Carole awoke to the throbbing of her shoulder muscles. Never had she experienced such agony. This went past mere pain and all the way into something just one step removed from death itself. Her shoulder muscles were knotted and quivering and her elbows felt as if they had been pulled loose from her arms entirely.
Most of all was the pain that lanced up from each of her toes. Trying to stand on tiptoe to relieve some of the pressure on her arms became unbearable. She wished she didn't have to put up with this. But thinking about her predicament only increased the pain. Sharp needles danced along her trim calves and stabbed hard into her thighs and ass. She tensed and relaxed the muscles the beet she could, but that didn't accomplish very much.
"Why me?" she moaned aloud, hoping someone would hear and take mercy on her. No one seemed to be in the room. Swinging around, she managed to look at herself in the full length mirror. Much to her surprise, she didn't look all that bad.
While her hair was a wild red disarray and there were dark circles under her eyes, she looked little different from when Mr. Strong had strung her up on the chains. The padded cuffs prevented much bruising and he hadn't really tortured her. Just a little tickling with the feather…
She shivered at the thought of the pain and pleasure he had given her with that one little motion. It seemed as if sensation was stirring again in her cunt from where he had lightly drawn the feather across her pussy lips. She was actually getting hot thinking about what he had done to her.
And the fucking! She didn't know whether to thank the man or kill him for that. She'd gotten off at unexpected times, but he had denied her the final satisfaction of a climax. That had left her needy and wanting. Her entire body had hurt, bit the crying hunger in her cunt was the worst of all. She hadn't been able to get a nice, realistic relationship built up with anyone except Clive. Only he had given her pleasure when she needed it. Miss Olson took a fiendish delight in tormenting her, and Mr. Strong was even worse. His cold blooded calculating desire to humiliate her seemed like a general's battle plan.
She tossed her head and felt the chain snap hard. She swallowed hard and tugged futilely at the dog collar around her neck. A quick study of it told Carole that it was impossible for her to break the thick leather band or snap the metal links of the chain. As long as it was in place, she wouldn't be able to stray more than a few paces from the bed. She couldn't even reach the window and took out.
The girl tried to analyze what all had happened and found it jumbled up in her head. She didn't even know where she was. The huge mansion of Mr. Strong might be anywhere within an hour's drive of her house – or a day's drive. The time spent in the silent, gliding Rolls Royce that had brought her here seemed unreal. When she wasn't feeling sorry for herself on that trip, she had been sucking off Clive.
The door opened and she turned to see Mr. Strong standing in the doorway, hands on his hips. She swallowed hard and self consciously her hand went to the collar around her neck. She hadn't realized how attractive the man could be.
Slim waist, powerful arms, massive chest, he looked like some God leaping from the pages of a history book. He had oiled his body and it gleamed in the dim light. Something stirred in the girl's body and made her begin to respond to him. She hated herself for it but she couldn't hold don the rising tide of passion she felt for him.
"Axe you going to do… that… to me again?" she asked, her voice almost breaking from nervous strain. Her wrists were still bruised lightly from where the cuffs had circled them and her shoulder muscles knotted painfully at the mere thought of being strung up like a side of beef.
"Do that again? Of course not. I explore. I experiment. I try to find the things that will give us both the maximum amount of pleasure. Consider me a scientist pushing back the dark frontiers of human experience."
"You mean you get your kicks torturing me in different ways each time?"
"Torture? Nothing of the sort. Don't lie and tell me you didn't enjoy that little session we had. I can't tolerate a liar."
She pursed her lips and began to feel stubborn. Yes, she had enjoyed parts of the fucking. But she wasn't going to admit that to him. That would degrade her even more than he was now. The mere idea that a man could do such a thing to her made her angry.
"I hated it!" she cried. "And I hate you!"
"Ah, you're lying on both counts. You loved it when I fucked your ass. You might have felt a little pain to begin with, but it was a new and wondrous experience. And hate when you refer to me? Hardly." His muscles flexed and she licked her lips as she saw the powerful play of sinews under his oiled skin.
"What are you going to do?"
"What are you going to do, master. That is the proper way of addressing me from here on; I think you will have to be shown respect and only a dominant attitude will suffice."
"What?"
"What, master," he said. "And that's the last time I will tell you. The next lapse of respect will cause me to discipline you. Severely."
"Go to hell, you miserable little turd! I hate the sight of you!"
She rolled over turning her back to him. And immediately found herself sliding across the bed at the end of the chain. She choked as he yanked hard on the cable but couldn't even utter a cry of rage. The words were stifled while in her throat.
