### BZ-163 ###
Bondage Babysitter
by Unknown


CHAPTER ONE

Ever since my body had begun to… change, if you know what I mean, I had had graphic, 
lewd, erotic fantasies about doing things… with guys, I mean. I let my imagination run wild as I
stared at myself in the bedroom mirror, and wondered what it would be like to have sex.

Sometimes I would position myself in the only two sexual positions I had ever heard of, 
either on all fours, or on my back… legs spread… and pretend some hunky guy was pounding 
away at me. It was really exciting, but hardly a substitute for the real thing.

The problem was I was just too shy and too afraid of getting a reputation, to do it. The big 
IT I mean. I went on dates, and me and some guys would, like, grope each other, mostly 
through our clothes, and neck, of course, but the idea of taking down my pants and letting 
him… you know… was just too embarrassing.

After awhile, partly because I couldn’t imagine saying yes, I started fantasizing more and 
more about rape. I mean, I figured that was about the only way I was ever going to lose my 
cherry.

I built up some pretty elaborate fantasies over time, for use while I was masturbating. In 
most of them I was jumped by some terrible guy… or even guys… out in a field or something, 
stripped naked, then lewdly and obscenely used again and again by them.

After awhile that got boring, so I built up the fantasies further. Now I was kidnapped by 
white slavers, hung by my wrists, whipped, raped, sodomized, and made to do all kinds of 
disgusting things… disgusting and exciting things.

Sometimes I would lay out on my bed naked, and spread my arms and legs wide, like they 
were tied to the four corners, then I would close my eyes and grind my hips upwards as if a 
lewd rapist was abusing me.

In front of the mirror, I would stand with my hands together high above me, and look at 
myself stretched out, imagining I was hanging by the wrists.

Of course, since I couldn’t bring myself to actually let a guy… fuck me… I could hardly find 
someone to tie me up and rape me. Well, you know what I mean. I suppose I could have 
paraded through alleyways in a mini, but then I was as likely to get my face beat in, or stabbed
as get fucked.

Anyway, I jerked off a lot and these fantasies played a major part in the enjoyment, but I 
never really thought I’d, like, do things like that for real, not in this life anyway. Then while I 
was babysitting for some people that lived next door, I got curious.

Well, I always got curious when I was in other people’s homes, but I’d never found 
anything like what I found in the Harris’s basement that night.

I’d started in their bedroom, of course, and was delighted, faintly scandalized, slightly 
disgusted, and kind of turned on, to find a big, pink dildo stuck in the bottom of her 
underwear drawer. I even considered… you know, trying it on myself.

Also in her underwear drawer were all sorts of slinky, sexy, even trashy lingerie, stuff I’d 
heard about, even seen in catalogs, but never actually seen in person. I’m not just talking 
about lacy and silky undies here, but crotchless panties, nippleless bras, leather bustiers and 
G-strings, stuff like that.

It kind of turned me on, you know, but hell, I was in someone else’s home, and there was 
always the chance they could come home early, so I couldn’t, you know, strip off and play in 
their undies, nor could I really grab the woman’s dildo and start pumping myself.

So I left things mostly undisturbed and snooped around in the rest of the room. After 
there I went downstairs, then finally wound up in the basement. There’s seldom much of 
interest in a person’s basement, but, like I said, I was bored.

There was a rec room with a TV and chairs and tables, and next to that a laundry room. 
There was a door leading from the laundry room to… something, but I couldn’t tell what 
because it was locked. The funny thing was that it was a really good quality door, with a really 
strong dead-bolt lock, and that really roused my curiosity. What in heck was it doing here? It 
sure didn’t look like the kind of door you put on a closet.

Then I remembered the little set of keys I’d found in Mrs. Harris’ underwear drawer. I 
scurried back upstairs to the master bedroom, fetched the keys, and scurried back down 
again. I tried a couple of keys and the lock turned.

I opened the door, which was even heavier than I’d thought, and peered through. All I saw
was black, of course. I pushed it open further, then reached over to the wall and moved my 
hand around, searching for the light switch.

The room was flooded with light and I blinked in astonishment at what I saw.

The room was about ten feet wide and maybe twice that long. It had no windows, and the 
walls were all unfinished stone. There was a large brass bed set at the near end, with a huge 
mirror fixed to the wall above it, and a couple of chairs set against a table further along the 
same wall. There was also a big TV on a stand at the foot of the bed.

There were two camcorders set on tripods, one at the foot of the bed, and the other 
against the wall next to the bed, and both were hooked to VCRs. There was a small cupboard 
set into the wall that turned out to hold dozens of tapes, many with labels that contained 
names and dates.

There were two… small rooms, at the far end, but the doors to them were bars, like a 
prison cell would have, you know, and yes, they did indeed lock. In front of them were chains 
that hung down from the ceiling, and shackles fixed to bolts set high on the stone walls there. 
There were two large mirrors on the walls, each about six feet high and four feet wide.

There were leather straps on all four corners of the table, and also on the bed, and a shelf 
next to the table was filled with ropes, cords, chains, steel and leather handcuffs and restraints,
ball-gags, blindfolds, dildos and vibrators in a dozen different sizes, thicknesses and colors, 
leather gloves, stiletto heeled boots and shoes, and all kinds of other kinky things like studded
leather wrist bands, colors and belts.

Next to the shelves, on the wall, were hung whips of every sort, from the long, curled bull 
whip, to the short riding crops and the Cat o’ Nine tails. There were also straps, belts and 
canes of various lengths and thicknesses.

Against the other wall, on the left, was a wooden stand of some sort which consisted of a 
heavy base, and upright two by four that rose to about chest height, and a horizontal two by 
four that was stuck on top of that like a T.

On the front of the vertical two by four was a kind of L shaped object well, it looked like a 
thick, wooden dildo, except it suddenly curved to stick into the vertical wooden two by four. I 
touched it and saw that it even had a carved head.

It had a plug at the side of the base that stuck it into the wooden frame so it stuck straight
up along the frame, separated by about an inch or two, and there were several holes above 
and below where it was plugged in. I pulled straight out and the thing came loose from the 
hole it was plugged into. I stuck it back in, shacking my head.

The purpose of the stand was obvious, especially since there were wooden straps on the 
ends of the crossbar, and at waist and ankle height on the vertical beam. A woman would 
obviously stand against this thing with her pussy down on the dildo. Why, I didn’t know, 
though I suspected it was so someone could whip her back and behind.

I shivered at the idea, even pressed myself against the frame and held my arms along the 
crossbar. I felt the wooden plug against my crotch, and fought the urge to strip off my pants 
and try and slide the thing inside me. I was getting homier and homier as I wandered around 
the room examining things, for this place looked like something out of my fantasies.

The other notable things in there were a sawhorse which had several rings screwed in at 
various places, and a wheeled cart which contained a double cassette deck, and a machine 
which looked like the battery charger my dad used on his car battery when it was dead.

My pussy was really hot and warm as I went back to the TV and studied the way it was 
hooked to the VCRs. It was a bit complicated, what with two VCRs and two camcorders 
hooked up, but I figured out how to play a tape and took a couple out of the cupboard.

The first tape said, Jack and Suzanne, July 12/92. I knew that Mister Harris’s first name was 
Jack, but didn’t know who Suzanne was. The picture came on the TV and I saw the same room
I was in. The camera moved in tot he end of the room, and showed one of the jail cells, I guess
they were. There was a woman in it, and she was naked.

My pussy really started to shimmer when I saw that, for there could no longer be any 
doubt that this was a sex tape. I watched as the camera peered in at the blond through the 
bars of her cell.

“Please fuck me, Master,” she begged, looking at the camera. “Please take me out and fuck
me!”

Holy shit!

I stared in astonishment as the cell door opened and the woman, who had been kneeling 
behind it, crawled out. The camera showed a man’s legs and she crawled to them, then 
dropped her head down and began licking at his black leather boots.

“Master!” she moaned. “Master!”

She licked and slurped all over his boots as I stared in shocked excitement. The camera 
panned out a little more, and then the man bent and seized the woman by the hair. She cried 
out in pain as he dragged her to her feet and shoved her against the bars face first.

It was Mister Harris! I saw him now appear in the picture, clad in leather pants that had no 
crotch, but just a kind of black leather G-string covering himself, He had studded leather wrist 
bands on, and nothing else. “Stupid whore!” he cursed the woman, slapping his hand on her 
ass so hard it made a loud crack of noise. I gasped as I saw the red hand mark left on her 
white behind.

He shoved the woman’s hands through the bars high up, then handcuffed them there.

“Fuck me, Master,” she moaned. “Please fuck me!”

“Shut up, whore,” he snapped.

The camera backed up so the woman was in the frame from head to foot. Mister Harris 
disappeared from sight for a few seconds, then the camera angle changed and showed him 
walking back. He held a long leather whip in his hand and raised it high.

I held my breath, suddenly realizing that I was squeezing my pussy through my jeans. I 
stared at the leather whip as it rose higher and higher, then watched it hissing down and 
cracking across her shoulders. She screamed horribly and kind of fell, hanging by her wrists as 
she sobbed in pain and jerked and twisted in helpless misery.

Except she didn’t look all that miserable. The whip lashed down again, lashing her ass 
cheeks, leaving an angry red welt behind. It drove her into the bars and she cried out again, 
whimpering and whining and moaning.

“Ha… hhhh… haaarder!” she gasped.

The whip lashed down on her back and behind again and again, knocking her off her feet 
several times as she screamed and wailed in pain. Then mister Harris halted. He got a couple 
of chains and went to the woman, bending over her as she moaned.

He pushed both chains in between her legs and attached them to the bars some way up 
near her belly. Then he pulled them down through her legs, circling under her buttocks and 
locking them to the bars alongside her, one on the right, one on the left.

I wondered what this was for, at first, since she obviously couldn’t get away anyway, not 
with the handcuffs locking her to the bars, but then I saw Suzanne start to rub herself against 
the thick chains. Mister Harris picked up the whip and resumed the beating as Suzanne 
humped and rode the chains for all she was worth.

Then her head jerked back and her back arched as she trembled violently. Mister Harris 
delivered a flurry of hard, fast blows to her ass that drove her back and forth on the chains as 
she whimpered and grunted and moaned in what sure seemed to be pleasure to me.

Mister Harris stopped whipping then, as Suzanne hung there limp and moaning. He threw 
down the whip and undid his G-string thing, and I watched, entranced, as his huge cock stuck 
out hard and thick and dark, angry red.

I couldn’t help myself. I had to undo my pants and shove my hand down the front to rub 
at my pussy meat as Mister Harris stepped up behind Suzanne and pressed his cock against 
her ass. The camera dipped low and closed in so I could see his bulging cock pressing, not 
against her pussy, but against her asshole.

He was going to sodomize her!

I rubbed furiously on my clitty, blazing heat flowing through me as I saw his cock entering 
Suzanne’s asshole. It drove up inside her, more and more of his cock disappearing through 
the tight little hole until his hips were pressed firmly against her whip-marked ass cheeks.

“Dirty, stinking whore,” he snarled at her.

“Worthless fuck hole! Sluttish tramp!”

He thrust up hard, mashing her against the bars as he rammed his cock up into her 
asshole. She grunted and moaned with each deep thrust, her head jerking and rolling 
bonelessly as Mister Harris ground his hips into her ass and reamed out her anus.

I was shocked to see all this. I mean, I’d never even seen a porno movie and this wasn’t a 
movie, it was real! My pussy was burning, and I realized I was on the verge of coming from the
lewd, perverted display. I drove my fingers up into my pussy hole and ground my thumb 
down on my clitty with desperate fury as the waves of pleasure rolled through me.

I grunted and humped against my fingers, eyes wide as I watched Mister Harris pounding 
his cock up into Suzanne’s asshole. I wished it were me there, wished Mister Harris was ass 
fucking me like that as I rode a chain.

Then I fell back limply on the bed, panting for breath.

When I recovered a little I stripped off my pants and blouse, removed my underwear, and 
even my shoes and socks, and went naked to the bars. I reached up above and gripped the 
crossbar and pressed my body into the bars, panting and moaning as I spread my legs and 
pushed my ass cheeks out.

I fantasised being ass raped here, fantasised Mister Harris ramming his cock up into my 
asshole. I let go of the bars and went to the shelves, searching through the chains. I pulled 
one loose and slid it between my legs, pulling it up against my pussy, rubbing the cold iron 
links over my swollen breasts and sensitive, erect little nipples.

I was as horny as I’d ever been, and If Mister Harris had come through the door that 
moment he would have been able to do anything he wanted to me. I wouldn’t have resisted 
at all. I actually jerked off on the chain, sliding it back and forth against my pussy, driving it up 
into my cunt crack and sawing it against my sensitive pussy flesh until I came like gang 
busters.

When the Harris’ came home I looked at them in a whole new way. Mrs. Harris still seemed
cold and sexless, with her mannish suit and her dark hair pulled in a tight bun, but Mister 
Harris looked very attractive to me now. I could tell how thick his chest was, how powerfully 
built he was, and, of course, I’d seen him naked. Now I wanted him for myself.

<<< IMAGE 1 >>>





CHAPTER TWO


When Mister Harris called me the next day I was really excited, thinking I’d have another 
chance to get down to their strange little room and look over the tapes there. He didn’t ask 
me to babysit though, but instead asked me to come over for a minute and talk to him about 
something.

Now I felt worried. Was there some way they could have told that I had been looking 
through their drawers, or sneaked into their secret room? I’d been very careful to leave no 
traces of myself but maybe I’d missed something.

I didn’t want to get fired from babysitting there, not before I could copy some of the tapes
in the secret room. I never seriously considered joining Mister Harris in his weird sadistic 
games because that would be way too embarrassing. Like I said before, I was a shy girl, and 
appearing naked in front of a virtual stranger was too embarrassing to imagine.

Still, I dressed to be… attractive. My hair was kind of a dirty blonde. It was usually straight 
because I could do so much with it that way. Right now it was all curled because I was trying 
out curls this week.

I wore a tight at the chest green shirt and tight white skirt, knowing how they showed off 
my fine, rounded ass. I walked across to the Harris’s place, wondering if I could lie my way 
through whatever it was that he thought I’d done. I knocked and waited.

Mister Harris appeared, wearing casual slacks and a shirt.

“Hi, Sandra, come in,” he said, pushing the door open and holding it there for me as I 
came inside.

He closed it behind me and followed me into the living room.

“Sit down,” he said, motioning to a chair. I sat, uneasily.

“Care for a drink of something?”

“Uhm, no thanks.”

He sat down across from me and smiled.

“Is, uh, something wrong?” I asked.

“Oh, it depends on the way you look at things I suppose.”

“Huh?”

“Sandy, were you by any chance sorting through my wife’s bureau yesterday night?”

“Huh? No!” I exclaimed, looking surprised.

“You didn’t take a set of keys from her underwear drawer and unlock the door downstairs 
in the basement?”

“No, sir!” I gasped, shaking my head in certainty.

He nodded, then he picked up a remote control and pointed it at the TV, which sat next to
us, a VCR under it. The VCR clicked on and the picture of a talk show host disappeared. In it’s 
place was me, sitting on the edge of the bed downstairs, watching the TV at the foot of the 
bed.

A flashfire of shock ran through me as I saw myself. The picture was taken from the side, 
and as I watched in horror, I saw myself undoing my pants and sliding my hand down the 
front. My head threatened to explode with shame and horror and mortification as the TV 
showed me masturbating while watching the TV downstairs.

“Oh God!!” I moaned.

He turned up the sound on the TV. I could hear the other TV, the one I’d been watching, 
could hear the words on it, but could also hear myself, gasping, panting, moaning, as I rubbed
my pussy and stared at the TV.

