Vicki slept. She curled up on the soft, deep-piled rug and slept like a baby. It was many hours later when the maid awakened her. She looked up, rubbed blurred eyes and then suddenly asked, "What time is it?"
The maid calmly answered, "Time means nothing to us. Only the master is able to answer your question and he won't. What difference does it make? You're not going anywhere."
Vicki looked to the single window in the room. The light was coming through the window and casting a peculiar pattern on the floor. It took her a couple minutes to realize this would be the pattern caused by light shining through bars.
The window of her room was barred!
But she wasn't able to go over to it and check it out firsthand. The chain fastened to the collar around her neck was too short by several feet. And besides, even if it had been long enough, the best she could have done was jump out and hang herself.
No, she wasn't going anywhere.
Mr. Valentine had thought of everything.
"Eat," the maid told her. Then she turned and left. But Vicki saw the red lash marks making erotic patterns on the maid's ass. She, too, had been whipped brutally. The girl wondered if the maid had then been fucked.
Probably. And maybe even in ways worse than she had. After all, it wasn't that bad getting fucked while on a nice, soft carpet. The chain and dog collar around her neck got in the way, but not that much.
What if Mr. Valentine had whipped the maid's butt, then bent her over a hot stove to fuck her from behind? The woman's tits would have been in danger of being seared off.
The girl shuddered and then her mind raced on to even worse things the man might have done to the maid. By the time she had scared herself shitless, her new master came into the room.
"No," she yelled. "You don't touch me! I… I'll scream!"
"Go on and scream. The room is soundproofed. Besides, there is no one who cares within miles."
"I don't believe you."
"That's your perogative. But, let me put it another way. Screaming hurts my ears and if you hurt my ears, I shall discipline you. Discipline you very effectively."
She screamed.
The man cringed slightly but gave no other outward sign of noticing her outburst. She kept screaming. He slowly walked around her as if studying a piece of sculpture devoid of all life.
When her throat was raw, Vicki stopped yelling. She was panting, almost crying from exhaustion. The man came and removed the untouched food from in front of her.
"Since you seem more interested in shouting than eating, I think it would be best if I punished you now."
She looked up at him, her brown eyes going wide with fear. He hadn't been kidding about disciplining her. He meant every word he said. She was just beginning to realize that Mr. Valentine never joked about anything. He was deadly serious.
The emphasis on "deadly".
"See those eye-bolts fastened into the ceiling? By the mirrors over the bed?"
She looked up and saw them. They appeared to be innocuous. They couldn't possibly bring her any more pain than she'd felt at the receiving end of his wooden stick.
She was wrong.
The man quickly fastened slender chains through the eye-bolts in the ceiling and produced a pair of soft leather cuffs. Even though she struggled, he managed to place the cuffs on her wrists. When she was stretched out above the bed, her knees resting on the surface, he went and fumbled out another set of the soft leather cuffs.
"For your ankles," he told her.
Then she panicked. He was going to hoist her up so that she was hanging suspended by only her wrists and ankles. She couldn't allow that. She kicked out – hard.
And missed. His hands easily caught her leg and pulled it upward. The man fastened the leather cuff around her ankle and then jerked to one side. The pain shooting though her taut cunt made her slide her other leg right into his grip.
Before she knew it, she was hanging about a foot from the surface of the bed, dangling suspended only by her wrist and ankle.
"There. That doesn't hurt much now. But it will. Soon," he promised.
She was already feeling uncomfortable. The pain lancing across her shoulders told of the immense strain on her wrists and arms. And her hips were taking up the rest of the load. No, it wouldn't be long before she was in dire pain.
And that was only the beginning. The way he had strung her up made her legs drift wide apart. Her cunt was open to his lewd and obscene gaze. And there was no doubt he was looking.
The girl could see the man's eyes gleaming with an evil inner light as he studied her strung-up body. She was helpless, totally at his mercy.
And the man had mercy for her. She knew that. This was going to be a long and painful session with Mr. Valentine. The way her body weight was already working on her arms, shoulders, legs and hip joints told her that.
"So, my slave is beginning to see how her master operates, eh?" the man said, a slight leer to his lips. "You shall learn even more in the next few minutes!"
Vicki didn't like the sound of that. She was already in pain and it was getting worse every second. The girl's struggles only added to the agony so she stopped and simply hung. Her ass almost touched the top of the bed, almost.
The man had been calculating in the way he'd hoisted her up. She was hung so that her legs would remain wide spread no matter how she moved and her cunt would always be open for his inspection. And other things, as she quickly found out.
"No, master, no! You can't do that!" she screamed.
He advanced on her, the wooden whip in his hands. The way it snapped hard against his hand, she knew this could kill her if he really got to swinging it. And he would, he would!
