"Maybe you shouldn't come with me, Peter," the lovely woman said nervously. In the back of her mind she thought about all she'd done with Dwight Bryon and didn't know if she could face her two lovers seeing one another. There wasn't anything wrong in what she'd done with Bryon, that Caroline knew, but she'd be embarrassed anyway. And trying to explain to Peter why she'd sucked Bryon's cock and then let him fuck her up the ass wouldn't be possible.
"Want to do it on your own?" her boyfriend asked. "I guess I understand. These are things you have to learn to do all by yourself. I'll just wait out here in the parking lot."
Caroline smiled weakly. That was better than having Peter come in, yet he seemed upset over it. She couldn't tell him to wait out here in the cold simply because she was nervous.
"No, come on in with me, Peter. Please." He beamed and Caroline knew she'd done the right thing.
She hoped.
They walked into the office, their shoes clicking on the bare tile floors. Dwight Bryon had told her they didn't carpet the place because of static electricity messing up the cameras. She thought it was for a different reason – that the owner was too cheap to spring for the money to buy carpets. There were even candles placed all around, as much for lighting as for the effect. She'd noticed them in Bryon's office the day before and she was intrigued by the number in the waiting room. Maybe the owner of the station owned a candle factory, too. Stranger things had happened.
Dwight Bryon came out of his office, saw her and smiled from ear to ear. Then he saw Peter holding her hand tightly. The implication was obvious.
"Miss Saunders," the station manager said coldly. "You've come for word on the job?"
"Yes, sir, I have. You said to come in around five." She glanced up at the clock. It was just seconds before five.
"Well, yes."
"Oh, Mr. Bryon, this is my boyfriend, Peter Caldwell," Caroline hastily introduced.
"I'm sure," said Bryon coldly.
Caroline began to doubt her wisdom in letting Peter join her inside. He was screwing up her chances for the job – and only she knew why. Bryon felt threatened by another man. The older station manager couldn't help but notice how strong and how handsome Peter was.
Caroline hated this. She wanted the job and didn't want to irritate Dwight Bryon. But she wasn't going to keep letting him fuck her. She'd been turned on by him before; that was past now. The adrenaline rush, her fear of the cameras, all had added to her arousal on seeing Dwight Bryon. But she had Peter. He was her lover and she wasn't going to jeopardize that relationship.
Even for a job.
"If you'll come into my office…" Bryon gestured vaguely toward his office. Caroline felt as if she were entering the lion's den. She gripped Peter's hand even tighter. He returned a reassuring pressure.
As they started in, Bryon spoke up sharply: "Only Miss Saunders, please. This is private."
"But…" Peter started.
"It's okay, Peter. Just look around the station or something. It won't be that long."
"And then again, it might be," said Bryon. "We have much to discuss, Miss Saunders and I do."
Peter shrugged and went to look over the station. Caroline followed Bryon into the office, feeling as if the door should be painted green and an electric chair perched inside waiting for her.
"Mr. Bryon, please, he's my friend. He won't interrupt."
"You've got the job, Caroline, if you want it."
The suddenness of the man's words shocked the young blonde. She sank down into a hard straight-backed chair beside his desk. Of all the things Dwight might have said, this was the last she'd expected.
"I do? I mean, yes, I'll take it!"
"We're going to have to get some things straight first, Caroline," he said, coming around his desk. "Right now. I think you know why I want you for the job."
"It's because… you want me."
"I don't give a flying fuck about who's on camera. We can stand up a leper or a fool wearing a gorilla suit and get the same ratings. You're very pretty – and I want to fuck you."
"Please don't make me decide like that, Mr. Bryon."
"Dwight."
"Dwight," she agreed weakly.
Caroline's mind raced. How could she decide like this? She needed the job, wanted it desperately. But to put out for the boss? That was sexual blackmail of the worst kind. But Dwight Bryon wasn't unattractive to her. He was dominant, distinguished, seemed to know his job quite well. This job provided an opportunity to get noticed, to really get ahead.
All she had to do was let Bryon fuck her.
"I can't decide. Not like this."
"You stupid bitch," Bryon said. "I figure you'd make a pretty picture if I had you tied up over a straight-backed chair. That ass of yours would wiggle up in the air and look so nice I couldn't help but want to fuck it."
"Go to hell!" she blurted.
Caroline didn't know if she meant that or not. The only sound in the room now was the pounding of her heart and the harsh rasp of her breath going in and out of her lungs.
"That's no way to speak to your boss. I will take what's rightfully mine."
"By raping me?"
"Call it what you want, slut."
