She didn't know exactly how long Paul let her stay on the arm of the pump. For once in her life, she prayed for no wind at all. She was sick and dizzy from the motion. The more she struggled against the ropes tying her to the arm of the pump, the tighter the knots became. Paul was obviously expert at tying people up.
Around noon, if she guessed right by the position of the sun, Paul returned and looked her over. The sight of her naked body on the arm of the pump excited him. She could see the bulge at the crotch of his pants grow as he stood, staring at her.
The sight of her was delectable. The woman's tits moved in small circles as she rocked up and down on the pump arm. Her legs separated nicely to reveal the inky blackness of her push. Pink cunt-lips yawned wide just under the downward-pointing tip of her triangular pussy-mound. He knew how luscious that cunt was; he had fucked it enough limes to want more of its tightness around his prick.
"Me you ready to go inside?" he asked.
"Yes," she cried out, hardly able to speak without banging her teeth together in a loud clack. The jerking motion of the pump arm made her afraid she might bite her tongue off if she tried calling him all the names she had thought up.
"Okay. You've got to promise not try and escape like you've done before. Otherwise, I'll have to severely discipline you. Do you understand what I'm saying?"
She would have agreed to anything to get free of the moving arm. It made her entire body ache, but most of all, her pussy hurt like hell. Not since she'd lost her cherry had she felt this sore. She could hardly bear any more of this torture.
He freed her and she collapsed to the ground, panting like a dog. She stayed on hands and knees for a moment, then saw her chance. A discarded axe handle was partially hidden under the pump rig. She gripped it and swung with all her might. She would have killed Paul if the tip of the axe handle hadn't been deflected by part of the steel rig holding the pump.
As it was, she gave him enough of a blow to knock him out. She dropped the axe handle and ran for the house. She wanted clothing and she wanted keys to the car and she wanted to get the fuck away from this place.
Sandy stopped dead in her tracks when she entered the cabin. Changes had been made in the once-tasteful decor. In the center of the room stood a pair of wooden stocks like the Puritans used to use on their criminals. A space was cut in the wood for a head and on either side were smaller holes for the victim's hands. Below was a complex contraption which obviously held the ankles, but could be adjusted to hold the legs apart at different distances. Whoever ended up in the stocks could be stood there with feet close together or spread painfully wide apart.
She had no doubt that she was intended to occupy these stocks and that Paul would spread her legs wide using the contraption. He could fuck her from behind at his leisure. A shiver passed through her body as she realized how close she'd come to really being his sex slave.
She found her clothes didn't bother with bra or panties and buttoned the rough wool shirt and pulled up the jeans around her tight, tensed ass.
The rough wool massaged her nipples, stimulating them more than she cared to think about. The rough denim fabric pressed into her crotch and rubbed her raw. What stimulation she got out of the shirt was offset by the discomfort of the jeans pressing along her cunt-lips.
She searched through the man's possessions until she found his car keys. Grabbing them, she turned and ran from the house. She had no idea if she'd killed Paul – she didn't think so – and if he would be coming after her.
Sandy slipped behind the wheel of the car, thrust the key into the ignition and began grinding the engine. It refused to catch. She pressed the key harder and hoped this would make the engine start. It didn't.
"Missing something?" came the cold voice at her ear. She turned and saw Paul's face only inches away. He held up his hand, displaying a black rod made from plastic. "The rotor," he said, as if that explained things to her.
"What?" she stammered.
"Out of the Goddamned car. Now!" He yanked open the door and she felt herself sail through the air and land painfully on the ground. In a flash, he was behind her, binding her hands with rough hemp cord.
"Don't do this to me! Please!"
"Shut your mouth, slut. I'll do what I want to with you. I warned you about trying to escape and this is going to be it for you!"
She believe him.
He easily picked up her body and carried her into the cabin. He didn't bother untying her hands. They were securely bound behind her back.
In a few more minutes, he had her ankles fastened into the gadget at her feet.
"This is something I put together on my own," he told her in a conversational tone. "I can adjust the width of your stance from tiny to huge." He showed her – painfully.
He moved the device so that her legs were pressed tightly together. Then he pulled her legs far apart. She felt pain arrow into her pussy. The stretched skin of her cunt made her so uncomfortable that she had to call out and beg him to stop. She hated herself instantly when she did.
"Can't take it, huh?" he said. "It's okay for you to bash people on the head with axes but it's not okay for me to punish you for doing it. That's what I love about you Women's Lib types. All the time making with double standards. You can do anything you Goddamned want, but when a man tries to do it, he's a Goddamned fucking male chauvinist pig."
She winced as he spread her legs three feet apart. Suddenly, he thrust his finger all the way up her cunt. She wanted to cry out and moan, but that would only goad him on. She held her tongue.