“We were surprised, to say the least, when we went downstairs and found the tape in one 
of the cameras had been almost all used up,” Mister Harris said. “We were even more 
surprised to see you on it.” Somehow, while I’d fooled with the TV and the switches that 
connected it to the two VCRs and two camcorders, I’d activated one of the camcorders, the 
one that was next to the bed. It had recorded almost everything I’d done afterwards.

I saw myself stripping naked, unable to move, unable to speak, unable to even breath as I 
saw myself strip utterly nude, then wander across the room to the bars at the far side. Since 
the camera was pointed across the bed, it could easily see me moving away and then pressing
myself against the bars. It even showed me getting the chains and jerking off on them, 
grunting and moaning as I humped my groin back and forth and sawed the chain along my 
pussy pad.

I gaped at the image in horrified shock, in terrible humiliation, unable to rip my eyes free 
until Mister Harris turned it off. I stared down at my hands which were clenched tightly in my 
lap, unable to look at him, mortified beyond belief.

“Well, you little whore, don’t you have anything to say?”

I cringed under the harsh words, but didn’t move or look up until Mister Harris came over 
to me. I looked up in fear as he glared down at me, then half fell off the chair as I stumbled to 
get away. I staggered backwards as he walked remorselessly forward, until my back ran up 
against the wall.

I whimpered, then looked down at the floor as Mister Harris halted in front of me.

“You filthy, little slut!” he hissed, the words striking me like blows. “Of all the cheap, sluttish
things I’ve seen, this takes the cake. Here you are supposed to be babysitting, and instead 
you’re breaking into a locked basement room and masturbating!”

Were it possible, I would have died of embarrassment right then and there.

“Well, I know how to treat little whores like you,” he hissed.

Suddenly his hands shot out and grabbed the front of my shirt. Before I could react he 
ripped the whole front of my shirt open, baring my chest and belly. I cried out in shock, 
gaping at him as his right hand swung down and slapped me right across the face.

My head was thrown to one side, then his hands gripped my lacy black bra and tore it 
open between the cups. My full, rounded breasts thrust out free and naked, the bright pink 
nipples painfully apparent. I was stunned, both by the sudden violence, and my horrifying 
nudity.

Nobody had ever seen my exposed breasts, and nobody had ever struck me in the face. 
The whole left side of my face was still aching as my mind churned, the wheels spinning 
uselessly, unable to grasp onto any idea, any thought, any reaction.

Then his left hand swung up and struck the right side of my face. Again my head was 
rocked to the side, as Mister Harris suddenly drove his heavy body against me, crushing me 
against the wall. His left hand snaked around behind my head and gripped my hair, jerking it 
back cruelly, making me scream in pain as my hair was pulled.

My head was jerked way back, and his teeth bit down on my throat as his other hand slid 
around me and ripped the remains of my shirt right off my back. Then his hand shot down to 
my ass and squeezed it tight, crushing me in against him as his mouth bit and chewed and 
sucked on my throat.

I sobbed in dazed horror, not knowing what to do, unable to comprehend what was 
happening. Mr. Harris pulled back and I fell back against the wall, but only briefly, for his 
hands were on me at once, grasping my breasts, squeezing them violently, mashing the soft, 
tender breast meat with his harsh, cruel fingers.

I cried out in pain and horror as his hands clawed at my sensitive mammaries, then sobbed
as his mouth darted down and sucked in my right nipple. His mouth gaped open, then closed,
his teeth and lips clamping down on a fat mass of tit meat, crushing and sucking it as his 
tongue lapped at my pink nipple.

I sobbed and slapped against him, and he jerked back, then slapped my face again, 
throwing me back against the wall. His hands went to the waistband of my skirt and he jerked 
them open, then he grabbed my arm, spinning me around and shoving me face-first into the 
wall.

He jerked my skirt down below my ass, then lower still. He pulled it violently, tearing my 
legs out from under me. I fell on my side, crying out in pain as my legs were pulled up high. 
Then the skirt was ripped free of my feet and my legs fell.

Panting and sobbing, I twisted and crawled rapidly away, only to have something hard, 
Mister Harris’s foot, slam into my cunt from underneath and behind. It hit me so hard, and the
pain was so terrible, that my hind end was thrown upwards and I flipped right over onto my 
back.

I came down heavily on my back, gurgling in horrified pain, my hands clutching my pussy 
as the agony and nausea and dizziness churned within my guts. Mister Harris reached down 
and gripped my thick, tangled hair, wound it around his hand, then turned and began 
dragging me away.

I screamed in new pain, one hand clutching his wrist, trying to ease the pull on my hair, the
other clutching my agonized pussy mound. Mister Harris dragged me across the floor and 
into the kitchen, then opened the door to the basement and dragged me down the stairs.

I bounced down behind him, crying out as the edges of the stairs slammed against my 
shoulders and back and buttocks. He just kept pulling, dragging me down behind him until 
we reached the basement floor. Then he dragged me across the floor to the other door.

He pulled me through and up to the now unlocked, open door to the secret room, then 
reached down and gripped my arm, pulling me roughly to my feet.

“Dirty little whore,” he snarled. “Filthy little fuck-beast. I know what whores like you need.”

I still had my brief little string bikini panties on, as well as my garter belt and stockings. 
Now Mister Harris gripped the panties and tore them loose, leaving my most private parts all 
exposed, utterly naked.

Filled with pain from my still throbbing pussy and burning scalp, I quailed under his angry, 
lust-filled gaze. He swung me around and threw me on the bed, then slammed the door 
behind him and locked it.

He turned to me, his grin vicious and evil.

“I’m going to fuck you till it comes out your ears, you foul, filthy little fuck-beast,” he 
growled.

“P… P… Pleeeease,” I sobbed, trying to scuttle back on the bed.

He sneered and approached me, reaching down and grabbing at my ankles. I kicked at 
him, but he ignored the kicks, grabbing one ankle and jerking me roughly towards him. I 
weighed practically nothing to the large man, and he jerked my ankle high, lifting me half off 
the bed.

Then he brought his other hand, fingers closed into a fist, right down against my exposed 
pussy pad. I howled in pain as the big, hard fist smacked into the soft, tender, sensitive pussy 
meat. Mister Harris only laughed and dragged me right off the bed again.

He turned me around, one hand gripping the back of my neck, the other sliding in 
between my flailing thighs and gripping my pussy. He lifted me off my belly and held me, 
positioned on hands and knees on the floor.

“Kneel there, whore,” he ordered. “I’m going to take my cock out and ram it up your filthy 
fuck hole now. You kneel there like the dirty little bitch in heat you are!”

I knelt there, sobbing and whimpering, blinded by the tears in my eyes as Mister Harris 
stood up. I didn’t look up, but was aware of him stripping off his shirt, then undoing his pants 
and pulling them down. He took off his shoes and socks, then came around to stand in front 
of me.

“Look up at me, whore,” he ordered.

I slowly raised my teary eyes, shaking in fear and misery and terror, to see Mister Harris 
standing naked in front of me. He seemed huge and muscular, but my eyes flicked only very 
briefly over his powerfully built body, over his thick, muscular arms and legs, and broad 
shoulders.

They stared instead at his thick, bushy mass of pubic hair, and a long, incredibly, 
frighteningly thick penis sticking out straight and hard, all red and purplish, covered in veins 
and hair.

“This is for you, whore,” he smiled, gripping his cock and squeezing it. “This goes right up 
your sluttish fuck tunnel, right up to your belly.”

I moaned in terror, but he only laughed. He eased down onto his knees in front of me and 
gripped my hair.

“You’re going to suck it for me, little whore girl, suck it and get it all wet and slick so I can 
ram it up your cunt hole good and hard and fast.” I’d never even seen a naked cock before, 
and never touched one either. Now Mister Harris gripped my hair and rubbed his cock all over
my face as horror and misery and disgust flooded me.

“Open your mouth, tramp. Open your mouth and suck my boner.”

I cried out in pain as he jerked on my hair, and he abruptly shoved his cock forward, 
forcing it through my lips and into my mouth. I gurgled in surprise, then tried desperately to 
pull away.

“Suck it, whore!” he snarled, jerking my hair painfully. “Suck it and lick it good, or I’ll ram it 
down your fuckin’ throat!”

Desperately I began sucking on his cock, fighting to keep from throwing up at the smell of
sour sweat, fighting to keep it from pushing deeper, from gagging when it did. I licked 
desperately against it too, as Mister Harris jerked it back and forth in my mouth.

“I warned you, whore girl,” he snarled.

Then he gripped my head in his two big, powerful hands and thrust his hard boner 
forward. I screamed, or started to, then his cock smashed right through and into my throat. It 
slid right down my gullet until my nose was crushed up against his pubic bone and his balls 
were pressing against my chin.

I couldn’t make a sound, not a whimper, not a sniffle, not a moan, for his cock blocked my 
throat like a cork in a bottle. I tried to pull away, to draw back, but he had my head tightly 
caught. He ground his pelvis into my face, crushing my nose down as he laughed at me and 
twisted his cock around in my pain-filled throat.

“There you go, slutty girl, now you’ve got a throat full of cock meat. Let’s see you whine 
and complain now!” he laughed.

I twisted and writhed madly, flopping and wriggling and clawing at him in horror as I tried 
to pull free. Then he cursed as my hands raked his thigh, falling back and tearing his cock free 
of my throat. It popped free with an almost audible sound, and I coughed and choked and 
collapsed on the floor, gasping for breath.

“Fucking whore!” he yelled.

He grabbed my hair again and dragged me across the floor. I sobbed and shook and 
begged him to stop, but the angry, ruthless man here with me today was not at all like the 
man I had known before, and he had no mercy.

He pulled my hands out in front of me and tied them tightly together with rope, then 
dragged me to my feet and flung the rope over one of the crossbars on the door of the jail 
cell. This was the very place I had jerked off, and the very place that woman had been raped 
by him.

I was so filled with shock and fear and pain and dazed incomprehension, that I didn’t think
of that, but only stood there trembling and shuddering and sobbing as he bound me to the 
bars.

He stepped back and smiled cruelly as he watched me, folding his arms across his 
powerful chest. Then he walked over to the wall and studied the whips there. He reached up 
and drew one down, a yard of gleaming, soft leather, and walked back to me.

“Please! Please don’t!” I sobbed. “I’m sorry! I won’t do it again! Please! Pleease!”

“Shut up, whore.”

My head twisted this way and that as I tried to see behind me. I pulled desperately at the 
ropes binding my wrists to the bars, but to no avail. Then I heard a hissing sound, and 
something cracked against my buttocks. It didn’t hurt at all, and the blow was not too heavy, 
though it kind of flung my hips against the bars.

But then an instant later a blastwave of boiling agony ripped through my ass and tore into
my brain. I screamed in pain, howling in misery as I tried to tear my hands free so they could 
comfort my aching buttocks. The pain was unbelievable, a hissing, burning flame that was 
more than I could bear.

Then the hiss came again and another blow struck my buttocks, again hurling me against 
the bars. Again came the blastwave of boiling agony, and I screamed again, howling in misery 
and pain, begging him to stop as the hissing came again.

Another blow lashed across my soft buttocks, then another, then another, as I howled and 
screamed and twisted and jerked in helpless agony. Tears poured down my face and my voice 
went hoarse from screaming, yet still the blows cracked across my ass.

Finally they stopped, and I half hung there, sobbing and moaning, my ass on fire with pain,
a brutal, burning, throbbing ache that clawed at my senses.

“That’s what little whores get when they don’t do what they’re told,” he sneered. “And 
you’ll get worse the next time. Understand? Understand?” he snarled, grabbing my hair and 
jerking it back.

“Ye… e..eeesss,” I sobbed.

“Yes, Master!” he screamed, his face right in front of mine, spit flying into my face. “You call
me MASTER!”

“Yes, Master! Yes, Master!” I gasped.

He let go of me and backed up.

“Do you hear me, slut?” he snarled.

“Yes, Master,” I panted.

“Stick your round little ass out. Stick it out at me, slut.”

Whimpering and sniffling, pain flooding my system, I slowly, and shakily pushed my ass 
out.

“More!” he screamed.

I gasped, and pushed my ass out as much as I could.

“Spread your legs. I want to see your dirty little cunt slit! Spread them wide, whore! 
WHORE!”

I sobbed in shame as I eased my legs further and further apart, knowing his evil eyes were 
glued to the small cleft in my pubic mound.

“Yeah. Look at that tight little slit,” he chortled. “A nice little fuck opening for my cock to 
stab through. I’m gonna rape your dirty little CUNT!”

I shuddered, my mind spinning from the horror and shame. I felt his big hand cupping my 
pussy, squeezing and rubbing it as he snickered and giggled in glee.

“There’s nothing better than raping hot assed, slutty little teenagers,” he sneered. “I love to
ram my cocks up their tight little fuck tunnels and flood them with sperm.”

He pressed his cock against my pussy, rubbing it up and down gleefully. I felt his hard, hot 
cock nose rasping against my pussy mound, sliding along the cleft, forcing it wide as it sank 
between. He sawed it back and forth along my pussy slit as he snickered and laughed.

“You can hardly wait, can you, bitch. Dirty whore! Beg for it, slut! Beg me to fuck your dirty 
tramp cunt!”

He pulled my hair back and I cried out in pain again.

“Beg, slut!”

“Pleeease!” I screamed.

“Beg for my cock, you slimy little cunt hole! Beg me to fuck your twat! Beg!”

“Please fuck me!” I screamed, as his hand tore at my hair. “Please fuck me! Please! Please!”

“Master! You didn’t say master!” he snarled, cracking his open hand across my ear so hard 
my head rang.

“Maaaassssteeer!” I sobbed. “Please master! Please fuck me, Master! Please! Please fuck my
twat, Master!”

“You puky little whore!” he sneered.

His hands gripped my thighs and jerked them wider still, as I sobbed and shook and 
trembled. Then I felt his hot cockhead pressing against my cunt opening again, sliding up and 
down against it, then nudging the pussy lips open and sinking inside.

I felt his cock ripping my cunt lips apart, then pressing up against my tiny round virgin 
hole with brutal power and strength. My cunt strained and ached and burned as his fat prick 
tore it open and stabbed into me.

“Ahhh, teenage cunt,” he sighed. “Dirty slut meat wrapped around my cock.”

He gripped my hips and thrust forward. I cried out as his boner pierced my pussy tunnel 
and lanced up into my guts. It smashed up against my cherry, then tore right through with 
barely a pause, as he sank his thick, monster of a cock halfway into my pussy.

“Tight,” he sighed. “Nice fucking snatch.”

His steel hard fingers dug into my flanks as he tore his cock back a little, then he thrust in 
brutally, and I felt his thick shaft ramming up into my belly. My guts heaved and I choked in 
pain as his swollen meat thrust upwards.

I felt it up in my stomach, deep inside me. My guts cramped and ached as my pussy 
burned and strained. His hips ground against my buttocks as he jammed the very last inch of 
prick meat into my no longer virgin pussy hole and laughed in glee.

“Got you now, slut,” he sniggered. “Got you full o’ cock meat. Har, har, har!”

I felt his stiff cock way up in my belly, a hard, long band of… of… hardness that ran from 
my cunt opening to way up in my belly. I felt impaled on the thing, felt it throbbing 
malevolently inside me, hard, and hot and evil.

“Oohhhhhh,” I moaned.

“Yeah, you bet, slut,” he sniggered. “That’s a no boy prick. That’s a man’s cock up in your 
slutty twat hole!”

He gave me no time to get used to it, but immediately began to tear it back and forth. It 
felt like my whole insides were being ripped to and fro as he held my hips in a tight embrace 
and fucked his big cock into my aching pussy tunnel.