He reached down and grabbed her ankle. He yanked painfully hard. She cried out as a lance of white-hot pain shot up into her cunt. He dumped her full length onto the cold tile floor. The way she was stretched out on the floor was an act a contortionist wouldn't have been able to perform. He was bending her all out of shape and enjoying the play of her muscles as he did so.
"I like seeing the way your ass tightens when I jerk your leg around."
She felt a stab into her ass as he bent her leg to one side. This she could do without. But it was still getting to her. She didn't understand what it was about being abused by Dwight Bryon that made her so hot to fuck. She wanted that huge prick of his more than ever by the time he'd finished playing with her like a cat plays with a trapped mouse.
"I'm going to tie you down in a way that a cowboy would approve of. My cock needs some action again and you're going to provide it for me. Aren't you, cunt?"
"You can go to hell, you bastard!" She didn't have to act to get the words out. She halfway felt that way. He was making her feel pain. That wasn't right. It simply wasn't anything she'd planned on when she set out to get this job.
Or was it? Was emotional and mental pain any worse – or better – than physical pain? She had desired him. She saw how he could make it out that she was a cockteaser. The young blonde saw it all quite plainly.
She had used sex as a weapon, a toy, something not really involving true love. Now it backfired on her. He was taking her and using her as he pleased. She had pushed him and now he responded. He had to prove to himself that he could cope with her on any terms.
The man no doubt felt remorse at what he was doing to her. Or was he? The quivery thought made her suddenly cold all over. He might be enjoying this. His demented philosophy might actually approve of the torture he meted out to her. If that was true, there was no telling how far he might go.
"That cunt of yours looks empty," he said in a quiet voice.
She wasn't able to turn her head and look at him. The way he held her neck prevented it.
"Yes, oh, yes!" she moaned out. "Fill me up. I need you inside me."
"The hell you do!" he flared hotly. "You're still trying to use me. You think I'll shut up and be content if you offer me a little tight pussy. No more, bitch, no more!"
He came around and quickly tied her hands behind her back with a long piece of sashcord he'd ripped from one of the curtains. Caroline struggled briefly and then stopped. She was only tightening the bonds by fighting. And then the lovely woman cried out in horror.
"I'll fill your slimy cunt for you. All the way. With this candle!"
She cried out in pain as he rammed the thick wax candle into her tight pussy lips. She felt the sluggish wax begin to flow as he twisted and reamed it into her twat. As it stretched inner membranes to the breaking point, she passed out.
When Caroline came to, there was incredible pain in her belly and it was all radiating outward from her cunt. She was filled all right, filled with a gross candle. She had wanted cock and gotten punishment.
"How do you like that?"
"Words can't describe you, you motherfucker!"
"Words can describe you, slave. You've got a hot cunt. And it's going to get even hotter."
He pulled out a cigarette lighter and flicked it.
The butane flame looked six inches high as he approached her.
"You can't burn me! You just can't!"
"You? Hardly, cunt. The candle. The candle is going to show you what it's like to burn at both ends. You can learn a great philosophical truth with this little experiment."
She tried to cross her legs, to keep him away from her tender tight pussy lips. She found that he'd tightly bound her legs to the desk so she'd lie face-down across it. There was no way she could possibly keep that dancing flame from her bush.
The lovely woman felt the hot caress of the flame – and then nothing. By straining, she saw he had lit the wick of the candle protruding from her cunt. And, as it burned, the flame came closer and closer to her twat.
"Go on and watch, hot bod. You're going to enjoy this. Want to suck my cock to keep your mind off the fire getting closer and closer?"
His fingers lightly caressed her clit. The surge of delight that arced into her body startled her. She hadn't been expecting anything like this to happen.
His laughter echoed through the office. He held his rigid prick and moved it closer to her lips. In a soft whisper, he said: "Suck my cock. Go on, you stupid bitch!"
Her body hurt with an intensity she hadn't thought possible. The candle crammed up her twat was ripping her apart. She thought she could feel the beginning flow of sluggish blood. Or it might have been melting wax from the huge candle. She couldn't tell the difference. It didn't matter, either.
She hurt.
And the warmth of the burning candle was slowly turning into heat. And that heat would rapidly sear her tender cunt lips. She couldn't stir wound to snuff it out. She would have to let it burn her tight pussy lips, char her fleecy blonde cunt fur and even allow the flame to blister her inner thighs.
The hot wax running from the candle made her legs feel like they had blisters all over them. Her soft, tender, yielding thighs were quivering with every light touch of the hot wax. It wouldn't be long before she went out of her mind with fear and pain.
And he wanted her to suck his cock!
It brushed across her trembling lips. This ignited all the old desires in her body. She wasn't able to deny that she wanted that cock resting nicely between her lips so she could suck on it again.