"I'm getting hungry. I think I'm going to fix lunch. But, you've heard we're in the middle of an energy crisis, so I figure I'll cook this hot dog in a special way." He held up the hot dog for her inspection. She went cold all over when the meaning of the man's words finally sank in.
"You can't do this to me! You wouldn't."
He did.
He shoved the hot dog all the way up into her pussy. She felt the cold wiener rob her of inner-heat. Yet, in spite of the indignity of it all, she felt a bit of excitement. She couldn't explain why she was aroused at having the hot dog shoved all the way up her cunt. It might have been that she had a hollow feeling in her pussy from lack of cock.
There hadn't been a single good fucking since she'd come up to the lake. She'd been raped several times but Paul had never fucked her lovingly. More and more she came to like the idea of fucking only other women – or dominating men and forcing them to do her bidding.
This was totally out of her experience. Paul took command and kept it. The harder she tried to escape from him, the more he punished her. He dominated her completely. She hated him for it – and it made her cunt all gooey with lust.
"Hmmmm," he said, puffing the hot dog from her pussy, "looks like it'll be another few minutes before it's hot enough to eat. I like the idea of all your cunt-juices on the wiener, though. Gives it added flavor, don't you know?"
He began stroking the hot dog back and forth in her pussy as if it were a prick. She didn't want to respond to the motion. But she did. Her breathing came harder and faster. She felt her heart pumping blood to her tits. Her tits were expanding and felt as if they might pop at any second.
"You dig this, don't you? It figures. You probably masturbate all the time. That's the way cock-teasers get their kicks, isn't it?"
"Why are you doing this to me? What have I ever done to you to deserve such treatment." She licked her lips and wished her hands weren't bound behind her back. The motion of the masturbating hot dog in her pussy wasn't quite right. A little faster and she might be able to get off on it.
"You've done everything to me. It's what you stand for that bugs the hell out of me. I just want to strike out for male rights. That's something all you pushy cunts have forgotten, isn't it?"
She caught her breath as he moved his hands toward her pussy-lips. The hot dog actually brushed against her clit and sent electric thrills throughout her belly. She even felt her cunt contract and try to grip the piece of meat.
Never in her life had she been so degraded. And she was doing most of it to herself! She actually responded sexually to a hot dog being thrust in and out of her pussy. She began to cry in frustration.
"There, there, my dear," he said. "You mustn't cry. It's so unbecoming to a lady. Here, have something to eat."
He pulled the hot dog from her pussy with a wet, lewd smacking noise and then thrust it against her lips. For a moment, she turned away and tried to avoid it. The wooden stocks prevented her from getting far enough away to do any good. The man continued to poke it into her lips until finally she couldn't avoid it any more.
She opened her mouth and bit off the end of the hot dog. The woman felt a surge of revulsion at what she was doing. The hot dog was drenched with her own fuck-fluids. The man had raped her with a hot dog and was now forcing her to eat the vile thing!
"Good, isn't it? I figured you might like it." He pulled the hot dog from her mouth and licked it. She could see her cunt-oils on his tongue. With a big show of delight, he gobbled the entire hot dog, then licked his lips.
"You're lower than a snake's belly!" she screamed. "I hate you more than words can tell!"
"Really? We'll have to do something about that. Like, hmmmm, let's see if we can't change your mind by exciting you a little more."
She shrieked as he thrust something impossibly thick and cold into her cunt. The woman wasn't able to turn around and see what he was doing; she didn't have to. She could feel each and every movement he made behind her.
Tensing her pussy-muscles, she discovered that he had rammed a cucumber up her cunt. The bumpy sides tickled and tormented her cunt walls. What really gave her pain, though, was the thickness of the cucumber. It was bigger around than any man's cock. And the son of a bitch using it on her began to twist it inside her tightly-clinging cunt.
"Aiieeee! It hurrrrts!" she complained. The lances of agony rammed through her and brought tears to her eyes. But she held back the real flood of tears she wanted to release. It wouldn't do to let him know he had succeeded in besting her at anything.
But the pain!
The twisting motion pulled her pussy-walls in new and different directions. No man's prick would be this punishing. Her tender inner-membrane was pulled out of shape. She knew that she would be ripped apart inside.
Just as she thought that she would pass out, he stopped. The pain died away and then returned when the man started fucking her with the long, green cylinder.
"God, for a chick with such a tight cunt, you sure do expand to take anything rammed up you. But I guess maybe that's the way women are built. After all, how's a baby supposed to get out, otherwise?"
She didn't want to enlighten him on anatomy. She wanted him dead. She wanted him to stop fucking her with the cucumber!