His hands loosened, then slid up my body and cupped my breasts, mashing and squeezing
and kneading them as he began to fuck me with a hard, deep, steady stroke. His hips spanked
my sore ass cheeks as he pistoned his big cock back and forth inside me, and his teeth 
gnawed at the back of my throat as his hands milked my heavy breasts.

“Whore,” he growled. “Slut! Tramp!”

His cock pounded into me, his hips smashing into my aching buttocks as he grunted and 
growled and raped me in the most brutal fashion. I could feel his awful boner as it thrust up 
into me again and again and again and again, a never-ending stabbing motion that reamed 
out my burning fuck tunnel.

I know I had jerked off to fantasies of being raped, but then I had been safe in my bed, not
filled with fear or shame or pain as I now was, not traumatized to the verge of catatonia by the
malevolent brutality inflicted upon me.

I felt no pleasure now as his big cock raped me, only a terrible misery as the big man’s 
hands roamed my body, pinching and clawing and squeezing and slapping at my soft flesh as 
he continued to pound his cock up into my belly.

Then he started grunting and gasping in pleasure. His cock pounded ever harder, until he 
let out a choking sound and slowed right down, then finally stopped.

“Ahhh,” he sighed. “What a tight hole. You got a pussy full of sperm now, baby. I musta 
pumped a gallon of white stuff into your slutty snatch.”

He reached above me and untied the ropes, untied them from the bars, that is, not from 
my wrists. I slid down the bars, whimpering and moaning, then fell to the floor, my trembling 
hands sliding down to my aching, raped pussy.

“Now you been fucked good. I hope you’re grateful, slut,” he said.

He went and got his pants as I knelt there shaking and moaning. He pulled them on, 
smirking down at me as I knelt there.

“You’ll remember that beating the next time you think about disobeying me, won’t you 
slut?” he said.

“Ye… yes..sss, siir,” I moaned.

Before I could move he had snatched up the whip, rushed over, gripped my arms and 
jerked me upright, forcing my breasts out as he held the whip menacingly.

“Didn’t I tell you to call me Master?! Didn’t I?”

“Yes! Yes, Master! I’m sorry, Master!” I gasped.

“Next time you forget to call me master, do you know what I’m gonna do? Huh? Do you? 
I’m going to whip your fat tits. You think that little ass whipping you got hurt? Wait until I get 
the whip onto those fat tit bags of yours!”

“I’m sorry, Master!” I cried.

“You will be!”

He stood up and let me go, sniffing derisively.

“Now get dressed and get the fuck out of my home, you cheap piece of cunt.” I crawled 
forward and fond my skirt, slowly pulling it on, then, with Mister Harris following, I climbed the
stairs and found my shoes. My shirt was tom open down the front, but I pulled it on and tried 
to hold the front together.

Mister Harris shoved my hands away and grabbed the front, then pulled the two sides 
together and tied them together under my breasts, making a kind of halter.

“There you are, slut,” he grinned. “Now get your ass home. I’ll call you when I want you 
again, and if you’re a good, obedient little whore, I won’t have to punish you again.”

<<< IMAGE 2 >>>





CHAPTER THREE


I made it home in one piece, then spent the next several hours on my bed, trembling and 
shaking and whimpering. Nobody had ever shown such cruelty to me, not ever, nor had I ever 
imagined anybody could. After all, weren’t people always nice to pretty girls?

When I looked at my aching behind in the mirror, I could hardly believe it wasn’t cut and 
tom. There were angry red welts across it, but no bleeding, and the skin had not been broken. 
It hurt like fire, though, and I could hardly sit down.

For the next several days nothing happened. The pain eased, but the memory remained 
clear and sharp, as did the fear. I had never in my life been so terrified as I had been by Mister 
Harris.

Nor was the nightmare over. He had made it clear that he would see me again, and that he
expected me to obey his every whishes. And how could I not? How could I disobey him when 
he still had that tape? It was humiliating to have him see it, even more so to have him see me 
naked in person. The thought of my parents seeing that tape, though, was more than I could 
bare.

If he called, I would have to go.

That thought preyed on my mind for days. I couldn’t sleep, couldn’t eat. Every time the 
phone rang I jumped, fearing it was him, ordering me back.

When it came, though, it was unexpected, and almost a relief. Instead of him on the phone
my mother casually mentioned that Mister Harris wanted me to babysit for him that night.

The hours seemed to crawl by and my chest was tight and my guts knotted as I waited. 
Then, at six o’clock, I walked quietly out the door and over to Mister Harris’s house. I wore a 
loose blouse under a sweater, and a loose, heavy skirt, with plain cotton underwear beneath.

Mister Harris answered the door.

“Hello, slut,” he smiled.

“He… he… helllo, Master,” I gulped.

“Very good, slut. You’re learning. Get your ass in here.”

I shuffled forward and the door closed behind me.

“Strip,” he ordered.

With a sigh of resignation I slowly pulled off my sweater, then took off my shoes and 
socks, slipped my skirt down, and removed my bra. I felt a wave of embarrassment as I 
removed my bra and panties, then stood before him, looking down at the floor as I covered 
my pussy with one hand and my breasts with my arms.

“Now, now, now. I don’t want you all hunched over, slut. Stand straight and pull your arms 
away. In fact, raise your hands and put them behind your head.

Shamed, face hot with embarrassment, I did as he ordered, exposing my naked flesh to his
leering gaze.

“Push your chest out. Let’s see those fat tit bags,” he snorted.

He stood before me, running his hands up and down my trembling body as I stood there 
with hands behind my head. I tried not to look at him, to look past him, to pretend he wasn’t 
here, but his grasping, stroking, squeezing, kneading hands made that difficult.

“What a tight little body,” he said. “You were built to swallow cock, to gulp it down every 
hole. Know that?”

“Come downstairs, slut.”

He led me down into the basement and into his secret room again. Again he locked it 
behind me, then moved over to a cupboard. I stood there naked, feet cold on the stone floor, 
nipples starting to get hard from the cool air.

I was afraid he was getting a whip, but instead he took out a soft green gown. He brought 
it across to me and had me put it on. I was surprised, but of course, obeyed, glad to put on 
any clothing. It was almost ankle length, kind of heavy. It pulled up tight around my throat, 
and had lacy trim all over it, with a flowing hem.

He gave me a pair of long black gloves to put on. They were silk, and went up my arms 
past my elbows. Then he had me step into a pair of high heeled shoes.

He smiled, then pulled my hands out together in front of me and slipped a pair of 
handcuffs around my wrists. He pulled me gently along to the wall, then pushed me back 
against it, raised my hands high, and slipped the cuffs over a hook set into the wall.

I stood there in the fluffy gown, blinking my eyes at him fearfully as he licked his lips in 
appreciation.

“Now don’t we look pretty,” he smiled. “Pretty enough to fuck.”

He stepped back and went to the cupboard, then took out a camera and began snapping 
pictures of me. The flash went off again and again as he moved from side to side, forward and
back.

“Nice,” he smiled.

He put the camera down and stepped forward. He gripped the dress near my throat and 
pulled. I could see his powerful arm muscles bulge as he ripped the fabric apart, tearing it 
down the middle to just below my breasts. The fabric was kind of elastic, and he pulled it apart
and back around my breasts, letting my fat, jutting boobs hold it open.

He stepped back and took more pictures as I stood there, licking my lips in embarrassment
and worry. He stepped over to a bucket and pulled the lid off, then took out something, what 
turned out to be an ice cube. I was surprised, to say the least.

He walked over to me and pressed the ice cube against my right nipple. I gasped at the 
cold, but didn’t protest, knowing it would be useless. He held it there for a few seconds, then 
shifted it to my other nipple. Again he held it for a few seconds, then put it back on the other 
one.

He alternated between them, not speaking, then stepped back and began taking pictures 
again. I didn’t know why he had used the ice cube at first, but then realized that my nipples 
were now painfully erect, sticking out straight and hard and long.

He snapped more pictures then put down the camera and ripped the fabric all the way to 
the hem. Again he took pictures of me, now naked, the two sides of the dress hanging down 
around me, my breasts and cunt exposed to the camera.

He put down the camera and removed his tank top and pants. Naked, his cock stuck out 
at me hungrily, and he smiled in anticipation. I didn’t fear it, though. As long as he didn’t hurt 
me I figured I was getting off easy.

“You’re a hot little slut, aren’t you, baby?” he breathed.

“Yes, Master,” I said dully.

He pressed his body against me and kissed my cheeks and throat and ear. Then he 
pressed his lips against mine. “Kiss me, slut,” he breathed.

What else could I do but obey him. I kissed him back as his lips slid moistly against mine, 
then moved my tongue up against his as it slid through into my mouth. His hands moved up 
and down my naked body as his lips mashed down on mine with growing passion, and he 
nudged my thighs open with his legs as his hard boner pressed into my soft belly.

Then he slid downwards, lowering to his knees, licking and sucking and biting his way 
down my body, mouthing and suckling at my nipples, chewing on them, grinding his teeth on 
them before trailing his tongue down my chest and over my belly.

His hands squeezed and kneaded my breasts as his tongue probed my belly button and 
made a hot, moist trail around it, then slid lower, down my abdomen and in between my legs. 
His hands slid down me too, and in between my legs, up under them to cup my buttocks as 
his tongue slithered up and down my pussy slit.

His tongue pushed inside as his fingers mashed my round ass flesh. It corkscrewed up into
my tight little round hole, pushing startlingly deep before slithering out and up against my 
clitty.

I stared down at him in confusion and consternation as he tongued and sucked on my soft
pussy meat. I looked away, and my eyes fell on the mirror across from me, reflecting an image 
of raw, carnal sexuality. I saw myself, the dress falling down to either side, hands raised 
helplessly as Mister Harris tongued and sucked on my pussy.

I was gripped again by the memory of how I’d thought being raped, being bound and 
fucked would be so sensual and exciting. The image before my eyes was one I’d dreamed of 
for many years.

And it was happening.

You can only be embarrassed about the same thing for a certain amount of time before 
you get used to it. By now my embarrassment about Mister Harris seeing and touching my 
naked body had mostly faded. The fear and pain that had kept me in tears on my last visit 
were no longer here either. I mean, there was no pain, and as for the fear, well, hadn’t he said 
he wouldn’t punish me if I obeyed him?

Still… still, it was hard to accept… hard to just pretend that Mister Harris was my lover or 
something, hard to pretend I could enjoy something like this.

I looked at the mirror, and almost unconsciously pushed my chest out, then licked my lips 
at the hot, salacious scene in the mirror. I gasped then as Mister Harris gnawed on my pink 
pussy meat, jerking my head down to stare at him.

His hands were stroking the undersides of my buttocks as he licked and sucked on my 
pussy meat, but now he slid them in between my thighs, forcing them further apart, so far that
I could barely stand. His fingers stretched and found my pussy lips, the pried them open in a 
lewd display of glistening pink meat.

He rubbed his face against my pussy flesh, then began sucking and licking up and down 
against the exposed skin. He shoved his tongue into my hole and pushed it deep as his nose 
rubbed from side to side against my clitoris.

I held my breath as I watched him licking on me and felt his tongue slithering around in 
my pussy hole. Then he pulled it free and eased his lips over my clitty. He kissed it, then 
sucked hard. Then he seemed to blow air across it, a sharp, hard little stream of hot air.

His tongue lapped against it repeatedly, then he sucked again.

I tore my eyes away and stared at the mirror across the room, and felt my insides 
beginning to bum with the first shadows of sexual desire. Common sense said that I should 
resist in every way. But as the desire rose, common sense began to flee.

I pulled my head back, refusing to look at the mirror, or downwards. I held my breath, 
telling myself it was wrong to feel any pleasure, that Mister Harris was an awful man, that what
he’d done to me yesterday was unforgivable, even if my own fantasies had involved many of 
the same things.

Then he stood up. I gulped in fear and stared up at him, at his hard, muscular body and 
gleaming teeth. His hands stroked my belly and squeezed my breasts, then he pushed himself 
against me, his cock was still hard, pressing against my belly.

Now he reached down and gripped it in his hand, rubbing the cockhead up and down my 
moist slit. He pressed it more firmly, then forced it slowly inside. I felt my cunt opening, felt 
myself pierced, felt his cock sliding upwards into my pussy tunnel.

I gulped and trembled, then made a soft groan as his lips came down on mine. His hands 
slid around behind me, inside the remnants of the dress, cupping my soft ass cheeks. His big 
hands squeezed them, lifting me off the ground, pulling my legs outwards to either side as he 
thrust his cock up into my belly.

I groaned into his mouth as he buried his steely pole of flesh inside my small pussy hole 
and ground into me. My legs came up and around him as he held my ass easily and began to 
fuck me.

I felt the heat flaring inside me. I was being fucked! This was what I’d dreamed of, 
fantasised about, jerked off to! I was tied to the wall, naked, or pretty near, and a hard 
man-cock was pumping in my pussy hole.

I could feel it moving back and forth in my belly as he jerked me to and fro. I panted and 
groaned, hardly able to think as he swung me against him, then back against the wall. His 
tongue pushed into my mouth and I hardly noticed.

Then I kissed back, tentatively at first, but with growing passion and desire. His cock 
moved faster inside me, and my desire rose within me and took control. Nothing else 
mattered but the sparkling hot sexual electricity that was tearing through my body.

I used my leg muscles to pull myself against him in time to his strokes, then eased off so 
he could shove me back. I was all but swinging on the hook above me as he drove his spiked 
prick deep into my guts. The pain on my wrists burned, but I ignored it, for the burning in my 
loins was too hot for anything else to matter.

He pulled back, gripping my legs and prying them loose from around him, forcing them 
up and back against the wall. I groaned as I was bent in two, my knees jammed against the 
wall on either side of my chest. I looked down and saw how crudely exposed my groin was, 
how my pussy and ass stuck up so openly and invitingly, with his stiff boner protruding from 
my slit.

Then he leaned his weight against my ankles, holding them up and back as he began to 
fuck into me with furious, rutting strokes. His hips pounded against my buttocks, smashing 
them downwards, only to have them spring back up again to meet his next blow.

I grunted with each hard blow, as his powerful body slammed into my ass and sent a 
jarring tremor throughout my body. The feel of his cock thrusting deep, sheathing itself in my 
tight, hot, sucking pussy was like the exclamation point at the end of that, or perhaps, the 
sharp end of the dagger.

My vision spun and I grunted like an animal as I felt my senses burning with sexual desire. I
felt my entire crotch sizzling and crackling with sexual heat. Each new stabbing thrust sent a 
blast of ecstasy through my spinning mind.

Then I came, my guts churning, my mind exploding, my eyes rolling back in my head as 
the pleasure overwhelmed my thinking, sending my mind spinning like a cork in a flood. 
Lights exploded before my eyes and my body jerked and writhed spastically in the midst of an
all encompassing orgasmic explosion.

It went on and on, far longer than any orgasm I’d ever had before, punctuated again and 
again by each new, brutal thrust of his massive cock into my trembling, shaking body.

Then he slowed and halted, panting for breath, chest heaving as he stood still, cock still 
buried inside me. I knew he had sent another flood of sperm into my belly, and took a 
perverse joy at the thought.

“Slut,” he panted, slowly letting up on my ankles. He eased back and let my legs fall. I cried
out as they dropped and all my weight fell on my wrists. My ass and legs slapped back against
the wall painfully, and then I slowly regained my feet, wincing still.

“That’s what you were built for, slut,” he said, smiling lewdly. “That and a lot of things like it
you dirty girl.”

He reached up and lifted the handcuffs off the hook, then pulled me across the room. He 
reached down and pulled a kind of stool out from under a table. It was small and narrow, and 
had a big wooden imitation cock sticking out of the front.