"I warned you, slave. Now I must punish you." Quick hands produced a length of rope and he began wrapping the cord around her ankles. She fought. Kicking out, she landed blow after blow on his powerful body. He didn't even seem to notice although several bruises, green and blue and ugly, began to appear on his chest.
"Stop it, you son of a bitch! Stop it!" she screamed. She used her fingers to rake and claw for his eyes. He deftly avoided her. She cried out again as he managed to tie each, of her legs to the headboard of the bed. She was bent double again. Twisting to one side hoping to turn on the bed and escape the pretzel position, the girl rapidly found this was impossible. The chain around her neck threatened to strangle her.
As she struck out wildly at him, he snared first one wrist and then the other. Quick loops of rope tied them above her head. She was now firmly held on the bed, on her back, so that her hands and feet were both above her head. In this position, her legs were held straight and her cunt was widely exposed to whatever horrible things he wanted to do.
"Why are you doing this?"
"I am your master," came the slow response. "As soon as you learn that, perhaps then we shall do other things. Until then, you must be punished."
"I won't say it – ever! I'll die first!"
"That might be ranged." The words chilled the girl. She was just beginning to feel the effects of the position he had tied her in. The strain was across her stomach. She rolled backwards as much as she could and put some of the weight on her shoulders. This opened her pussy to his erotic exploration even more but she didn't care. Anything to stop the pain beginning to form in her gut.
He lightly stroked over her gaping pussy lips. A finger shot into her pussy, then came out, almost dry. "You must become more aroused when in my presence. Your master commands it."
She glared at him but didn't say a word. She didn't trust herself. If she told him exactly what she thought, he might really do something terrible to her. The position he had tied her in was uncomfortable but tolerable. If she had to stay here until hell froze over, she'd do it. But never would she call this horrible man "master".
"I am not going to fuck you. I am going to truly punish you now." He went to a cabinet and came back with a black velvet hood. He pulled it over the girl's head until she was cut off from the rest of the world. Blind, she had only her sense of feel to rely on. Even smell couldn't penetrate the thick bag on her head. She wondered at the faint sounds which reached her ears. The man had effectively imprisoned her in a dark world hoping to scare her.
"Go to hell!" she screamed again. The words seemed to be eaten by the thick fabric of the bag. She settled down and waited for him to fuck her. The teenager figured, that was all that remained. But she didn't even feel the lightest of touches on the bed. Carole thought she might have heard the door closing but the velvet bag muffled sounds effectively.
She lay there for what seemed an eternity, waiting, anticipating. Each second dragged like an hour. She didn't have any idea how long it was since Mr. Strong had trussed her up and blindfolded her. She thought it had to be at least an hour. Maybe two.
Or was it a full day. She didn't know. Time ceased to have meaning. All she had in the way of a clock was her own heartbeat, but attempts to count the number of beats failed. Her heart seemed to race, then still for long minutes. It reacted to the amount of fright she felt.
What if Mr. Strong forgot about her? She couldn't scream and attract attention. No one looked in on her that she knew of. Perhaps Clive might wonder and come looking for her and find her. But what if Mr. Strong had sent Clive away? Or what if Miss Olson wanted to see her competition for Mr. Strong's favor, dead. The woman wasn't above allowing the girl to die in the darkness and pain being inflicted on her.
Carole began to struggle and fight against her bonds. She had to escape. Food. She had to have water. It had been hours – days! – since that evil man had left her in the room.
"Help! Help meeeee!" she screamed, but the words didn't seem to go anywhere. They came back muffled and dulled. They mocked her more than the silence. She had never been more frightened in her entire life.
Perhaps she slept. She might have passed out. Or neither. She may have stayed fully conscious and didn't realize it. Whatever happened, some vague sense of no longer being alone hit her. She called out but the words were sucked up as they had been before.
Vibration on the bed. She bounced to and fin to the rhythm of someone approaching her. When a calloused finger stroked along the inside of her thigh, she jumped as if the touch had been dipped in acid. The surprise of it startled her, sent her heart to racing wildly. She wanted to see what was happening, who was near her.
"Who's there?" she cried. She shouted louder. She had to know. Was this Mr. Strong? Or had Clive come to rescue her?
At the thought of Clive and possible rescue, she felt her pussy begin to chum lightly. The hand pressed warmly into her thigh. Then a slow stroke from the knee all the way up to her snatch. A racing movement took the hand back along that path, warming the skin with friction. A slow movement, teasing, tempting, tantalizing, back toward her snatch.