"Hot enough for you? Looks like you're beginning to sweat a little," he said. He stopped fucking her with the long, green vegetable and began stroking her body. But he'd left the cucumber buried full-length up her cunt.
She sobbed openly now, not able to hide her feelings. His hands felt so damned good as they moved across her sensitive skin. She could almost forget the stuffed-up feeling in her cunt when he pinched her nipples and brushed across the slight dome of her belly.
When he touched her clit, she came.
The entire world turned upside down for her and then spun around wildly as her body responded to that caress. When she came down from her sexual high, she discovered he had other ways in mind to torment her.
"Like this?" he asked.
She cried and laughed at the same time. The cucumber remained inside her juicy cunt, making her want to scream in agony. But, now he used a feather across her tits in such a way that she couldn't help but respond. He moved the feather across her tits, between her boobs and ass-cheeks, then lightly along her cunt lips. The feeling started between her legs.
Pain. Pleasure. Pleasure, pain and more. She came again.
The pain angered her, but the pleasure was so damned good. Finally, she stopped trying to figure out which feeling brought her off.
"You do get off on this sort of thing, don't you?" Paul said.
He tormented her with his feather, lightly drawing it across her buttocks and then down the insides of her legs. Her tender flesh rippled and covered with goose-flesh. She wanted to laugh as he applied the feather to the soles of her feet.
She had never understood the connection between her feet and her orgasms. Every time she got off in a big way, her toes curled and her legs tensed. Now, she was taking the reverse route. Her orgasm wasn't starting in her clit and passing down her legs; it started in her toes and worked its way slowly up her legs.
By the time she exploded again in a wild frenzied climax, she knew that she would never be the same again. She had discovered too many hidden facets of her personality to ever go back to being the same Sandy Kramer.
She loved fucking. Not so much with men, but fucking was her top sport. The feel of a cock driving in and out of her pussy turned her on, but the men fucking her seldom did. Now, she found herself responding to Paul in ways she'd never done before. The more he tortured her, the more he humiliated her, the more she loved it.
The woman hated him, but she loved what he did to her. He was dominant. He made sure that she didn't wrap him around her little finger. That was new to her.
Most of all, she liked the feeling of being tied up. She wasn't responsible for anything done to her. He had her completely at his mercy. She could relax and go along with him. Her hands felt like icy clubs due to the lack of circulation in her hands, but she ignored that. The rough wood cutting into her neck hurt the most. Having her legs pinned so widely apart didn't bother her too much.
It gave the man easy access to her cunt.
"Enough of that," he said. "I think it's time to get down to the good stuff." She moaned softly as he pulled out the cucumber and smeared her pussy with something soft and gooey. She started to ask what he was doing when she felt a rough, wet tongue licking along her cunt-lips. The sudden pleasure flowing through her body felt great. It snapped her awake and brought every nerve in her body to full attention.
"Ummm, God, Paul, why didn't you do this sooner?" she sighed. "I love it when someone eats my pussy."
"Who's eating your cunt, you dumb slut?" he asked, moving around to where she could see him. But the licking at her cunt continued even though the man stood in front of her.
He smiled wickedly. "That nice German Shepherd dog that found its way here. That's who's licking your cunt!"
She went cold all over. The wolf had been bad enough, but to have her pussy licked by a dog repulsed her totally. She sobbed out, "You animal! How can you do these things to me?"
"Like smearing dog food all over your cunt? It just came to me, in a flash, you know. But don't you like the dog licking at you that way? Want me to stop him?"
"Yes!" she screamed.
It surprised the hell out of her when she heard Paul say, "Down, boy. She doesn't like that rough tongue of yours moving all over her cunt." The woman relaxed a little bit. She realized that Paul actually did pull the dog away from her. But, she went cold all over again when she felt hairy legs pressing into either side of her ass.
The dog moved and jerked a little and a slippery dog-prick entered her cunt. She screamed and screamed as the dog started fucking her from behind.
"Shut up," snapped Paul. "You're making Bowser here uptight. You wouldn't want to upset a lover, would you?"
The woman felt violated. She hadn't felt this bad inside when Paul had tied her hands and raped her ass. That had been the first time any man had taken her up the back, it had seemed almost natural. She knew ass-fucking was done all the time; she just hadn't done it with a man.
But this!
This was decadent, unnatural and totally humiliating. He had abused her in a variety of ways, and she had come through it all vowing to get even with him. Now her hatred flared more than ever, but she couldn't do a damned thing about the dog puffing and panting as his animal-prick stroked into her pussy.
Fucked by a dog!
She wished she could run and hide, to avoid this sordid scene. But, she was too firmly locked in the wooden stocks. Paul had seen to everything. She couldn't even move her feet. She had to allow the dog to finish, to come in her pussy.
Sandy felt unclean. She wanted to die.