“Sit,” he said, smiling.

I gulped uncertainly, then, knowing without even thinking about it that I had to do as he 
ordered, turned and straddled the stool. I slowly lowered myself until the wooden cock was 
pressed against my pussy entrance. I was glad I was still moist there from his fucking.

I eased myself lower, a little embarrassed now as he looked on in amusement. The wooden
cock was even thicker than his real one, and my pussy strained to accommodate it. I gasped 
and panted weakly as my legs trembled beneath me, but I got it inside my pussy and slowly 
lowered myself on it, taking inch after inch up inside my fuck tunnel.

The wooden cock felt completely round, and had a carved cockhead to it. I slid lower and 
lower, taking the thing deeper and deeper, wondering if I could get it all inside me. Then, 
when I got all the way to the bottom, I discovered that the thing was not quite round, not at 
the base.

At the front of the base was a small pushed out section that had ridges on it. I didn’t pay 
that much attention to it at first, for my concentration was on getting all the thing inside me. 
Finally, I did, though my guts felt hard and cramped with the wooden thing way, way up in my
belly.

My pussy felt strained to the limit as I eased my weight down onto my buttocks and felt 
them flatten beneath me. My legs relaxed and I sighed in relief at being down, though I didn’t 
dare move for fear the thing would tear up my insides.

Mister Harris bent over and took something, a kind of little clamp in the front of the stool 
and locked it around my handcuffs so they were held in place, then stood up. My face was 
exactly level with his cock, and I knew that was no coincidence.

H gripped my hair in one hand and his cock in the other, then rubbed his still moist cock 
all over my face before pressing it against my lips. I opened them resignedly and his cockhead
slid inside.

“You’re gonna learn to suck me like a pro, bitch,” he said in a conversational tone. “I want 
you to suck this good and hard for me.”

Then he proceeded to tell me how, tugging painfully hard on my hair whenever I was too 
slow to obey. I started by licking up and down his cock, then sucking his balls into my mouth 
and massaging them with my tongue and cheeks.

I took his whole cock into my mouth then, sucking and licking and massaging it inside my 
oral cavity, then slowly drawing my head back, letting it pull loose like a giant snake, keeping 
my lips compressed around it until I held just the cockhead, then sucking it all back inside like 
a long strand of spaghetti.

Every now and then Mister Harris would pull it out and rub it over my face.

Slowly, his cock began to pulse with life, began to harden and thicken. Soon I was bobbing
my lips up and down it as he looked down in smug satisfaction. He held my face then and 
began to fuck his cock into me, forcing it deeper and deeper.

“Now you’re gonna learn to deep throat, bitch,” he said.

Instantly my mind went black with fear. I struggled to pull free, even though he cursed me 
and ripped my hair. He pulled back, glaring at me, pulling his cock out of my mouth.

“You filthy little fuck hole,” he said. “You think you can disobey me? I said you’re gonna 
learn to deep throat and you’re gonna.”

“Please, sir! I mean, please, Master! Can’t you just fuck me again!?” I begged.

“I’ll do whatever I want to you, you piece of cunt meat you.”

He went to a cupboard and came back with a big rubber cock. It was long and thick, 
though not as long and thick as the wooden one I was sitting on. Mister Harris gripped my 
hair and jerked it back hard, making me cry out in pain.

As soon as my mouth opened he stabbed the big rubber cock through my gaping lips and
thrust it right down my throat. He forced it in to the plastic balls, then let it go, standing 
before me with his arms folded, smiling as I writhed and shook and wriggled in deportation.

The dildo was way down my throat, and I couldn’t breath or make a sound. I could only 
shake and flop from side to side, my throat bloated out around the thing, aching and burning.
My guts whirled and several times I was sure I was going to threw up… not that I could with 
my throat blocked.

My head pulsed with pressure and my chest burned as the air ran out. I stared up at him 
beseechingly, eyes bulging as he smiled down. My vision began to blur and redden and I 
shook wildly, to no avail.

Then he reached down and gripped the base of the dildo and slowly pulled it up and out 
of my throat and mouth. I coughed violently, choking and hacking and gasping for breath as 
my throat was suddenly freed again.

I coughed, and sucked in great deep breaths of air as he looked on quietly. Then he 
gripped my hair again and jerked my head way back. Again I cried out, instinctively, not 
thinking, and again he forced the dildo into my mouth and down my throat.

“Now, slut girl,” he said. “You are going to learn how to be a good little whore and deep 
throat my cock, or I’m going to let you suffocate. Do you understand, slut? Sit still!”

Desperate to obey him and breath again I held still, though I trembled and shook.

“Good, slut. Now, I’m going to pump this thing in your mouth and you’re going to get 
used to it.”

He pushed the dildo down my throat slowly, then eased it back up again. Again and again 
he slid the dildo up and down my throat, finally pulling it free. Again I panted and choked and
gasped for breath, though I wasn’t as out of breath as I had been the first time.

He let me catch my breath, then once again pushed the thing down my throat. I didn’t 
fight, knowing I couldn’t. As before he slid it deep, then pumped it slowly up and down inside 
my throat.

My throat ached, and felt unbearably stiff and uncomfortable, but there wasn’t any real 
pain. The trick was keeping my stomach from emptying itself, keeping myself from gagging 
when the thing pushed into my throat.

He pulled the dildo out and let me catch my breath again, then held the thing in front of 
my face.

“Deep throat it, whore,” he ordered.

I knew he meant I had to suck it down my throat now instead of just sitting there while he 
forced it down. I took several deep breaths, then slid my lips around it and took it into my 
mouth. I bobbed my lips up and down several times, trying to work up the courage to shove 
my face forward hard.

I looked up and saw him getting impatient, then slid my lips down and gulped the 
cockhead into my throat. I told myself that was what I was doing, just swallowing something. I 
don’t think my body bought the explanation, but I managed to get the thing down my throat 
without too terrible a time.

I slid my lips down to the base, to his fingers, then slid my mouth back up it to the 
cockhead, and off.

“Again, dog,” he snapped.

I slid my lips over the thing and then slid them right down the shaft, gulping down the 
head and sliding my lips to the base. It was much easier this time, perhaps because I knew I 
could, and knew I wouldn’t die or anything.

I slid my lips back up its length and off, then looked up at Mister Harris.

“Good dog,” he smiled.

He tossed the dildo onto a table and stepped directly in front of me, pressing his still erect
cock against my lips. I knew exactly what he wanted now, and slid my lips over his cockhead. I 
licked all over it, drawing as much moisture as I could into my mouth to make it slick.

I bobbed my lips on it a few times, then gulped down the head and slid my lips all the way 
down his cock to the balls. I felt a wave of relief that I’d mastered this, and hadn’t died in 
doing so, and then began to slide my lips back along his cock.

His cock emerged from my mouth inch by inch, and it was an oddly lewd sight, watching 
all that cock sliding sensuously out from between my straining lips. When the cockhead 
popped free I breathed rapidly as he pulled it out of my mouth and rubbed it over my face.

Then he pushed it into my mouth again and I slid my lips down to the balls once more. I 
pulled my head back and forth slowly, sliding my throat and lips along his cockshaft as I 
moved. Soon Mister Harris gripped my head and began to fuck my face and throat on his 
own, and I just sat there, my head still as he fucked his cock into me with long, deep, slow 
strokes.

He fucked faster, and that was more painful, and made my stomach whirl and chum, then 
he pulled out and gripped his dark red cock in one hand, squeezing it hard. White jism spat 
out the tip and shot into my mouth, then onto my cheeks and nose and forehead as he came.

Thick white wads of sperm splattered against my face and hair as he sighed in pleasure. 
Then he rubbed his cockhead all over my face, rubbing the jism in as he chuckled in 
amusement.

“That’s two holes I’ve fucked out, slut,” he said. “Still one more to go.”

I gulped and my eyes went wide as he realized what he meant.

For who, in their right mind, could welcome such an invasion? I was, after all, an ass 
virgin… that was… until now!

<<< IMAGE 3 >>>





CHAPTER FOUR


Mister Harris turned and walked out of the room then, leaving me alone for a while. I sat there
on the stool, still handcuffed, still sitting on the long wooden cock thing. And you know what, 
before long the thought of being fucked up the ass didn’t bother me.

I was almost looking forward to it. It seemed so rawly sexual, so perverse an lewd. I wanted
to be ass fucked… so long as it didn’t hurt too much.

I licked my lips as I remembered the video of Mister Harris fucking that woman in the ass. 
It turned me on to think of him doing that to me.

I shifted a little on the stool, and sighed in pleasure as the ridge at the base of the rubber 
dildo rubbed against my clitty. My pussy was straining around the thick wooden tube, 
stretched wide, the skin taut, so my clitty was really grinding against the ridge.

I eased upwards a little, experimentally, then slid down, groaning in pleasure as my clitty 
rode over the ridges. It felt shockingly good! I spread my legs wider to get better leverage, 
then leaned forward a little to grip the front of the stool, then I began to raise my ass a little 
bit and drop it down, not much, just an inch or two.

But did it ever feel great!

The heat was flaring in my body, my blood racing. I began to saw my pussy up and down 
against the ridged part of the wooden cock with grunts and groans of pleasure. My 
excitement gave me strength and I pushed higher, sliding my pussy way up the long, thick 
wooden cock, then sliding it way down again.

It felt wonderful to slide down the long length of cock, to feel it moving up into me in a 
long, continuous slide. The excitement leant me strength and I fucked higher and faster, 
slapping my ass cheeks down on the wooden stool as I rode the wooden cock. I felt my pussy 
steaming with lust and heat, felt my juices bubbling and boiling as I cried out in pleasure.

Then the door opened and Mister Harris came in. I gasped, and slowed my movements 
like a naughty schoolgirl caught doing something wrong. Still, I continued to kind of rub 
myself up and down as I stared fearfully at him.

He didn’t say a word, but came over and undid the handcuffs, then lifted me off the stool. I
bit my lip in regret, for I had been on the verge of a really good come. Mister Harris pulled me
over to one of the strange devices I’d noted on my exploration of the secret room, the upright
two by four with the wooden penis and the crossbeam.

Mister Harris turned me so my back was to the upright beam, and I felt the wooden cock 
pressing up between my buttocks and along my spine.

“Here’s another cock for you, slut,” he said. “You can ride it all you want. Just reach down 
and put it in.”

Well, I would have liked to, but even on my toes I couldn’t get myself high enough to stick 
that wooden cock inside me. Like I said, it stuck out of the vertical beam, going straight out 
for about three or four inches, then abruptly taking a ninety degree turn and going straight 
up for nine or ten more.

The carved cockhead on the top of it was about level with my belly button, so I could 
hardly get it into my pussy while standing there.

Mister Harris gripped my hips and lifted me off the floor, and I reached down between my 
legs and gripped the wooden cock, cantering it against my pussy opening. Then he lowered 
me, until the nose of the thing pressed against my slit and pushed up inside.

“Oohh! Slowly! Sloow!” I gasped, as the wooden cock pushed up into my drooling pussy 
tunnel.

Since I’d just taken the other long thick wooden cock this one was easier, and it slid into 
me all the way to the hilt. The hilt for this one was, of course, where it took a ninety degree 
turn and ran into the two by four. My weight came down on that now, my pussy meat crushed
into the rounded wooden tube as my feet reached the base of the stand at last.

It was kind of uncomfortable. If it had been a couple of inches lower it would have been 
better, or if I’d been a couple of inches taller, I suppose.

Mister Harris seemed satisfied, though.

He bent down and pulled my ankles together, then wrapped a strap around them to pin 
them to the two by four. He straightened and took my right arm, then draped it along the 
crossbeam, which was just below shoulder height. There was another strap at the end of the 
crossbeam and he wrapped it around my wrist.

Then he pulled my other arm out in the other direction, strapping that down too. It felt 
kind of sexy to be bound like this with the wooden dildo up in my pussy, and I kind of ground 
myself against it as Mister Harris finished strapping my wrist down.

Then he went around behind me. I felt him gripping my hair and playing with it, and I 
wondered what he was doing, hoping he wasn’t going to pull it so it hurt. I felt him winding 
and twisting it around something, perhaps pulling it into a pony tail.

Then he pulled back, not harshly, but slowly. I was forced to eased my head back further 
and further and further, until I was looking up at the ceiling, and still he pulled. I gasped in 
discomfort as he pulled my head backwards even more, so I was looking at the wall behind 
the stand. I saw him reach down below and tie something off, then he let go of my hair.

I couldn’t straighten up, though. He had tied my hair together around some kind of 
wooden thing, and hooked the wooden thing to the back of the beam behind me. I was 
bound in a very uncomfortable position, my back arched painfully across the crossbeam. I 
couldn’t do anything to shift my balance to ease the pain either since my legs were pinned 
tightly together to the beam.

What I should have been thinking of was how my breasts stuck up so round and full and 
vulnerable. What I should have been remembering is Mister Harris’ saying that if I disobeyed 
him in anything I would be punished. I had thought him stuffing the dildo down my throat 
was punishment, but no, that was just training.

“Slut,” he said.

“Ye… yess, Master?” I gasped.

“You were a bad girl to disobey me, weren’t you?”

I felt the first flickerings of fear.

“I’m sorry, Master,” I moaned.

“I ordered you to deep throat my cock and you resisted.”

“I’m sorry, Master,” I repeated.

“You realize you must be punished for disobedience.”

“I… I… please, Master! Please don’t hurt me!” I gasped.

“Does that dildo feel good in your pussy, slut?”

“Yes, Master,” I whimpered.

“Fuck it then, grind your little pussy around it.” I did the best I could, but it was very hard 
to do anything with my wrists and head and ankles bound so tightly. Still, I kind of threw my 
weight around and ground my pussy down onto the thing as best I could.

I felt something against my right breast, a violent slap that made it jiggle and boil in pain. 
There was a crack of noise simultaneous to the blow, and then a scream of horrified pain that I
at first didn’t even recognize as my own.

Again there was a crack of noise, a blow against my right breast, again there was a flood of
horrible, burning agony as my breast bounced, the soft meat thrown about. Again a blow, this
time on my other breast, and again, and again, faster and faster.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK!

My breasts shook and jerked under the nearly continuous slapping blows as I screamed 
and sobbed and begged for mercy.

Then the blows stopped and I saw him come around the side of the stand. I saw in his 
hand then a ping pong paddle, and whimpered as he turned it around and pushed the handle
into my mouth.

“Suck that, whore,” he ordered, and I did, fearfully, grateful to have it in my mouth rather 
than have it smacking my breasts.

He went back out of my sight as I held the wooden handle in my mouth. I felt his hands at 
the buckle of the strap binding my ankles closed, then felt the strap loosening and falling 
away. I felt a tremendous wave of relief at the belief that the beating was over.

Then I heard that hissing sound, the sound I’d heard when he’d used the leather whip on 
my buttocks before. I heard the sound it made as it cut through the air, then felt he impact 
directly on my right breast.

With my back arched so violently, my breasts were pushed up and out hard, the skin taut 
across the surface of my thick, full meaty melons. They were perfect targets for the cruel whip 
as it slashed downwards. It cut right into my right breast, thumping against the ribs beneath 
before springing back.

Then came the pain… agony, blazing, searing madness. I howled at the top of my lungs, a 
shriek of denial and pain that echoed off the walls. My tender titty was a boiling inferno of 
outraged nerve endings.

Again the hissing sound, and again the whip slashed into my flesh, this time striking my 
left breast, cutting directly down across my nipple. I screamed in agony shaking and thrashing 
and sobbing in despair as my titty burned and bounced.

