again and again until she swung heavily from the padded cuffs.
"See? It can be paradise. Or torture."
The feather sought to steak along the line between the black comet and the top of her pussy mound. She cringed and actually screamed. It felt as if the man used a scalpel to cut her open. The feather which had given her intense pleasure before now gave only pain.
"A matter of knowing where to apply the feather. You didn't seem to like that. How about this?"
The feather inched lower, dragged delightfully over her clit and when he began stroking back and forth along her sex gash, she came again. The top of her head felt as if it blew off, so great was the orgasm. And he didn't stop. The feather continued to work against her cunt lips, teasing, tickling, tonying with the rigid flaps of delicate flesh. He duelled lightly with her clit again and sent her soaring off to the heights of human pleasure.
She closed her eyes tightly and allowed the delightful feelings to totally possess her. The pain from the stretching was almost gone as far as she could tell. All that mattered was the man and the feather, the way he was drawing it along her most sensitive flesh. When he attempted to get the tip of the feather into her asshole, she came again. While her asscheeks were tightly clenched against that possibility, the light caresses of the feather made her respond fully.
The girl actually swung back and forth in the chains as she came and felt no pain. Then the feather vanished. It wasn't stroking her nipples or her clit. Her cunt lips no longer responded to its teasing touch. She had been abandoned once again.
"See what I meant about learning to respond fully?" he taunted her. She almost cried aloud when she felt the chains lengthening on her wrists. The agony rocketing into her legs blotted out any feeling of achievement, however. The pain was too intense for her to stand. She collapsed to the floor, her hands still pulled above her head by the cuffs.
"Suck my cock while you're down there," came the cold order. She blinked twice to make sure he was actually saying such a thing. Suck his prick? After he had torutured her?
Or was it torture? She'd gotten off on the feather more than she had any other thing he'd done to her. Pleasure more intense than any she'd ever felt before had been hers. Maybe it could be again – if she obeyed this strange, dark-visaged, gaunt man.
The cock was in front of her lips, limp as a sleeping snake. She managed to get closer to it, the chains restricting her movement a little bit. The tip of his prick sucked into her mouth easily and, once there, she began to chew and gnaw gently on it. She was immediately rewarded by its stiffening response.
"Ummm, you do that well dye was right. You are most expert at giving head. But there is so much I can teach you about this particular art. Ummm, yes, yes! That is good but you must use your tongue more. Ah, that is exactly what I like!"
She ran her rough, pink tongue around the rim of his prick and teased it erect. When her mouth overflowed with the man's ponderous cock, she began bobbing her head up and down, fucking her own face. The big shaft easily split her lips apart. When the purpled glans bounced off the roof of her mouth, she gulped.
The cock ran all the way down into her throat.
The girl fought down the urge to choke. After a brief moment of panic, the instant passed. She rose up and twisted around slightly to make sure that his prick remained lodged firmly behind her Adam's apple. Swallowing a couple times seemed to stimulate him. The bouncing Adam's apple pressed directly into the most sensitive portion of his prick.
"I like that. Shows imagination. Keep going!" he urged her. She wanted to tell him off but decided it was better to keep her mouth working on his cock. She vividly remembered the pain he could inflict with the riding crop still dangling from his fingers.
She finally had to back off enough to let the cock slide from her throat. Gasping in deep draughts of air, she filled her lungs and then began face fucking mote avidly – and found herself being pulled erect by the chains around her wrists.
She fought hard to keep her lips pressed to the very end of the man's cock and failed. The chains on her wrists tightened and pulled her entirely erect again until she was precariously balanced on tiptoe.
"There, that should be enough fellatio to get me interested in other orifices in your body." He stroked with the feather along her belly. Again she felt a stab of pain. The pain was instantly replaced by a shuddery feeling deep in her cunt when he moved the attentions of the feather down to her clit again. "Nice, isn't it. And it will be even nicer!"
He moved behind her. She felt his long, eager prick seeking her cunt from the rear. Then he stabbed up and forward. His fleshy sword of prick sheated itself fully in her cunt.
The girl's senses exploded in orgasm. The sudden entry shouldn't have done anything but give her pain. It had made her come instead. The man had skillfully coaxed the desired reaction from her body, as if by magic. She was sobbing and shaking from the reaction when she realized his prick was slowly slipping from her agitated pussy.
"Stop! Don't take it out! Leave it in my cunt! I need your big, swollen prick in me! Meeee!"
"Ah, there is the secret. I shall fuck you with my cock in the way I decide is best."
He reached down and placed his hands just above the tops of her black silk stockings. Lifting her body slightly, he swung her forward. This placed her pussy directly in line with his jutting prick. And then he rammed into her cunt as hard as he could.
The impact of his prick into her pussy jarred the girl's teeth. She moaned loudly, wondering if anyone would ever hear her cries if she screamed. The redhead decided no one would care. Or Miss Olson would hear and come to gloat over the girl's predicament.
"Now we wing it. How does it feel to be suspended only by your wrists – and my prick?" he demanded. Words failed the girl. She tried to sort out all her feelings and got lost in the tangled emotions.