But not now, not while he was torturing her! The flame worked closer and closer to her tight pussy. She tossed her head from side to side, sending out a wild cascade of lovely blonde hair. The frightened look in her eyes made Bryon grin lewdly. She was giving him incredible pleasure by being so terrified of what he might do to her.
But he was insistent. His prick forced her lips apart. He laid the throbbing cock along the young blonde's lips and then began stroking back and forth in a sensuous, slow motion.
"If… if I suck on it, will you put the candle out?"
"No bargains. You're trying to use sex as a weapon against me. I don't give a damn about your problems. You'll get this frigging job on my terms. Suck my cock, slave!"
Her lips parted and her tongue slipped out to move sensually along the turgid prick. He smiled. He'd won and she knew it. He yanked his cock from her mouth and laughed harshly.
"I want my prick in something a bit more to my liking. Like your cunt!"
"The candle," she moaned weakly. She felt the heat growing. Her tender tight pussy lips were cringing from the searing flame inching closer. She wished she could put it out. It was blistering her delicate cunt lips, making her entire body shudder in painful reaction.
"I'll put it out when I feel like it," he told her calmly. "I've got to arrange a chair. Tying you over its back and then fucking your cunt sounds like something I really want to do. In a while."
As the tip of flame reached her blonde tight pussy fur, Caroline screamed and kept screaming.
. She hadn't done anything to deserve this. All she'd wanted was a quick screw with a handsome man, the promise of a job, release of nervous tension. The flame caressed her soft flesh until it singed. She smelled the heavy odor of burning flesh – her flesh.
The pain lanced into her body like a flaming arrow shot up her cunt. The candle's huge girth was still awful, but her own body heat was melting it down. It was no longer the painful reality she'd come to think was normal.
The flame at the candle tip was all that mattered to her now. The man wasn't going to put it out, not even if it was setting her on fire. She felt her tight pussy lips curl back, trying to escape the burning torture.
Then her own body came to her rescue. Caroline hated this, she hated it with all the passion locked up in her lusty body. But she was responding in ways she couldn't fully understand. She felt pain and it turned her on sexually.
The flow of cunt juices leaking around the candle put out the flame before it did her any great harm.
As the flame sputtered and went out, she collapsed weakly on the desk. It had been more of an emotional strain on her than, she'd thought. For the first time, the young blonde was able to really feel the pain inching up her limbs.
Her arms felt dead from lack of circulation. He'd tied her down so tightly it would be long minutes after he released her before she got the blood flowing easily through her wrists again. And her legs hardly in better condition.
One ankle had been tied to one leg of the desk with the other bound to the far leg. She was held spread-eagle in a painful stretch that hit directly at her cunt. It wouldn't have taken much to rip her apart all the way to the chin.
But Caroline had triumphed. No matter what Dwight Bryon did to her, she could survive it and continue to feel superior to him. Let him try to get back at his slave. He wouldn't be able to do it!
She saw this as a fight between the two of them for domination of the other. She used sex as a weapon, softly, gently, quietly. And he was masculine in his approach. He was brutal and forthright. He made his move and then stood behind it without flinching. Torture? Sure, if it suited his purposes. But she wouldn't allow pain to intrude.
Yet… yet she wished he would win. A dominant man was so sexy! She got off in a big way on all that he was doing, though she could hardly admit it to him or even herself.
"The chair's ready," he announced.
Dwight didn't bother to yank out the candle, but then he didn't relight it, either. He said nothing about it. She wondered if he really cared at all that her tight pussy lips were still stinging and red from the flame's searing touch.
She doubted it. Bryon didn't seem to even notice as he pulled her off the desk after untying her. The lovely woman tried to fight him off and found her arms and legs refusing to obey her.
The lack of circulation betrayed her and she fell heavily to the floor, a sobbing heap of tortured flesh.
"Get up. Get up, slave. This time I'm going to really fuck you."
She writhed on the floor, trying to find a position where the candle wasn't ripping into her guts. A man's cock bent a little when it went into her cunt all the way. The candle was rigid and didn't bend at all. It was digging into her guts in a way designed to give her nothing but sheer, undiluted pain.
The man pulled the lovely woman to her feet and she almost felt again. Then she felt the sharp edge of the wooden chair shoving into her belly. The candle squirted out of her cunt. This gave her a surge of relief that was almost enough to make her pass out again.
But this time she held on grimly. She was fully awake from the beginning as he grabbed her again.
When she felt the knobby crown of his cock glide past her asshole, she let out a low, heartfelt moan. And it wasn't a moan of pleasure. This hurt now. It hurt worse than anything she'd have thought possible.