My feet kicked out as I howled and shook and writhed in pain. My weight came down on 
the wooden cock but I didn’t care, hardly noticed as my body strained and bounced and 
shook convulsively.

Again the whip slashed down, and again, and again, and again, cracking across one breast 
then the other, then both together. Again and again I howled and screamed, shrieking and 
begging until my voice went hoarse, the tears pouring down as the pain tore through my 
body and mind and soul.

My entire body shook and jerked and writhed in maddened pain, my legs kicking out in all
directions as I tried somehow to fend him off. The pain in my pussy was now harsh and hot, 
though no match for my burning titties, for much of my weight was on the wooden cock, the 
horizontal part, as I jerked and thrashed around it.

It was tearing at my pussy as my body strained and jerked and humped and bounced in a 
writhing, wriggling, thrashing series of convulsions.

Still, I didn’t care.

I gnawed on the wooden handle, sobbing and moaning as the blows rained down on my 
upthrust breasts, the burning heat now a deep, all encompassing throbbing that seemed to 
numb my senses. The heat radiated off of my sweating, straining breasts, dulling the 
sharpness of each new blow.

Still, I jerked under the impact, my heels drumming on the base of the stand, my ass 
grinding against the two by four, my pussy mashing down on the wooden dildo. My eyes were
slits, almost unseeing, as the whip continued to crack down on my breasts.

Then they stopped. I hardly noticed at first, staring at the wall behind me. I felt his hands 
on my breasts then, and bit down on the wooden handle again as pain rippled along my 
nervous system. He stroked his hands slowly, lightly along the burning round orbs, then slid 
his tongue onto my right nipple, lapping gently against the outraged, pain-filled little bud.

He spent long minutes licking all over my breasts, his tongue light and moist.

“Are you going to disobey me again, slut?” he asked.

“Nooooooo,” I whimpered around the wooden handle.

“Good girl,” he said.

His hand trailed down my sweating body and in between my bound legs, and he fingered 
my pussy, grinding my clitty against the wooden cock. I didn’t care. I was just glad that the 
beating had ended.

Anything else was better, anything else.

He continued to finger my clitty, stroking it and caressing it, pressing it against the 
wooden cock inside me as he licked at my breasts. I felt a new sensation, a new heat in my 
body, but barely acknowledged it. I was only partly conscious, unthinking, the heat in my 
chest having sapped my strength to the limit of endurance.

I felt a flickering itch between my legs and my hips jerked in response. The itch continued, 
getting worse. I felt Mister Harris’ tongue on my belly button, then down between my legs, 
slithering against my clitty.

His hands slid up my legs and gripped them behind the knees, then lifted them upwards, 
shoving them back. I groaned as much of my weight came down on the dildo. His hands 
forced my legs back, then slid along them to my thighs. He gripped my buttocks then and 
lifted me upwards.

I felt my pussy sliding up the dildo, then falling back to crush up against the horizontal 
part. Again he lifted me, then again let me slide back. His tongue rasped against my clit as he 
lifted me upwards, pushing me way up along the dildo, then let me slide all the way down 
again.

My body quivered in confusion, caught between the heat of pain and the heat of pleasure.
It balled up inside me and glowed like a newborn sun, making me sweat copiously. Sweat 
trickled down my face and breasts and belly. My entire body was slick with it as he continued 
to saw my pussy up and down on the wooden cock.

His tongue slurped and slithered against my clitty as he pumped me. I felt my groin 
burning with a fire that burned almost as hot as the fire in my breasts.

He let me down and dropped my feet to the base again, then stood up and leaned over 
me, his face leering above me as his hand rubbed furiously against my pussy meat.

“Come, bitch,” he hissed. “Let’s see you come. Let’s see you come, bitch! Dirty slut! Cheap 
whore!”

His hand crushed my pussy pad mashing it down against the hard, unyielding surface of 
the wooden cock inside me. He ground his hand against my pussy with furious rubbing 
motions as I whimpered and moaned and jerked spastically.

I felt my insides twisting and heaved my body against the bonds. My groin was jerking, 
instinctively humping forward, jerking against the wooden dildo. The thing was mashing up 
into my soft flesh even as his hand ground my sensitive meat down from above.

I felt the sexual electricity rising higher and higher above me, hanging over me like a 
building tidal wave, blotting out the light and sky.

His hand slapped at my pussy, slapping down hard, and the wave fell, swamping my 
senses. I gurgled in mindless ecstasy as my body shuddered and jerked. His hand continued to
slap against my pussy pad as he snickered and slapped at my breasts too.

Heat flared inside me and I screamed in pain and pleasure, screamed in ecstasy, screamed 
in a long, quavering, mindless, animalistic howl of release.

The pressure blasted my mind and my body shook and rattled the stand as it twisted and 
writhed. I couldn’t breath, couldn’t think, as the orgasm roared through my skull, building up 
pressure until there was no more room for anything else, and then there was only blackness.

*

I woke slowly, my body twitching slightly, my mind fuzzy. I felt the throbbing heat of my 
breasts, and groaned as I opened my eyes. I was laying on something hard, but didn’t know 
what at first. I tried to move, but couldn’t.

My legs were free, and they shifted weakly, but my arms seemed… hindered somehow. I 
rolled my head and looked up towards my left wrist, and saw there a kind of leather restraint 
wrapped and buckled around it. The leather thing had rings sewn into it, and one was linked 
by a chain to the top corner of the table. My other wrist was similarly bound, I raised my head 
and gazed down at my body… at my breasts especially. They were red and sore looking, with 
welts across them, dozens of crisscrossing red lines. There were no cuts, though, at least none 
I could see.

I could hardy believe that, since it had seemed at some times that the flesh must have 
been flayed and tom by his cruel beating.

I lay there wondering what was going on, why I was here, what was happening. What time 
was it anyway? Shouldn’t I be heading home now?”

I recovered my senses as time passed. I looked down at my breasts again, and saw that 
they were almost glistening, obviously moist. Something was on them, I saw, some kind of 
liquid had been rubbed into the sore flesh. Perhaps that explained why, though they hurt, the 
pain was only a dull throbbing, not the terrible ache I would have imagined.

I laid my head back, then heard a sound. The door opened and I looked up, my heart 
beating faster. Then my eyes widened as I saw, not Mister Harris, but Mrs. Harris. I stared, 
open-mouthed, as she closed the door behind her and walked up beside the table where I lay.

I was intensely embarrassed by my nudity, and squirmed, both inside and outside as she 
approached the table. I held my breath as I realized that Mrs. Harris, though not nude as I was,
was hardly dressed like the conservative businesswoman she was supposed to be.

She wore skintight black leather pants, high, stiletto heeled shoes, and a leather top that 
only barely contained her large breasts. It was so low cut that I could see almost all her 
breasts, even part of her nipples.

Her hair, normally tightly bound, flared loose around her face. Her lips were a deep, ruby 
red, her eyebrows drawn upwards almost menacingly.

“Hello, my dear,” she said in a husky growl.

What could I say? I said nothing.

She slid her eyes over me, and I flushed in embarrassment once again.

“So you have discovered our little play area, hmm? Discovered and enjoyed it. Not many 
girls do.”

She eased her hand onto my belly, then stroked it idly.

“You have a lovely body, Sandra,” she smiled. “A body made for pleasure… and pain.”

“Le-.let me go please,” I gulped.

“Of course… later.”

“I… I should be getting home.”

“I called your parents dear and told them I and my husband would be detained over night.
I asked if it were all right for you to stay here the night to mind the baby.”

“Wha… what?”

“She said it was fine,” she smiled reassuringly, sliding her hand across my cheek.

“Bu… but I…”

“Oh you must stay, darling,” she smiled, stroking my cheek.

She slid her hand down between my breasts, down my belly, fingers sliding from side to 
side, then down between my legs. I gasped as she cupped my pussy and squeezed gently, my 
face turning bright red as she smiled at me.

“You and I can have so much fun, darling,” she smiled.

She moved away and went to the TV set, then turned it to face me. She turned on the VCR 
and I watched as my image came on the screen. It wasn’t from the first night, but from this 
evening, and showed me riding up and down on the stool, my pussy sliding along the 
wooden cock, my face drawn back in a grimace of pleasure as I moaned in delight.

“Such a sweet little girl,” she smiled.

She turned off the TV and walked back to the table, holding something in her hand. She 
raised her hand and I saw a cellular phone in it. “Call your mother, dear,” she smiled. “And tell 
her you’re going to stay here the night. Be cheerful, be happy.”

I swallowed nervously as she dialed the number, then held it to my face. What could I do? 
What did I dare do?” I talked to my mother, and told her Mrs. Harris had phoned me, she said 
she knew.

Mrs. Harris stroked my pussy as I talked, and I had a hard time keeping my voice steady, 
especially when she forced a finger inside me and drove it up my pussy to the knuckle.

Then I said goodbye and she took the phone away from me.

“Such a sweet girl,” she purred. “So soft and warm.”

She turned away, moving behind me, then returned. She had something in her hand, a 
small round metal thing, kind of like a ring. But it wasn’t. As I blinked my eyes and looked 
closer I saw that it was a sort of vice, or clamp, with a U shaped piece of metal, and a kind of 
screw between the ends.

I watched as Mrs. Harris unscrewed it, then pressed it against my right nipple. She smiled, 
then leaned over and licked the nipple. She sucked it into her mouth and worked her tongue 
over it as I swallowed in surprise and fear and worry.

I mean, she was a woman! I’d never imagined having sex with a woman before. The very 
thought was astonishing. Here I was, though, laying out naked while she sucked on my 
nipples. I didn’t know how to respond, or what say.

Then she straightened up and I saw her place the little metal clamp against the nipple 
again. I wasn’t sure what it was she was doing, as she turned the screw over and over. Then I 
felt a pinching at my nipple. I gasped as the pinching became a bite, then a stabbing pain.

“Stop!” I gasped. “Oh stop!”

She smiled at me and kissed my lips. “Darling girl,” she smiled.

She turned the screw tighter and I cried out in pain as it crushed my nipple.

“Ahhhhh! Dooon’t!”

“Doesn’t it feel wonderful?”

“No! NO! It hurts! It hurts!”

“Life is pain,” she smiled.

She turned the screw again and I screamed and shook in helpless pain.

“How dear,” she laughed, as I writhed in agony.

“Take it off! Take it off!” I screamed.

She gripped my jaw and twisted my head to one side, then mashed her lips down hard 
against mine. Her tongue shot into my mouth and wriggled around like an eel, then drew 
back. I felt her teeth at my lips, nipping, biting. I tasted blood and moaned and whimpered as 
she seemed to suck the air right out of my lungs.

Then she drew back, still smiling. She jerked the leather top down, baring her breasts 
entirely, then leaned over and pressed one against my mouth.

“Suck my nipple, darling,” she cooed.

She rubbed it against my face, and in a desperate effort to stop her from hurting me I 
opened my lips and sucked on her nipple. I sucked urgently, drawing the nipple and 
surrounding flesh into my mouth. She stroked my face as I sucked, cooing and purring as she 
smiled.

I felt her hands at the clamp, then sobbed in pain as she tightened the screw. I sucked 
harder, and she tightened the screw again. I screamed into her breast, sobbing and moaning 
as the pain stabbed into me. She continued to coo and stroke my face, like she wasn’t doing 
anything, like the pain didn’t exist.

She squeezed her breast, pressing it down into my mouth as I sucked, then slid her hand 
off the clamp and stroked my breast. She pulled back upright, smiling down at me, stroking 
her own breasts now, pinching on the nipples.

“Such a dear little creature,” she said. “I’m sure you’ll be a very good pupil.”

<<< IMAGE 4 >>>





CHAPTER FIVE


She stripped slowly, and I saw that she had no pussy hair, that she had shaved her snatch 
completely bare. She smiled down at me, sliding her hands up and down her own body as she
stared at me. She eased a hand down between her legs and sawed her fingers back and forth 
across her shaved snatch, then put her other hand between my legs and rubbed my pussy.

She walked around behind me and disappeared, then returned with a cup, and a can of 
some sort.

“Spread your legs, dear,” she ordered.

Helplessly, I did as she ordered.

“Wider. All the way, sweety.”

Embarrassed anew, I spread my legs wide, until my feet were actually off the sides of the 
table. She set the stuff down and leaned over. She poured warm water over my pussy then, 
and then, to my surprise, popped the top of the can and sprayed what I quickly recognized as 
shaving cream over my pussy.

“Wait,” I gasped. “Don’t!”

“Now, now. Don’t be a bad girl,” she chided.

I shut up, not sure if she would beat me like her husband did when he thought I was being
a bad girl, but not willing to find out.

She produced a shaver and started carefully shaving away at my pussy hair, humming 
softly and happily to herself as she did. I hoped she would leave some hair, was just trimming 
my small, neat bush, but it soon became obvious she was not intending to leave a single hair 
behind.

She made me raise my legs and pull them back, spread them, turn, and all the while I felt 
the scratch, scratch, scratch, of the shaver over my pussy mound and thighs and lower 
abdomen.

She got a towel and wiped me off there, and then inspected me with her eyes and fingers, 
scratching away at any small, isolated hairs she spotted until my pussy was as bare and 
smooth as a baby’s behind.

“There you are,” she said happily. “You’re little pussy crack is right out in the open where 
everyone can see it.”

She put the can and cup away, while I strained to see between my legs. My pussy did seem
terribly bare, though I couldn’t see it very well from my laying down position.

Then she returned. She climbed onto the table between my legs, and slid forward over my 
body. I stared in surprise and anxiety as she slid her body onto mine, and I felt her soft, 
woman’s flesh moving against my own.

Then her breasts were crushing down against mine, and for the first time I felt another 
woman’s breasts on my own. Her nipples were hard little pebbles as they stroked across my 
sensitive flesh, and I winced with the pain in my recently beaten tit mounds.

“Such a sweet little thing,” she cooed, licking at my face and throat. “So tasty and sweet.”

Her tongue slid into my mouth as she rubbed her breasts against my own, and I moaned 
in pain, especially as she jerked and pulled on the clamp over my nipple. She slid her tongue 
downwards then, over my throat, then down onto my breasts.

She knelt over me, tonguing each nipple, circling my breasts repeatedly, stroking and 
massaging the tender skin as she slowly worked her way downwards. I was so glad when she 
finished with my breasts I moaned in relief.

Her tongue slithered over my belly, then down between my legs, where she began to lick 
alongside the bare slit, up and down, and all around it. Then she slid her tongue onto the 
crack itself, going up and down, up and down, using more and more pressure until her tongue
sank between the tight pussy lips.

She slithered it along the little cleft, then used her fingers to gently pry my pussy open. 
She licked and licked, up and down the pink pussy opening. Her fingers pulled harder at my 
pussy flesh, tearing them wider and wider apart until I gasped and moaned in pain.

Still she pulled, and I gasped and whimpered. “Please,” I begged. “Don’t! Oohh! Don’t pull 
so haaard!”

She ignored my request, shoving her tongue deep into my pussy tunnel now, surprising 
me with the depths she reached. She slithered it back and forth, then pulled out and let my 
pussy lips close. I sighed in relief, but it was premature.

She reached to the side of the table and pulled out a small drawer, taking something from 
it. I didn’t see what it was at first, but, worried, raised my head and peered down at her. She 
had a small, V shaped object of some sort, partly metallic. No, she had two. What was she…

“Oh don’t!” I cried, as I saw her pinch one end of the thing and saw the other end open. 
They were alligator clips. I had used them in a class on electricity at school, and knew how 
tight they pinched when closed.

Mrs. Harris smiled fondly up at me, then pressed the clip in against my pussy. I felt the 
jaws sliding onto my pussy lips, no, onto the one on the left, getting a good grip, then…

“AHHHhhhhhhhhgggghhh!” I screamed, jerking and bouncing wildly as the thing bit down
hard on my soft flesh.