Swinging her to and from pulled her on and off his prick like some sort of plastic dummy. She couldn't control anything in the fucking. Moving around was almost impossible for her. She was tightly fastened to the chains overhead and the way he held her prevented her from kicking out. He could fuck her from behind all day long and she wouldn't be able to do a damned thing to either fight him off or to respond.
Never had she felt quite so helpless. The man was capable of making her come. He could grant her the ultimate in human pleasure with the lightest of strokes from a feather or his prick. But that seemed to be something he seldom considered. He seemed to get more of a kick out of her helplessness than anything else.
She tensed her pussy as he pulled her backwards. A groan from the man's lips was all the reward she got. He allowed her to swing freely forward off his cock. She let the bulbous head of his prick leave her pussy lips. She thought he might be ending the fucking. The teenager found out how wrong she was.
The instant his prick felt the cool air of the room, he jumped up and stuffed his prick back into her cunt with all the force he could summon. The cock shot up into her twat at a new and deliciously different angle. This entry made the skin around her clit taut. The tiny little pillar of clit poked up to see what was happening and received a healthy stroking from the moving skin all around her snatch.
The tiny fingers of desire crept into her belly and began to squeeze down. She fought to restrain the beginnings of another come in her loins. She didn't want the man to feel he was totally in control of her. Trying hard to maintain one tiny portion of her self-esteem, she lost the battle. She came again as his prick plunged deeply into her well-greased channel of lust.
"Very good. You are responding favorably," he said in a voice that was as level as when he'd walked into the room. She wondered wildly if he felt a damned thing from the fucking. Was he made of stone? Was that really a flesh and blood prick be was jamming into her pussy or had he replaced his cock with a clever plastic prosthetic? From the way he sounded, he was getting no charge at all from the fucking.
Carole hardly believed the man to be human when she realized that.
He swung her, to and from, then from side to side. Her body began to spiral and twist around his cock. She literally screwed herself on his throbbing, straining prick. When he began rising and lowering his body – perhaps lifting himself up on his own toes – she felt as if a sledgehammer was pounding her body.
Every nerve sang a song of joy. She couldn't believe the agony of being dangled from her wrists like this could blossom and spring out into such delight. The soft feel of the sexy silk against her legs helped, as did the corset supporting the undersides of her ample tits. She could feel excited blood pounding wildly in her temples, droning out just about everything in the room. It sounded to her as if drums were beating.
She came again. Her cunt squeezed down powerfully on the man's hidden prick, and she managed to get a tiny little twitch that it that hadn't been there before. She began squeezing down on his prick as hard as she could. With her almost-virgin twat, she could compress any man's prick to an impossibly small diameter.
"Very good," he congratulated her. She couldn't see his face. Was he sweating like she was from the fucking? Was he responding? Did he have problems now controlling his come? Was her eager massage of his prick using her cunt muscles doing a number on the man?
She didn't know. As long as he stood behind her, he was a sinister figure, maybe not quite human, aloof and unknown. But she could try. She used her every wile to make the man come. She knew only two others – her father and Clive. But she remembered those fuckings vividly. Both were etched in her mind for totally different reasons.
The girl still couldn't believe her father had raped her as he had. But every time he had thrust into her virgin cunt, she had remembered what it was like. That had been the time her cherry had been popped. And Clive! His fucking had lifted her out of the depths of a depression and shown her that fucking could be fun. She wished that he'd been the one to pop her cherry. With him it would have been exciting.
Those were the only two men she'd known up her cunt. Mr. Strong was the third and she lacked the experience to tell if she was exciting him or not. She used her every trick to make sure she was. Tensing and relaxing her cunt walls seemed to drive Clive wild with desire. She tried that. Mr. Strong grunted once but his rhythm of fucking didn't increase or change much.
When he swung her around so that he could drive that hot spike of cock flesh into her steamy cunt from a different angle, she changed her tactics again. She relaxed as he drove in and tightened her cunt as much as possible as he withdrew.
For a moment, she thought she had trapped him. His prick actually stopped for a split second. Then her own body betrayed her. The thick lubricating oils from her pussy made his cock too slippery to grip. He slid on out of her twat.
But soon, she thought she detected another change in his style. His prick actually seemed to grow inside her. She redoubled her efforts to hang on as her body swung back and forth on his piston of cock. When she was certain his cock had almost doubled in size, she guessed he was going to come.
The man's actions began to take on a ragged, erratic pattern. He jammed forward spastically as if losing control. She gave his cock the most erotic massage possible and found herself empty. His prick was no longer fucking her cunt. He had pulled out and left her achingly hollow inside.
"What? What's wrong?" she cried out piteously. Her own desires were building again. The feel of a cock powerfully stroking into her was necessary to get off. She needed that sexual release. Nothing else would free her cunt from the tight feelings.
But Mr. Strong was gone. She heard the door slam. Carole hung from the chains and sobbed loudly. Had she displeased him? Was something the matter with her that he despised her, that he toyed with her, then discarded her? She fell asleep hanging from the ceiling.