Before Annabelle had grasped what he meant, he pissed in her face, the hot stream of stinking pee bursting over her. She wanted to scream, but she couldn't, or it would get into her mouth. She closed her eyes, tried not to breathe as he held his cock and pissed on her, directing the stream of pee into her face, then down, over her tits.
The salt in the piss burnt her sore flesh, but the degradation was much worse. As the stream was directed away from her face and onto her tits, Annabelle did scream, wailing on the toilet as she felt the piss running down her body, over her tits, down her tummy and into the toilet to join her own pee.
"Shut up, whore!" he snapped and lifted his cock, splashing her face.
She stopped screaming instantly. He held the chain tightly as he moved his cock down and held his stream of piss on her tits, watching it with delight as it splashed on her twin globes and then ran down and into the toilet. Finally the stream stopped and Annabelle sat on the lavatory seat, stinking and shaking with horror.
Antony stuffed his cock into her mouth. "Clean it!"
Annabelle licked the cock-head, but there didn't seem to be any piss really left.
He pulled back and snarled at her. "You smell like a sewer! Now get in that shower and clean off, whore!"
Annabelle came out of the shower shivering with the enduring honor of what she faced. Antony was still there, waiting for her. His cock hadn't gone down at all, or, at least, it was back up, and Annabelle shuddered as she remembered the streams of cum and piss that had jetted out of it.
"Came here," he said.
Annabelle walked over to him, water glistening on her body. She had washed herself compulsively and was as clean as she had ever been, but there wasn't a towel to be seen.
Antony held out the collar to her. "Put it on."
"No, please, not…"
"Bend over." He slapped the cane into his hand.
"No, don't, please let me…"
"That's two strokes, three with one more word."
Annabelle stifled her moan and bent slowly, sticking her sore ass out for more. She held still, gasping a little as Antony walked around her, inspecting her beautiful body.
"You know," he said, "you really are something else."
He cased his hand under her trembling body and caressed her tits, squeezing her nipples almost gently.
"How many men have fucked you?"
"J-just one," Annabelle said. He held her hair and whipped her ass. "Just one, what?"
"Aaaaabhh! Just one, sir."
"Better, you forget that a lot. Just one, huh?" He stroked the cane across Annabelle's painful, red-lined ass.
"Yes sir."
"And what was it like?" he asked, sliding his fingers into the crack of her ass, probing, reaching for her asshole.
Annabelle wanted to scream, to tear at him as he penetrated to the most private parts of her body, but she knew better. She choked, trembled, but stayed still.
"It was, it was terrible, sir," she said, her asshole twisting tighter as his finger caressed the crinkled ring of muscles.
"Why?" he asked, stroking his finger down, towards her pussy.
"He, he only – I don't know, sir!" Annabelle wept, keeping her hands on her knees as he ran his finger over her clit.
"He what?"
"He-he only – he came very fast, sir," Annabelle moaned.
"So one thrust up this cunt of yours and he shot his wad, huh?"
"Yes sir," Annabelle said, shame coloring her face.
"Well, you can't say you've had that trouble here, have you?" he asked mockingly, stroking her pussy.
"No, no sir," Annabelle choked, watching his massive cock sticking out, swinging like an iron rod as he moved.
Annabelle gasped, clutching her knees tightly. She was in the same turmoil as before. The fear and agony as before. The fear and agony she suffered were mingling with that depraved lust that had surged over her on the table. And it had lingered, growing and receding with each perverted deed she was forced to perform. It burned inside her, and nothing would make it stop. His fingers worked over her pussy and she was getting wet, she could feel it.
He chuckled as he moved a finger to her cunthole and slid it in a little. It went in easily, and the touch sent more juices flowing in the helpless librarian's fuck-hole.
"Now," he said quietly. "I believe you have two strokes of the cane coming, don't you?"
Annabelle groaned, but her pussy ran faster with juice, his finger worked over her cunt-walls and she shuddered with the horrible rising lust.
"Yes sir," she moaned, her ass driving back, ramming his finger harder into her cunt.
"You're a whore," he whispered. "A whore, you know that?"
His voice was so soft and gentle, and his finger stroked her pussy-walls with such skill that Annabelle almost came on the spot.
She started to cry, her body shaking helplessly. "Whatever you say, sir."
"Oh no, don't worry," he said. "I'll prove it to you, very soon."
Something about him was sending Annabelle into shivers she just couldn't stop. She choked and gripped her legs tightcr. Her skin was almost dry now.
"Put your hand where mine is," Antony said softly. He pinched her clit to make his point.
Annabelle could hardly breathe as she slid one hand up her thigh and onto her pussy. Antony took his hand away and watched as she rubbed her trembling pussy-slit.
"Open your legs farther," he ordered.
Naked, standing bent almost double on the floor of the bathroom, Annabelle slid her feet apart, widening the gash of her pussy for her fingers. Very slowly Antony laid the cane across her ass and rolled it there, softly on her beaten flesh.
"Tell me how you feel," he murmured.