The first blow from the singing wood rod smashed across her tits. The red welt formed directly on her nipples. But, like when he had used the wooden rod on her cunt, lips, her body became confused. The stimulation wasn't felt so much as pain as pleasure. Her nipples began to harden just as if she had been promised the best fucking ever.
As more and more excited blood pounded into her nipples, the erectile nubbins hardened. She felt her tits expanding with the blood to the point where she was certain they would pop from being over inflated.
"So the slut likes it? I thought so!"
And then the man really began to rain blows down on her soft, tender young body. The rod rose and fell repeatedly. Each time, the teenager cringed before the blow landed. The stinging pain ripped through her entire body, no matter where the wooden stick landed.
If he was whipping her flat, smooth belly, she felt pain throughout her legs. The way he was beating her made the pressure increase on her arms and legs. He was systematically guaranteeing she would feel more and more pain.
The beating was bad, the other pain was worse.
And Mr. Valentine continued meting it out to the young girl until she was crying in abysmal agony.
"Would you like something in your cunt, slave?" he demanded.
"Yes," she sobbed, "yes, anything, anything! It has to be better than what you're doing to me now!"
She was wrong.
He took the end of the rod and lightly touched the inside of her thigh. She cringed again at the feathery caress. She knew instantly what he was going to do to her.
"Please, no, you… you can't ram that stick up my cunt! You… you'll hurt ale!"
"You think yourself so valuable an investment that I wouldn't?"
That answered her question. He would do whatever gave him pleasure. She was nothing more than an expendable commodity. She wondered how many others he had bought and tortured to death or maimed totally. She guessed the number was large, too large.
Then she wasn't thinking of anything at all but the pain in her cunt. The end of the wood rod edged down the soft inner flesh of her thigh and finally touched her cunt lips. When he jerked the stick a little bit, he inserted the end of the rod about an inch into her cunt.
"Stop this, stop it!" she was crying. It didn't matter to the man. He wasn't listening. He was too busy seeing the way her pussy lips jerked and twitched as he inserted the rod up her cunt.
"You're not frothy yet," he accused. "Get excited over my rod or I shall really punish you!"
How could she possibly get juiced up in the cunt over what he was doing to her? That was impossible – or was it?
As the rod began twisting around inside her, she felt the vague stirrings of lust. This was so totally unexpected she was surprised by it. Pier tits hurt horribly from the beating he had given them. The red welts stood out like red lines on a road map where the wooden rod had smashed into tender titflesh. And her arms and legs were aching from simply having her weight hung on them.
But this!
It was obscene!
And she was getting off on it. The stick went another inch into her cunt. Then another and another. She felt her softly clutching pussy walls recoil in horror at the first rough touch of the wood stick. Then she actually felt her cunt oils begin to seep from her twat.
She was responding to him!
It didn't seem possible, yet it was happening. She hated herself for this. She shouldn't help get his sick thrills.
But she was.
Looking straight up into the overhead mirror, she could see everything he was doing to her. The sagging body, the ugly red welts all over her belly and tits, the aroused nipples, even her pinkly scalloped cunt lips spreading wide apart to lewdly kiss the wood rod stuffed into her cunt.
She wanted to die.
She felt the end of the rod nudge hard into the top of her cunt. No man had a cock long enough to reach that far into her guts. The three foot stick was both slender enough and long enough to drive hard all the way into her guts.
And Mr. Valentine did just that with it.
Swinging her back and forth, he began fucking her with the rod and the motion of her own body. She was sure he was ripping her apart inside. That was the way her cunt walls felt. The thin oozing had to be blood. Nothing else would seep out of her cunt like that.
Finally, Mr. Valentine said, "I think you are ready for my cock. I shall fuck you now."
She watched it sick horror as the man got up onto the bed, jerked down his zipper to reveal his rigid cock and then moved forward. No matter how she turned her head, she could see part of the scene reflected in the mirrors. Overhead, to the sides, down her body, all of it came directly to her. She had never felt more helpless in her life as when he stuffed his prick into her cunt.
Still, this was better than having that damnable wooden rod inside her. This was living, jerking, pulsating cock. It was all-male and virile. She could bear this. It was so much better than the other things he had done to her.
Or she thought she could bear up under this fucking.
She was wrong. Mr. Valentine had more than simple fucking in mind when he drove his long, hard cock into her twat.
His cock was buried balls deep in her convulsing pussy. Then he began applying his rod to her fleshy ass. He whipped her lightly at first, then with harder and harder strokes. She felt her assflesh warming under the rod.