As the finger gently parted her cunt lips to expose her cunt hole, she bit into her lower lip. The touch of a human hand, no matter whose it was, reassured her. She wasn't alone. But she was blind and didn't know who it was.
The hand stroked up and down the cunt lips until the thick inner oils oozing from her twat were smeared all over her crotch. She felt her clit begin to rise to the teasing of the finger. She gasped in joy as the finger lightly flicked the very top of her clitoris. That single movement sent pleasure boiling into her guts and replaced some of the pain she had begun to experience. Being bent double cut off her circulation and made her legs feel leaden and numb.
"Please tell me who you are!" She knew the man was close enough to hear her, even through the veiling velvet sack over her head. No answer came back. He either didn't want to answer or he couldn't.
A light touch on her asshole with a cunt-juice drenched finger. She shivered as the finger worked its way into her shit chute. The long finger dove for the depths of her gut, then began to wiggle. The tensed muscles in her body relaxed at the luscious feeling. Deep inside, that finger moved around, stroking, tempting, promising her more than it delivered. She wanted more than a finger up her tightest passage.
But the finger vanished. All trace of the man vanished until she felt the bed begin to move a little. Then she screamed. A huge cock came rushing up into her well-greased cunt. The sudden entry sent her senses reeling. The huge cock filled her to overflowing and threatened to rob her of her senses.
When she felt the hairy bag containing the man's balls wetly slapping against her upturned ass, she calmed down a little. The movement now was mething she had experienced before. But who was this mysterious stranger coming to her in the night.
The girl's brain went into a frenzy. She tried to think it through. Would Mr. Strong send a man in to fuck her? She had to decide if it was possible. She hadn't obeyed him when he had demanded that she call him master. She had spurned him and his advances then. Being raped by a leper might be the farm of punishment that would appeal to the man's perverted sense of humor.
But she had no real reason to think this was anyone but Mr. Strong. The size of the prick pushed hard against her tight cunt walls. He filled her like that. When the man's heavy weight began to press down on her legs, she groaned. He drove in even deeper. She couldn't imagine being bound in a position which would allow a man to fuck farther into a chick's cunt than this one.
Her knees would have rested over the man's shoulders if her ankles hadn't been fled to the head of the bed. Thrashing around brought her little comfort. The chain around her neck prevented her from moving too much.
The man's prick slowly pulled from her cunt. Then it snapped back in, hard and long and demanding. He began a fucking which was methodical, powerful and totally different from the way Clive had fucked her. He had used short, quick strokes designed to build up the friction in her pussy and get her off. This man seemed to be intent on fucking her all night long.
Or was it night? She couldn't tell. The blindness began to worry her again. The bag over her head completely cut off all sense of the outside world. She was more helpless than simply being tied up. Fright stalked her once more.
"Stop it! Let me loose! Take this damned bag off my head!" she demanded. The request was ignored. The cock returned to sheath itself in her juicy twat.
The fucking slowly built up speed. The cock drove in mercilessly, screwing her so hard, that the bed began to shake. The man's weight came down harder on her legs as he fucked with more insistence. Her cunt started to warm to the cock.
She felt her juices leaking out and dribbling down the inside of her ass cheeks. When the cock twitched hard once deep inside, she almost came.
The idea of a mysterious stranger fucking her had always been one of her fantasies but she'd never thought it would be like this. She was being raped and had no idea at all who was doing it.
The cock began sliding in and out of her cunt so fast that the friction burned her sensitive pussy walls. She moaned and struggled to get more of that raping prick inside her cunt. The bonds on her wrists and ankles prevented it.
She felt her sexual tension mounting rapidly in her belly. Each breath was agony. Liquid fire seared her lungs. The cock drove ever deeper into her tightly clinging cunt. Then came the fluid rush of the man's jism. He spurted out into her pussy. She tensed all her muscles and tried to milk every last drop from his cock.
She succeeded. He seemed to come for hours and hours, the hot liquid of his jism whitewashing her insides until she was almost ready to come herself. But just as the tensions approached the breaking point, she found her pussy empty. The cock had vanished as mysteriously as it had appeared.
Carole cried out, "Fuck me, damn you, fuck meeeee!" but there was no answer. She wasn't even sure she heard the door to the bedroom softly close. All she knew was that she was alone again, in the dark, sounds muffled, tied up and very, very frightened.