My legs bounced and jerked and flailed wildly, my ass bouncing on the table as I tried to 
dislodge the terrible, biting piece of metal. Mrs. Harris gripped my thighs and held them down
with a firm grip as I cried out and sobbed in pain.

“Now, now, now,” she chided. “Be a good girl.”

The initial pain slowly faded to a barely tolerable level, though it still hurt terribly, but then 
I felt another clip sliding against my pussy. I gasped and bucked desperately, but it was too 
late. I felt the sharp toothed alligator clip snap closed on my other pussy lip, and howled in 
pain again, screaming as I bucked and bounced and jerked on the table.

Mrs. Harris sniffed impatiently, and turned around there between my legs. She gripped my
left ankle and shoved it open, then reached to the side of the table and pulled a strap up from
it, wrapping it around my ankle and buckling it tight. She shifted to the other side of the table,
shoving my other ankle wide and strapping that down too.

“There now,” she said. “That will be much better.”

She turned around again and smiled down at me, then she crawled forward over my body 
and licked at the tears around my eyes and cheeks before tonguing her way back between my
legs.

She sat up again, and I saw she had something in her hand, thread, or string, or 
something. I saw her tying a small line to each of the alligator clips, then, humming to herself, 
she gripped my left pussy lip and pulled it wide, wide, wide open.

Again I cried out in pain, begging her to stop, but she ignored me, suing her fingers and 
thumb to tear it wide, then tying the line to a small ring set into the table. When her fingers let
go of the pussy lip the alligator teeth bit into the soft flesh and held it open.

Again I screamed, for the pain was immense as my straining, elastic pussy tried to tear free
and close, but was caught in the remorseless grip of the iron toothed clip.

Mrs. Harris then pulled my other pussy lip apart,, straining my cunt opening worse than it 
had ever been before, far worse, making my pussy gape hugely as she tied off the other clip.

Then she let it go and sat back, smiling as I sobbed and screamed in pain, my pussy 
gaping open as the two clips held my pussy lips in their tight, metal teeth.

“So pretty,” she smiled.

She leaned in and I felt her tongue lapping against my cunt maw, licking and slurping and 
lapping all over the straining pink flesh, then slithering down into the round fuck hole at the 
bottom. She licked over the clitty and caught it in her lips, sucking then, kissing and sucking 
and nibbling with her teeth.

My pussy still felt incredibly strained and gaping, but the sharp, biting pain of the metal 
clips slowly faded as the senses there were numbed. As long as I stayed absolutely still the 
pain was little more than a dull ache, like the pain in my nipple had become.

She mashed her face into my snatch, though, pulling on the pussy lips, pulling against the 
clips. I yelped, gasped, and moaned repeatedly as she pulled and jerked on my gaping cunt 
lips.

She reached down to the drawer set in the table and pulled up a long, thick dildo, then 
pushed it against my pussy hole. She slowly screwed it down inside me until my guts clamped 
down on it deep in my belly. She left it there, buried in my pussy, while she continued to lick 
and suck at the pink flesh around it.

Then, after a couple more minutes, she reached again for the drawer. She came out with a 
thin plastic bottle and a long metallic tube, no, two long metallic tubes. She pulled her face 
out of my snatch briefly, then sprayed a narrow liquid over my pussy, and over her hand.

She gripped one of the metal tubes and I heard a click, then a buzzing sound. That scared 
me at first, but then when I felt it rubbing over my pussy meat, and it didn’t hurt, I realized it 
was just a vibrator. I’d never seen one before, you see.

She rubbed the now, oil-soaked device all around my cunny, then over my buttocks before
placing it against my small round anal opening. I gasped as I felt it pressing there harder and 
harder, but knew there would be no point in protesting.

She dipped it in and out, then in again, then out, then in, slowly working it deeper and 
deeper into my asshole. My ass felt odd with the thick, hard object inside it. I’d never had 
anything there before, let alone something that buzzed and vibrated.

Mrs. Harris pushed it deeper and deeper inside me, until I felt cramps in my belly as she 
jammed it against my very bowels. She pressed forward, shoving her hand against the base of 
the thing until it was all inside me but an inch or so.

Then she rubbed her greasy hands over my pussy and picked up the other vibrator. She 
turned it on and it clicked and buzzed, and I felt the vibrations against my pussy meat as she 
rolled it through the glistening pink flesh.

Once more she pressed her face into my pink opening, sliding the vibrator around in slow 
circles as her tongue lapped and licked at my snatch. She gripped the base of the dildo 
protruding from my fuck opening and began to pump it in and out as well.

My crotch was so filled with sensations I could hardly tell what I felt any more. My lips still 
strained wide and ached at every jostle and jerk. My asshole felt bloated and my belly hard 
from the big vibrator up inside, and what was more it felt like the nose of the thing was 
resting against my spine, sending buzzing vibrations all the way up into my skull.

The other vibrator was rolling and buzzing against my pussy meat, while her tongue 
lapped and her lips sucked and kissed and her teeth nibbled. And, of course, the dildo was 
pumping slowly but steadily inside my fuck tube, rasping across my clitty from one side as the 
vibrator and her tongue worked it over from the other.

By this time my embarrassment at being seen like this, at being pawed and handled like 
this, by a woman, and mostly evaporated, and all I felt was a sense of anxiety and worry, as the
sensations multiplied down at my loins.

I felt the heat of sexual pleasure seeping into my guts, felt my hips jerking and twitching as
the buzzing, purring vibrators churned up my belly, felt my clitty glow with strength and 
power as her tongue, vibrator, and dildo sawed and rubbed against them.

I let the anxiety go and laid my head back to relax and enjoy the sensations. This was so 
bizarre! It was far more bizarre than anything I had ever fantasised about, and it felt soooo 
good.

She continued working over my pussy as the heat built up inside me, and I groaned and 
sighed in pleasure as I humped up lightly, hardly able to move because of my bound position.

I felt the dildo pumping faster, felt her sliding it in from different angles and directions, to 
the right, then the left, then up, then down, twisting and churning it around inside my belly as 
the vibrators purred and her tongue flickered and lapped.

Then the dildo pulled all the way out. I felt her fingers, two or three, thrusting into my 
soaking fuck pit, pumping back and forth inside me. I groaned and humped up against them, 
felt them thicken, felt my pussy hole expanding, straining as she pushed them forward. I felt 
the strain grow into a sharp aching sensation, and raised my weary head to stare down at her.

I saw that she had not two or three, but all four fingers and her thumb formed into a tight 
wedge, and was slowly twisting it from side to side as she forced it deeper into my little fuck 
opening. I stared in shock, watching as I felt her knuckles scrape through the straining 
opening and pass inside me.

I shuddered and lay back on the table as her hand pressed deeper and deeper, feeling the 
heel of her hand pass through and then feeling my fuck opening close around her narrow 
wrist. She had her whole hand inside my pussy hole, and all I could do was lay there and moan
and stare at the ceiling in anxious shock.

I felt her fingers opening and closing inside me, pressing out in all directions against the 
tight, elastic pussy walls, twisting and stroking. Then her hand pushed forward, her wrist 
sliding through my pussy opening as she pressed her face closer and licked at my exposed 
clitty.

I felt her hand slowly pushing deeper inside me, felt her fingertips sliding and slithering, 
prodding and pressing and dipping and turning around inside my belly. I groaned as my 
pussy opening burned with pain, raising my head to see her wrist gone and her forearm 
pressing into me.

I whimpered, wondering if I was going to die, if she was somehow going to force her 
entire arm up my pussy hole and claw at my heart. I felt her fingers touching something deep 
inside me, perhaps the end of my pussy tunnel, my cervix.

Her hand twisted slowly inside me, pressing upwards against my belly. She stroked my 
stomach with her other hand, as if trying to feel her hand inside, and laughed in delight when 
she did.

I groaned as her hand pressed against the wall of my pussy, mashing it upwards against 
my internal organs. Then she eased it back. I felt her fingers slowly, one by one, drawing in, 
forming a big, solid fist inside me. Then, with the extra few inches of depth, her fist moved 
forward again, driving deeper into my cunt.

My cunt maw gaped hugely, squeezing and clutching at her arm as she forced her fist 
deeper into my belly.

I was dazed by the enormity of it all, by the thought and feel of a hand inside my belly.

Then she was licking and sucking at my clitty again, slurping at my fuck meat as her fist 
drove into the deepest depths of my pussy tunnel. I felt her knuckles grinding against my 
cervix and stared at the ceiling in disbelief.

“So sweet,” he purred from between my legs.

She had forced my pussy opening so wide, and the flesh was so taut around her arm that 
every lick on my clitty made it shiver and quake responsively. My clitty was as exposed as a 
tree in the desert, sticking out at her tongue and lips and teeth, and the rolling, stroking 
vibrator which continued to hum against my pussy opening.

Her arm began to shift inside me, pulling slowly back, then easing forward. She was trying 
to pump her arm inside my pussy, but my cunt was so tight around it she could hardly move. 
She sat back and pressed the rounded nose of the vibrator down on my clitty, grinding it back
and forth over the exposed fuck button as she worked her fist inside me.

I gasped and groaned, twitching and shaking as the heat blasted through me in greater 
and greater waves. My ass jerked and bounced weakly on the table, sending tremors up my 
spine as my body began to slide into a massive, dark abyss of sensory overload.

I felt the first explosion down deep inside me, and arched my back as the pleasure roared 
through me. I caught my breath, straining against the bonds holding me, straining again and 
again as my head thrashed from side to side.

Then the next blast hit me, larger, hotter, more powerful, it ripped through my body, the 
blastwave blasting the breath out of my lungs in a long, quavering groan.

I felt her hand moving harder and faster inside me, felt the vibrator twisting inside my 
asshole as I jerked and slapped my ass up and down, felt the other vibrator grinding over my 
clitty as I came again, and again, and again, a series of gut wrenching explosions rippling 
along my nervous system as my insides heaved and rolled and twisted in the grip of the 
multiple orgasms.

I screamed in pleasure, screamed insanely, my head bouncing against the wood below me 
as I thrashed and shook like a maniac, puling and straining in maddened bliss as the 
shockwaves of pleasure rolled over me again and again.

Again I couldn’t breath, and again I didn’t care, revelling in the searing heat of orgasmic 
ecstasy as I sought to impale myself on Mrs. Harris’ arm, as I threw myself upwards, jamming 
my cervix against her grinding knuckles.

The pleasure slowly faded, along with my vision, my hearing, and everything else, as a final
towering wave of scalding pleasure tumbled over my mind and drowned it in ecstasy.

*

Again I woke slowly, confused and uncertain, feeling strange and weak. I was… no longer 
on the table, I realized. I was standing… was… no… I was hanging from my wrists. I looked 
slowly up at the leather restraints binding them there, at the chain they clung to, then looked 
down at my toes swinging freely inches above the cold stone floor.

My wrists hurt a little, but mostly my arms ached, and my shoulders, and, for some reason, 
the muscles or cartilage, or something just under my arms.

I didn’t know how long I had been hanging like this, and didn’t really care. I hung there 
and kind of enjoyed it. Everything was peaceful and quiet, and I hung almost motionless… 
alone.

After a short time, though, the ache in my shoulders became more than just a background
throbbing, and my entire body felt cramped and strained. I pulled my legs up just to bend my 
knees, luxuriating in the temporary rush of relief, then groaning as I had to let them dangle 
straight again.

Then the door opened. Mrs. Harris came back, but with her was Mr. Harris, and I 
swallowed fearfully as they approached me.

Mr. Harris wore what I could best describe as a leather G-string, while Mrs. Harris had a 
leather skirt. Neither was wearing anything else as they stood before me.

“Well, little slut, are you having a good time?” Mr. Harris asked.

“Yes, Master,” I gulped.

“Ooohhh, that’s so sweet,” Mrs. Harris gushed. “Call me mistress.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I sighed.

“My wife tells me you’ve been a bad, bad girl,” Mister Harris said.

“No!” I gasped. “I haven’t! I’ve been a good girl. I have!”

“Are you calling me a liar, you little whore?” Mrs. Harris glared.

“I… no, Mistress,” I gulped.

“Didn’t you try to push me away, to KICK me away when I was attaching the alligator clips 
to your pussy lips?”

“I… I… I couldn’t help it,” I moaned. “It hurt!”

“No disobedience is allowed,” Mister Harris said, going over to the wall and selecting a 
whip.

“Please!” I sobbed. “I didn’t mean to! I’ll be good!”

“I should get to whip her,” Mrs. Harris pouted.

“After me,” he replied.

“You’re a bad, bad girl,” she said, “Saying I’m a liar. That’s very naughty.”

She had something in her hand, a kind of metal device like the tongs we use at home to 
pick up ice cubes with. It was smaller, but she clicked it at me, making the jaws snap closed 
again and again as she smiled.

I stared at it as she moved it onto my left nipple, the one she’d used the clamp on earlier. 
It was swollen and sore still, and as soon as she touched it it burned. Then she snapped the 
thing down, squeezing it closed.

I screamed in pain, shaking and sobbing and begging her to stop as she twisted it from 
side to side.

She laughed and pulled it free, then snapped it on my other nipple, clamping it tight, 
grinding my soft pink bud between the hard metal tongs as she twisted and pulled. She pulled
her hand outwards, stretching my nipple out, pulling my round tit into a narrow cone of taut 
flesh.

Then she opened the thing and let it snap back, bouncing against me as I sobbed and 
begged and moaned and cried out.

I saw Mr. Harris return from the wall, bearing a short handled thing. It had a lot of long 
leather strips attached to the handle, each knotted at the end. He smiled and moved behind 
me as Mrs. Harris slid the tongs down between my legs.

She bent over, using her fingers to ease my pussy lips open, pressing the metal thing in 
around my clitty. I sobbed in misery as I felt them closing on my soft little clitty. Then she 
squeezed hard and my eyes bugged out as I howled in agony.

I hardly felt the first blow of the whip as it struck my shoulders, so great was the dizzying, 
sickening, horrible pain coming from between my legs. I screamed and screamed and 
screamed as Mrs. Harris laughed softly and twisted the tongs around, pulling and ripping and 
twisting my super sensitive little cunt button.

Another blow lashed my back, sending sharp, biting pain into my already overloaded 
system. Still, it was as nothing compared to what Mrs. Harris was doing, and when she 
released my clitty and stepped back, smiling, I almost fainted in relief.

Would that I could.

For now as Mr. Harris lashed the Cat O’ nine tails, for that was what it was, across my back, 
the pain became more and more oppressive and discernable. Still, the first few blows were 
nothing, for I was basking in the relief of my freed clitty.

More blows lashed across my back, though, across my shoulders, and lower back, then 
across my buttocks. The tails snapped and bit and stung and cut my flesh as I moaned in pain 
and clenched my teeth tightly.

Mrs. Harris licked at my sore, swollen nipples as her husband whipped my back, then slid 
down between my legs, her tongue lapping and licking at my slit and clitty as she gripped my 
thighs.

The sensation against my still throbbing pussy was indescribable. First there was the 
stabbing pain, but over that was the immense, massive pleasure, which almost served to block
the pain coming from everywhere else.

I groaned as she flicked her tongue against my clitty, sighed and groaned as her finger 
thrust up into my pussy, and cried out in orgasmic release as her lips sucked an orgasm from 
my wriggling, shaking body.

The whipping halted and I felt something hard, yet soft, press against my asshole. Mr. 
Harris’ gripped my thighs, spreading them as his cock nosed against my round hole. Then he 
pushed his cock into me.