As his prick nudged into the tortured lips of her tight pussy, she began to twitch and writhe around, trying to escape. That wasn't possible. The ropes held her hands too securely. They weren't any looser around her ankles. The flesh on her wrists and ankles was chafed and cut and raw. She could barely stand the dancing needles of pain.
"Stop it, stop it! I can't take any more!"
"You'll have to, won't you, cunt? I'm not going to help you. You tried using sex to get a job from me. I won't stop. I'm going to take my pleasure with you and then to hell with you!"
"No, no!" the lovely woman protested. "I just wanted to fuck you! Ohhhhhh!"
The purpled glans shot inside her cunt now. She felt torn apart, betrayed. He was driving his cock into her with the slow, sure moves of a man totally certain of his territory. There was none of the desperate fucking she'd hoped he would demonstrate.
The faster he fucked her, the sooner this torture would be over. But he was determined to fuck her right, to get the maximum pleasure – for himself.
"God, even after you've had a candle jammed up your twat, you're tight! I… I can feel those tight pussy walls clamping down around my cock."
It was great for Bryon but not for Caroline. She was assaulted on all fronts by unforgiving pain. Nowhere to turn, she suffered. She let the pain wash through her young body, a relentless tide of agony not to be denied.
There should have been intense pleasure from feeling the man's prick slowly moving in her juicy cunt. She had gotten off in a big way before on the way he butt-fucked her. It was a thrill, a joy, a thing uncommon and therefore to be cherished.
She felt like dying.
The way his prick worked against the walls of her pussy was sheer murder. The pain surged all the way into her belly, exploded and raced up her spine. The cornholing had been kinky and fun in a perverted way. Now he was killing her by slow inches – and there wasn't a damned thing the young girl could do about it.
Caroline had brought this on herself. And every time she felt his cock work another inch up her tight pussy, she knew it. But the lovely woman was a prisoner and was totally at the man's mercy. She couldn't call Peter. She was in this all by herself. He could extract all the joy he wanted from her bound and tortured body. And she would have to endure. That was now her lot in life.
Endure. Survive. Try to enjoy it if at all possible.
But it wasn't possible. No matter how she ordered her tormented cunt to enjoy, it revolted. The pain was too great. The feel of his prick moving slowly back and forth in her fuck tunnel was agony for her after the candle had been inside for so long.
Then Bryon's hips exploded in a frenzy of activity. He fucked her with all the power locked in his body. His hands ripped and tore at the creamy globes of her ass. He tried to tear the doughy mounds from her body as his cock plunged into her seething tight pussy.
The tightness of her body was increased by the pain. He felt the fluttering, turgid cunt lips surround his prick. The feel of his prick on those reddened, tortured cunt lips was enough to cause the young woman pain. This tightened her cunt around his virile cock. She was hurting – bad. That lit inner fires of desire that the man had never known before. He fucked her with more speed, more confidence, more ability than ever before. And he loved every second of it.
She was in pain. That made his pleasure all the more intense. His fingers tortured her ass. This tightened her pussy around his prick even more. He fucked into a cunt he would have thought to be a virgin's if he hadn't known better. She was crushing him flat with her steamy, squeezing cunt walls.
The flesh under his fingers flowed like putty. He tried to rearrange it into a shape more pleasing to him. It refused. It flowed back into the original curves of her ass. But that was minor. Her tight pussy convulsed around him in the throes of orgasm.
Vaguely, he realized she was coming. She'd gotten off in a big way on his fucking. And being tied up. And the pain. And the humiliation. She'd gotten off on all those things. His basic philosophy of sex and life and fucking was right on.
He fucked her cunt even faster.
He had to feel his come spurting from his prick. The emotional and physical release was all that counted now.
His come. His pleasure. Now!
The white-hot fountain of his jism spattered into her clutching cunt hole. Gallon after gallon of his come gushed in. Then it was all over. His prick went limp. He watched as a tiny stream of his jizz leaked from her well-fucked cunt. It dribbled out and down over her tortured inner thighs.
He took a step back and surveyed the scene. She was bent double over the back of the chair. The wooden back cut mercilessly into her belly. She panted for breath. He didn't care if it was the chair or her orgasm that robbed her lungs of precious oxygen.
"Now do you want the job?" he asked. "You cocksucker, you Goddamn cocksucking motherfucking son of a bitch!" he ranted. But things changed inside her. She needed this job. She needed it badly. And she had actually lusted after Dwight Bryon while he was doing those awful things to her. She'd enjoyed it!
"The job?" he repeated.
"I want it," Caroline. Saunders said, sobbing softly.
The man began untying her.