Then it was turning a fierce red, blistering under the onslaught of the wood rod. And her cunt was tightening up around his prick as a result. She found herself both liking and hating this.
She hated the pain, but the delight surging into her cunt! It was a positive-negative feeling. The girl tried to concentrate on all the good feelings he was creating in her body.
Beating her ass had made his prick seem larger and larger in her pussy until she could barely stand it. When he began moving slowly back and forth, lightly fucking her, she came. It wasn't anything she could hold back, either. It was all too intense for her to bottle up inside for later.
"So you like this little fucking, eh? Now we will really fuck and I shall see if you like that!"
"Yes, oh sweet Jesus, yes! Fuck me good!"
She could forget the pain in her arms and legs. She could forget how he had beaten her across the tender tits and vulnerable belly. She could even push it out of her mind how he had beaten her ass to get her cunt to tighten up around his prick.
As long as he fucked her well, that was all she cared about.
But again, the teenager didn't reckon on the man's nasty streak. A simple fucking wasn't his style. Everything he did bad to involve pain – the pain of others.
He started fucking her with longer and longer strokes. At first, this was heaver for the girl. Then her body started to swing to and fro. The pressure on her shoulders and hips increased. She felt as if he were ripping her apart at the cunt. Her legs ached and her arms were leaden. Even holding her head up was becoming a real strain. Tiny demons of pain danced across her shoulders and leaped on her neck.
She hurt all over.
While her cunt was experiencing some of the most stimulating, pleasurable feelings imaginable.
Mr. Valentine gave both pleasure and pain – but the pain always had the edge in intensity.
The teenaged girl was able to compare how the pain was so much worse than the pleasure. And the contrast made her orgasm again. His cock was simply too large in her tight cunt for her to ignore.
He fucked faster and faster into her yawning pussy. The power of each stroke made her swing back in a larger arc. When her body smashed into his, their crotches ground together in an erotic mesh. And the lewd squishy noise of his cock spearing deeply into her liquid cunt filled her ears. Everything he was doing seemed so normal, except it gave her more pain every second.
When she was swinging in a large arc, smashing hard into his cock at the end of every swing, he added a new dimension to her pain. The wooden rod had been quiet for too long. Now it whistled through the air to land on her fleshy ass once more.
The pain ignited still another climax in the girl's body. She moaned and howled in pain and joy as she came. Her entire body shook as if it were possessed by a demon of lust. And then she was back in her body, experiencing the agony of swollen joints and strained muscles while a huge prick fucked her pussy.
The girl blacked out for a few seconds, only to recover consciousness and find the man still whipping her ass. The pain lancing into her ass spread a warmth throughout her loins. Her cunt caught fire and convulsed powerfully around the man's cock.
At the end of one of her long swings, everything came together again. The pain from her whipped ass, the throbbing cock filling her cunt to overflowing, the harsh impact of her crotch against his all met and merged in one huge come.
He was laughing at her. She could hear his deep, resonant laugh as he plugged her repeatedly with his cock. And then the wooden rod smashed down into her tits once again.
Her entire body was hurting so bad she didn't know how she could stand another instant of it. But she did. She grimly hung on, swinging like an erotic pendulum back and forth. All she existed for was feeling that huge virile cock shoved deep into her cunt. This was all the joy she got in the whole damned world.
"Come, slave, come!" he bellowed. "I want to feel that velvety cunt of yours all around my cock, gripping down hard, hard with the force of your come!"
The words seared her brain. She shook her head from side to side, sending a lustrous brown cascade of her hair flowing around her face. She couldn't give him any pleasure. She couldn't!
This evil man didn't deserve it. But if she didn't, what would he do to her then?
That question frightened her. She didn't even want to think about it any more. She tried to think of nothing but the glorious feelings ripping her cunt apart. The melted butter warmth filling her belly was replaced by a more demanding feeling.
The sexual tensions were building. Every time he swung her back to let her swoop down onto his impaling spike of pure cock, she felt a little more inside her.
Then it all exploded in a frenzy of motion. She bucked and swung and hunched trying to get more of his prick into her needy cunt. She had to have it. Nothing less than a total fucking would satisfy her.
Cunt squeezing down on the prick inside with impressive force, she came. Her entire world whirled and spun crazily around her until she was too dizzy to know what was happening.
She came again.
The rod beat her body. She let me. The thick cock reamed out her cunt. She came. Her arms hurt. She came.
Exhausted, she hung limp and tired from the chains circling her wrists and ankles.
The first thing she noticed was the empty feeling in her pussy. It was no longer filled with thrilling cock. Her master had withdrawn.
A sudden fear gripped her drained body. Had she pleased him enough? Would he torture her any more? Those were the only things she worried about as she fainted again.