I was still a little oily inside, I guess, because his cock slid right up to the balls with little 
difficulty. Mrs. Harris continued to tongue my pussy hole, her hands lifting my thighs apart as 
she mashed her face into my creamy pussy opening.

Mr. Harris slid his hands around me and cupped my sore breasts, pressing his hard, naked 
body against my own tortured flesh. I groaned as the pain flickered into being again, but then 
his cock jerked and thrust up again inside me and I gasped in shocked response.

It felt so good in there! I remembered him saying he would fuck my ass, and now he was 
doing it. Mrs. Harris was sucking hard on my trembling, spasming clitty too, and the 
sensations of pleasure were overwhelming the pain as the two of them mauled and abused 
my slender body.

Mr. Harris’ cock began to slide up and down in my asshole as his hands slid down my 
belly, gripped my thighs, and ripped them open and back. I groaned as my ass cheeks were 
mashed back against his thighs. They stung and ached, yet the pain was little more than a 
throbbing heat compared to his big cock stuffed into my belly.

Mrs. Harris tongued my pussy as her hands slid up under my breasts and began to knead 
and squeeze them. I felt my juices flooding down over her tongue as the pleasure roared in 
my dazed skull and blasted apart what little reasoning was left there.

I shook and writhed and moaned as pleasure mounted on pleasure. I felt the big, stiff 
boner thrusting up into me repeatedly, revelling in the lewdness of the hard, penetration, in 
the sucking sensation of my asshole around his hard male meat.

My pussy flared and boiled and crackled with sexual desire as Mrs. Harris crushed her face 
into the soft, moist opening and sucked for all she was worth. I came, and came again, crying 
out in joy and glee as the orgasms rushed over me.

<<< IMAGE 5 >>>





CHAPTER SIX


After he had come in my asshole, Mr. Harris reached up and lifted me off the hook I was 
hanging from, then let me slide down onto my knees on the floor. I was exhausted, both 
mentally and physically, but neither of them was ready to let me have any peace or rest.

Mr. Harris put the cat O’ nine tails back and took out a simple yard long switch instead.

“You’re going to learn some manners, little slut,” he said. “It’s not good enough just to be 
obedient, you have to be well behaved as well.”

He gripped my tangled hair and jerked back, making me cry out in pain. “Sit straight, slut,” 
he snarled. “Sit back on your heels, you tramp!”

I hastened to obey, as he stood up and let go of my hair. He trailed the switch up and 
down my back, snapping it against my tender, sore flesh until my back was very straight. Then 
he moved around in front of me and slapped at my knees until they were further back.

I was sitting on my heels, knees folded under me, wide, wide apart, back straight, head up, 
and hands either behind my back or laying flat on my upper thighs, and this, he said, was the 
position I should assume whenever I was told to sit.

He gripped my hair and raised me up off my heels, again making my back straight, making
me kneel there in front of him, my face next to his cock as he ran the switch down my back. 
This, he said, was how I should be when I was ordered to kneel, with my hands always clasped 
behind my back.

Then he gripped my hair again and yanked it so I fell forward onto my hands and knees. 
Again he said I must kneel precisely, legs apart, ass raised, head up, hands apart.

“You kneel there like a sluttish bitch in heat,” he said, “which is precisely what you are, a 
whore ready to be mounted and rode.”

I trembled at his words. I thought they were unfair, given that he was the only man to ever 
fuck me, but wasn’t about to protest. At the same time the words kind of excited me, made 
me feel like a hot, trampy woman, which was what I longed to be.

“All right, dog, crawl,” he ordered, smacking my ass sharply with the switch.

I yelped in pain and lurched forward, then, as the switch cracked against my ass again, 
started crawling rapidly around the room. He followed along behind, smacking the switch on 
my ass whenever I failed to keep my legs apart or my ass high, or moved to fast or too slow.

He made me crawl around and around the room, following along behind, sneering down 
at me as I crawled. My knees ached, but not nearly as much as the sharp bite of the switch on 
my already well whipped ass cheeks.

“Heel,” he said, walking along a pace in front of me. I was to crawl along with my face right
next to his leg, not getting ahead or behind as he walked. It was hard, cause he walked fast 
and I had to crawl really fast to keep up.

“Sit,” he ordered, stopping suddenly.

I blanked for a minute, then quickly sat back on my heels and spread my legs beneath me 
as I straightened my back.

“Good slut,” he said.

“Yes, good slut,” Mrs. Harris giggled, patting my head like I was a dog.

“All right, whore, on your belly,” he ordered.

That was a new one, but not hard to figure out.

I leaned forward and slid onto my belly, laying there on the floor with my sore breasts 
pressing into the cold stone.

“Roll over, whore,” he said.

I rolled onto my back and he walked around to my feet.

“Pull your legs up and back, slut,” he said.

I swallowed nervously, then lifted my legs, bending them and drawing my knees back 
against my chest. “More!” he snapped.

I drew my legs back tighter, gripping them behind the knees as I raised my ass off the 
floor.

“Jerk off for us, tramp,” he sneered, tossing me a dildo.

I plucked it off my belly and stared at it for a moment, and finally, belatedly realized that 
Mrs. Harris was holding a camcorder and video taping everything. I stared at her in shock, 
then down at the dildo.

“Are you going to disobey, slut?” he asked softly.

“Now!” I gasped. “No, Master!”

I prodded my pussy opening with the dildo and thrust it up into myself, gasping in pain at 
the force of the penetration. I could see Mrs. Harrison moving around to stand between my 
legs, then dropping to one knee as she focused the camera on my pussy.

I pumped the dildo back and forth in my cunt opening as they watched, then gasped as he
tossed another dildo onto my belly. “Fuck your asshole for us, bitch,” he said.

I knew I couldn’t disobey, couldn’t resist, so I gripped the second dildo and slowly worked 
it up into my asshole, pumping both dildos in and out as they watched, as Mrs. Harris took 
video.

“Groan and moan for us,” she said. “Roll your head around and close your eyes. Act hot 
and sexy.” I whimpered, then did as she ordered, though I didn’t think it would be very 
convincing. I pumped my pussy and asshole with the dildos as I groaned and moaned and 
jerked my head from side to side.

“Enough. Shove them in deep and keep them there,” Mr. Harris ordered. “Then roll over 
and get on all fours.”

I pressed them both as deep as I could, then obeyed, kneeling on all fours as he walked up
beside me.

“Walkies,” he said, and started walking. I hurried to crawl alongside him, while his wife 
video taped and giggled.

“Don’t let either one fall out, slut,” he said.

I clamped my pussy and asshole down on the dildos immediately as I crawled along beside
him.

“Stop. Sit,” he said.

I sat back, folding my knees under me and sitting on my heels. I gasped, and shifted 
slightly, as the bases of the dildos pressed down on my heels.

“All right, whore, on your belly,” he said, walking to the other end of the room.

I hurriedly obeyed.

“Now crawl to me on your belly.”

That wasn’t easy, but I clenched my teeth against the pain as my breasts scraped over the 
stone floor, and crawled forward across the room to where he was standing. My breasts were 
crushed down onto the stone, and I whimpered in pain as they sawed across the dirty floor.

Then I reached him, panting for breath as I looked up. He smiled and raised his right foot, 
pressing it against my face.

“Suck my toes, whore. Lick my foot clean.”

The words burned in my mind, and I felt the terrible degradation of what he wanted. But 
rather than embarrassment, I felt a rocketing arousal. I pictured myself in my mind, laying 
naked and licking his feet. It was so perverted, so demeaning, so rawly sexual, that I trembled 
with almost uncontrolled lust as I pushed my tongue out and licked his foot.

I saw his wife moving closer, focusing the camera on me as my tongue wriggled around 
between his toes, and lapped against his ankles. My stomach rolled and churned with sexual 
heat as my entire body was gripped in a thick, hazy cloud of lust.

“Master,” I croaked, licking at his foot. “Master.” I knew she was taping me, and the 
knowledge egged me on, turned my lust ever higher. “Dirty whore,” he sneered, rubbing the 
bottom of his foot against my face.

“Master,” I moaned, licking at his heel and toes.

He rubbed his foot over my face, then shoved back so I rolled onto my side, then onto my 
back. He walked forward, then pressed his foot against my breasts, rubbing the his wet foot 
over my mammaries, crushing and rolling the soft meat beneath his toes.

He slid his foot down between my legs, rubbing my bald pussy, and I gripped his leg and 
closed my thighs on it, rubbing myself back on it, whining in heat and lust as I felt the 
pressure against my naked pussy pad.

“Dirty slut,” he sneered. “Dirty piece of fuck meat.”

“Master,” I moaned.

I was totally, completely, and absolutely alive with quivering sexuality. My whole mind and 
body and soul were saturated with sexual heat and desire and lust and a quavering longing 
for the kind of raw, rough, violent sex that I had so long dreamed of, that I had already been 
given.

“Are you a good girl?” he growled.

“No,” I moaned, gasping a little at the word. “I’m a bad girl. I’m a filthy whore! Punish me, 
master. Rape me. Beat me!”

“Whore!” he sneered, slashing the switch across my back.

“Ooohhhh!” I cried. “Oohh! yeess! I’m a whore!”

“Crawl, whore!” he sneered, lashing the switch across my back and buttocks.

I sobbed and moaned and yelped in pain and heat as I crawled across the floor on my 
belly, deliberately grinding my breasts into the stone as I moved towards the far wall. 
Suddenly, I reached a wooden base, and realized where I was, that I was next to the T shaped 
frame where he’d bound me and whipped my breasts.

Yet I felt only a slight fear, an anxiety, for my body flared with lust and heat at the thought 
of being bound and beaten. I didn’t care about the pain any more, only the pleasure. The heat
was what drove me on, and the heat of pain was now only a minor thing compared to the 
heat of pleasure.

I crawled onto the base, gripping the frame and pulling myself up to my feet. I clung to it 
as the switch lashed across my back and buttocks again and again and again. I sobbed and 
moaned and cried out in pain as the blows blasted heat through my quivering, trembling 
body.

He gripped my arm and roughly turned me around, then lifted me up. I gripped the big 
wooden cock and as he settled me down I brought it against my asshole instead of my pussy. 
I groaned in almost overwhelming pleasure as it pressed against my anus and drove up into it.

I cried out, then shook and came, crying again and again as a massive wall of pleasure 
howled through my body. My feet jerked and twisted and my head fell back and bounced 
against the crossbeam as he lowered me onto the dildo and it drove high into my guts.

I spread my arms and gripped the crossbeam as my toes touched the base, but then I 
spread my legs, letting all my weight come down on my tail bone as I was impaled on the 
hard, wooden cock.

I felt the strap being wrapped around my wrist, but also winding around and around my 
forearm, then my upper arm all the way to the shoulder. My other arm was wrapped as well, 
pinning it tightly to the crossbeam.

I expected him to strap my legs down, but instead he lifted my right leg and shoved it 
back. I cried out again as my body was twisted atop the thick, long dildo inside my belly. I was 
bent back, Mrs. Harris gripping my other leg, lifting and spreading it wide, pulling my ankle 
back towards the crossbeam.

Both my ankles were tightly strapped to the cross beam where my arms were bound, and 
my groin was utterly, utterly bare and naked and vulnerable. The thick, hard dildo was high 
and deep in my guts, and I shook around it, and came again, my mind spinning and shattered 
by the force of the sexual gale that poured through me.

I looked across the room at the mirror and saw myself, and came again, bouncing and 
jerking helplessly on the wooden cock as I saw my gaping cunt maw and the way the dildo 
stuck into my round anus.

Then Mr. Harris stepped in front of the mirror, blocking my view. I looked up and saw his 
hand raised high, holding the cat, he lashed it down and I jerked my eyes down at my naked 
pussy, watching as the tails lashed across it, cutting into my pussy mound, thighs, buttocks 
and belly.

I howled in agony, but the pain was somehow pure, like white-hot fire, and the roaring 
sexual vortex consumed me. Again the cat lashed down, and again, and again, and again, 
tearing and flailing at my exposed pussy and ass.

I cried out as Mrs. Harris moved in and stuck alligator clips on my pussy, then peeled my 
cunt lips wide, wide, wide apart, tying lines to rings. Mr. Harris moved her aside, and I saw he 
held a riding crop in his hand now.

I was delirious with the sexual firestorm tearing apart my mind, but I gazed down at my 
glistening pink cunt meat, my gaping cunt opening, and knew the target of the whip. I let my 
head fall back, and stared up at the ceiling as I waited.

The blow lashed directly against my exposed pink pussy meat, and the pain and pleasure 
exploded inside me like a holocaust, consuming every fibre of my being. I screamed and 
howled and shook, bouncing and jerking on the wooden dildo as the crop lashed against my 
cunt flesh again, then again, then again.

I passed out, and woke briefly to find Mr. Harris fucking me. It had only been minutes, or 
perhaps seconds. I was still bound to the frame, still impaled on the wooden cock. But a real 
cock pumped furiously into my fuck tunnel as Mr. Harris growled and chewed against my 
throat.

I passed out again. When I woke the world was in confusion, or at least, my world was. I 
couldn’t see, couldn’t think, couldn’t even get my mind to work right. I couldn’t even orient 
myself in the world.

I heard a soft music, very soft, and under it was a small voice, a voice I didn’t even really 
think about for some long time. I didn’t know if it was my voice, or my subconscious, or 
someone talking to me.

After awhile, don’t ask me how long, I realized I was upside down, hanging by the ankles. 
Something was over my eyes, a blindfold of sorts, and my wrists were shackled behind my 
back. I moved only slightly, swinging a bit, and the voices…

I had something over my ears, like headphones, and the music and voice came from there.

“Obey,” the voice whispered. “I must obey. I am a whore. I am a slut. I must obey. I am 
made for sex. My only purpose is to give pleasure to others.

I am creature made for fucking. I must always obey.

I must always be good. I must fuck everyone. I love fucking. I need fucking. I glory in 
fucking. Fucking is my life. Obedience is my duty…”

On and on and on it went, the voice barely audible. I couldn’t get my mind to work right, 
and it kind of sputtered and jerked in fits and starts. My head felt swollen, the pressure 
threatening to force my skull open. I guess it was from being upside down, ail the blood 
flowing to my head, but it made it hard to think at all.

I lost consciousness again, or maybe fell asleep.

I woke and slept and woke and slept for hours on end, all through the night, in fact. After a
long time I felt hands on me, stroking my breasts and belly, then something hard and buzzing 
touched my pussy crack and was forced slowly down into my cunt tube.

My pussy ached fiercely, but somehow I hadn’t noticed until the I felt the pressure of the… 
whatever, against my soft, wounded skin. It was a vibrator, and whoever was there shoved it 
down my fuck tunnel to the hilt, then, just for good measure, forced a second down my 
asshole.

And then went away.

My mind still wasn’t working right, and as the vibrators did their work it functioned with 
even less cohesion. I was soon shaking and twitching and swinging and moaning and 
bouncing on the end of whatever line I hung from, moaning in pleasure as sexual heat rolled 
through my system.

I can’t remember much about that time, how long it lasted, what I thought or felt. All I 
remember is a series of orgasms, a terrible, draining exhaustion, and falling in and out of 
consciousness.

Finally someone lowered me to the floor, and I lay on my back groaning, light headed as 
the blood seeped out of my skull. Someone lifted me up and dropped me onto something 
that was hard, but not stone. I heard a gush, a spray of water, then felt it on my body, raining 
down and flooding over me.

I still couldn’t see, but my wrists were still bound behind me. I felt something soft, a clothe 
or sponge, I guess, rubbing over my body, felt the slickness of soap.

I heard a humming, and as the scattered fragments of my mind slowly worked themselves 
back into place I recognized the sound as Mrs. Harris. She soaped me all over and scrubbed 
me down with something soft. She rolled me onto my belly and removed the restraints from 
my wrists, then cleaned my back.

She even cleaned my hair, finally taking the blindfold off so I could see her. She held a 
hose in one hand, the end of which looked like one of those shower massage things. She 
hummed as she rinsed out my hair and scalp, then turned it off.

I was laying on the table in the basement room. I felt a little surprise at this, but I guess, 
since the floor was stone, and there was a drain not far away, she didn’t much care if water got
onto it.

She produced a thick towel and put it over me, sopping up most of the water, then had 
me sit up. She dried my hair, not saying anything, then plugged in a hair dryer and blow dried 
it.

“And how do we feel this morning?” she asked.

“Okay,” I said.

“Okay, mistress,” she chided.

“Okay, Mistress.”

“Hungry?”

I thought about it for a second.

“Yes, Mistress.”

“Good. Good. We’ll get you something to eat.

“All done.” she said, standing back. “All right, get down.”

I slid slowly off the table and stood shakily for a moment, but her hands pressed down on 
my shoulder and I slid almost naturally to my knees.

“Come, dear,” she said, walking towards the door.

I crawled along behind her and out the door into the open part of the basement. Then we 
crawled up the stairs, which was something of a challenge on hands and knees, and into the 
kitchen.

“Sit,” she ordered.

I sat back like Mr. Harris had showed me, my mind almost intact now.

Why was I doing this if my mind was intact? I don’t know. There didn’t seem to be any 
good reason not to.

She pushed something into the microwave oven and then hummed to herself and opened
the fridge. She took out some milk and poured it in a bowl, then set it down on the floor in 
front of me.

“Drink your milk, dear,” she said.

I looked down at the bowl, and without asking, without her telling me, I knew she didn’t 
want me to pick it up and drink from it. I instead leaned forward and dropped to my hands 
and knees, then lowered my lips to the bowl and sucked the liquid up through them.

There was a sharp ting from the oven and she opened it and took out some porridge, then
set it down next to the milk. My stomach growled in hunger, since I’d hardly eaten yesterday 
evening, and I switched to that bowl, slurping up the porridge.

After I’d finished eating and finished the milk she had me crawl into the bathroom and 
then had me lean over the toilet as she brushed my teeth. That was an interesting experience, 
having someone else brush your teeth, but I accepted it passively enough.

“Now what shall we do today?” she smiled, hands on her knees.

My parents were both at work by now, and so I guess she figured nobody was going to be
missing me for at least eight or ten more hours. As for me, there was a passiveness in me, and 
I didn’t have anywhere better to be anyway.

“I don’t know, Mistress,” I said.

“Why don’t we get you something to wear?”

She had me crawl after her down the hall and into the master bedroom, then patted the 
bed and had me crawl up onto it and kneel there.

She went to a dresser and picked up several thick metal bands, then came back to me. 
Each was a dark metal, perhaps three inches wide. I saw that aside from smooth, unmarked 
metal, each had a crack, or line, a small key hole, and a heavy ring set into them.

I watched her pull one open, then lit it around my left wrist. She closed it and I heard a 
click as it locked closed. She placed the other three around my other wrist and ankles, then, 
humming to herself, went back to the dresser and got a matching collar, and several lengths 
of chain.

She fitted the collar around my throat, and locked chain to it. She fitted a chain between 
the ankle restraints, or shackles, so I couldn’t spread my legs more than a few inches apart, 
then fitted another small chain between my wrist shackles.

“Good girl,” she smiled, patting my head.

She gripped the chain attached to my collar and then slapped her thigh. “Come,” she said, 
walking away.

I crawled off the bed and followed, my mind sorting out all this weirdness. It was all a 
strange, but heady experience, and I felt hot and sexy being in shackles and chains like this, 
crawling along the floor.

It was like one of my fantasies come to life, except it was a woman leading me and not a 
man. I wondered where Mr. Harris was, supposing he was at work.

Mrs. Harris walked me into the living room, then sat down on an overstuffed chair. She 
was wearing, I should say, a tight, short, leather dress, and long black stockings with stiletto 
heeled shoes. Her hair was pulled hack in a tight bun, and, as she lifted her legs and draped 
them across the arms of the chair, I saw that she wore no panties under the skirt.

She patted her groin and smiled.

“Lick me, doggy girl,” she smiled.

I eased in between her legs and began to lick at her snatch, sliding my tongue up and 
down the slit as she sighed and lay back, relaxing. I raised my hands slowly, not sure if she 
wanted me to, and peeled her crack open. There was no complaint, so I slid a finger inside her 
and pumped it in and out as I tongued and sucked on her clitty.

After some minutes she came, but didn’t release me. I continued to lick, though my jaw 
and tongue were getting tired. After more minutes she came, but still wanted me to lick.

“Mistress?” I whined.

“What?”

“I can hardly move my tongue and jaw,” I moaned.

She glared at me, then shrugged.

“You’re going to have to give them more exercise, dear. You should practice constantly, 
pushing your tongue out as long as possible.”

She stuck her own tongue out and I watched in surprise as it slid up and across her nose.

“When you can touch your nose with your tongue you can stop practising.”

“Yes, Mistress,” I said, impressed. “Uhm, Mistress?”

“Yes, doggy girl?”

“I uh, need to go to the bathroom?”

She sighed and rolled her eyes, then pulled her legs together and stood up. She gripped 
my chain, leash, I guess, and walked me into the kitchen. Then she opened the back door and 
tugged. I drew back a little, but then peeked out and saw that, with their high fence nobody 
around could see into the yard.

I let her pull me out the door and onto the porch, then off onto the patio. She led me onto
the grass and over to a tree.

“Go ahead,” she said, holding the leash while she watched.

I stared at her in shock, embarrassment and excitement mingling inside me. What a thing! 
What a thing to do!

I looked around me again, then looked at her.

“Go on,” she said.

My insides quivered with lust as I squatted next to the tree, spreading my knees apart as 
the stream of urine splashed down onto the grass. I shuddered and moaned as it poured 
down, as her eyes stared at me, then I came, gasping and moaning and shaking as my body 
was ripped by orgasmic power.

Oh God! What a FUCKING WHORE I was!

She had me rub my pussy on the grass, then led me back into the house. There was a 
jacket on the sofa and she called out.

“Rick? Are you home?”

“In the bedroom,” he called back.

“Come,” she said, leading me into the bedroom. She had me crawl up onto the bed, then 
went over to her husband and kissed him.

“I see you’ve got the little slut properly outfitted,” he smirked, removing his shirt as he 
stared at me.

“All ready for action,” she smiled. “Though her tongue is a little sore by now.”

“I wonder why,” he snorted.

<<< IMAGE 6 >>>





CHAPTER SEVEN


I felt my insides quivering as Mr. Harris approached. I was totally consumed, totally caught up 
in the sexual role playing that he had forced upon me. My own fantasies had come to life, and
I had given myself to them utterly.

He gripped the chain leading to my collar and jerked it up and hack, forcing me up off my 
hands. He pulled it back harder, and I gasped as my back arched and the collar pulled against 
my throat.

“What a slutty little whore we have here,” he breathed. “What a hot piece of pussy meat.”

He let go of the chain, the leash if you will, and his eyes flicked over me. “Turn around, 
whore,” he said.

On all fours, I shuffled around to present him with my ass and pussy, trembling slightly, 
aware of his wife’s eyes on me as well. I felt his hand thrust in between my thighs and grip my 
pussy mound, and a flood of crackling heat ripped through my belly.

I gasped and whimpered, helplessly grinding my ass back, grinding it in a jerky, circular 
motion as his fingers roughly kneaded my soft, sensitive pussy flesh. I was on the verge of 
coming, my body screaming with sexual energy, my mind pulsing, flaring with lust and heat.

But then he stopped, his hand pulling free and slapping my ass hard, producing a loud 
CRACK! of noise and a sharp cry of pain. “Turn around, tramp,” he sneered. Moaning 
unhappily, I shuffled around again to face him, and saw him pulling his pants down, stepping 
out naked. He gripped his semi hard cock and rubbed it over my face, then pushed it into my 
mouth.

I sucked automatically, sliding my tongue around and around the head, then bobbing my 
lips up and down it several times before taking it into my throat.

I gulped the whole thing down, feeling it slide its way down my gullet, watching as more 
and more of his thick tool pushed through my lips until my lips were pressed up against his 
body and my nose was crushed against his abdomen.

His hands moved through my hair as I eased back down his cock again, but they made no 
attempt to stop me as I slowly worked my throat back and forth on his prick. I pulled back all 
the way then and gulped in air as he rubbed his cock over my face.

“Turn around, slut,” he said.

I turned quickly, eagerly spreading my legs for him. But then I felt his cockhead pressing 
against my asshole instead of my pussy. I whimpered in disappointment, but couldn’t protest, 
didn’t dare. Anyway, the idea of being fucked like this, sodomized on all fours while chained 
hand and foot, was incredibly arousing.

His spit-wet cock pushed into my asshole slowly, but steadily, and I eased up on my anal 
muscles to let it come through. Within a minute he was fully buried in my tail, grinding his 
hips against my soft buttocks as his hands stroked up and down my flanks.

“You’re become a real top flight piece of fuck meat, baby,” he growled.” A hole for all 
comers.”

“Yes, Master,” I groaned excitedly.

He pulled his cock back a little, then thrust forward. I gasped and raised my ass higher, 
spreading my legs a little more.

He pulled back again, further, then thrust back in. Again he pulled back, further still, 
building up the length and speed of his stroke until he was pounding against me with long, 
brutal movements, his hips slamming into my buttocks with painful, jarring force, making me 
bounce forward on the bed, his cock stabbing up into my belly like an impaling spear, then 
tearing free again.

I grunted continuously as his hips hammered me and his cock reamed my asshole. I stared
at the far wall, then down at the bed below me. I saw my breasts wobbling and shaking wildly 
below me, then turned and saw Mrs. Harris with her camcorder recording it all. I moaned and 
raised my ass still higher, exposing my pussy to his jarring strokes.

His balls spanked against it again and again, in a teasing, taunting way that kept me just 
on the edge of coming. I wanted to ease one of my hands down between my legs to press 
against my clitty, knowing I would come at once, but when I tried I found the chain binding 
them together wouldn’t allow it.

I had to kneel there and grunt and moan as his big hips slammed into my soft white 
buttocks, panting and groaning as his stiff prong rutted about in my small round asshole, 
hoping he would do something to relieve the immense sexual pressure building up inside my 
trembling body.

Then he gave a series of especially hard strokes that spiked his cock deep, deep into my 
anus and came, spewing his steaming jism up into my asshole. I shuddered, trying to rub my 
pussy back against him to bring myself off, but he pulled free, slapped my ass again, and 
ordered me to turn around.

He took the camera from Mrs. Harris as she lifted her leather skirt and exposed her crotch. 
She gripped my hair and pulled my face into her crotch, and I began to lick and suck on her 
bare little pussy crack.

She soon began groaning and sighing in pleasure. Her fingers tightened in my hair, jerking
and pulling on it as she arched her back and humped against me. Then she came, gurgling in 
pleasure as she mashed her crotch into my face.

Mr. Harris stepped forward and he held something in front of my face. It was a kind of 
round ball, about the size of a ping pong ball, and attached to it was a foot long lank of hair. It
was thick, and looked blonde. He moved behind me and pressed the ball against my anus, 
popping it through, where it rested. The tail, for that was what it looked like, hung loose down
between my thighs.

“All right, whore, let’s go for a walk,” he said, gripping the chain attached to my collar.

He pulled me off the bed, and I walked around the room, the tail swinging from side to 
side between my thighs, caressing my naked pussy mound with a light, but ticklish and 
teasing stroke.

He led me into the living room, and he me sit, roll over, crawl on my belly, then lay on my 
back, spread my legs, and finger fuck myself while his wife filmed me.

Then the front door bell rang.

I gasped, and my eyes went to the door. I rolled off the sofa and got to my feet, but Mr. 
Harris gripped my hair and jerked down hard, making me cry out as I fell to my knees.

“You sit!” he snapped.

I bent my legs under e and sat, trembling in anxiety as his wife went to the door. What if it 
was my parents?! What if someone else saw me like this? What would they say?”

To my horror Mrs. Harris opened the door wide and a man walked in. Mr. Harris snapped 
the chain warningly, and I kept still as he walked into the room, eyes moving onto me and 
opening wide. He was about thirty, slender, with a somewhat pretty face, and curly blonde 
hair.

“Well, well, well,” he said. “What have we here?”

“Hello, Jack, what do you think of this little whore?” Mr. Harris asked casually.

“Nice tits on her. Nice everything, in fact.”

“Want a piece?”

“Now?”

“I thought I’d take her to the club later.”

“She’ll sure be popular,” he laughed.

He jerked on my chain, causing me to fall forward onto my hands.

“Walk around for him, whore, show him your tail,” Mr. Harris ordered.

“Yes, Master,” I said automatically. Then I flushed in embarrassment.

See, I was playing a great game with the Harris’s, and loving it, but I hadn’t really thought 
about bringing anyone else into the game, and a new guy took some getting used to. I was 
terribly embarrassed as his eyes roamed over my naked flesh, as he saw me degraded and 
demeaned.

But I had to obey, so I walked around the room as he followed me with his eyes, then 
hopped onto the coffee table at Mr. Harris’s order.

“Nice meat,” the new man said.

He slid a hand under my chest and groped one of my breasts, sinking his fingers into it as 
he kneaded and squeezed the malleable meat. His hand trailed back along my side and in 
between my legs to finger my slit, and I felt a mixture of desperate embarrassment and 
massive excitement.

What a truly sluttish thing I was doing, kneeling her while a complete stranger fondled me!

He stroked his fingers along my slit, then thrust two of them into me with savage force. I 
cried out, half rising off my hands, but he jerked his fingers out again immediately. I heard his 
zipper going down, and he moved around behind me.

He was going to fuck me! He was a complete stranger and I was going to let him fuck me! 
Was I? Would I let anyone fuck me now? Would I passively accept any cock that approached 
me while I knelt here?

Yes.

Yes, I would.

I was a whore, a whore in chains, a hot assed bitch in heat with a collar and leash, naked, 
ass raised, legs spread and…

“UUuunngghhhh!” I cried, as his cock pierced me and rammed in all the way to the balls 
on a single powerful stroke.

“That’s what she’s been begging for,” Mr. Harris sneered.

The stranger’s hands gripped my flanks as he began to rut into me, his cock sawing back 
and forth over my clitty, his hips pounding into my ass the way Mr. Harris’ had been half an 
hour earlier. I felt a moment of confusion, then a wave of electrical excitement.

I humped back against him, panting and whining and groaning as the pressure built up in 
my skull and the sexual fever burned away all resistance. I came, grunting and yelping and 
squealing with delight, abandoning all restraints as his he rode me with furious, powerful 
strokes, jamming his cock in to the hilt again and again.

He came inside me and pulled out, then idly gripped my hair and rubbed his cock dry 
before putting it back in his pants.

“Yeah, she’ll be popular,” he snorted.

I didn’t know what he meant and didn’t care. I moaned weakly, sagging a little there on 
the table as I felt the orgasmic energy slowly dissipating.

He and Mr. Harris went into the bedroom, talking to each other, while Mrs. Harris went 
into the kitchen, leaving me there on the table. I wondered what to do, whether I should go 
home now or what, but didn’t know if I should move, if they had other… interesting things 
planned for me today. It sounded like it.

Mrs. Harris came out of the kitchen and pulled me off the table, then had me stand up. 
She pulled me across the room to the hall which led into the garage, then lifted the chain that 
was locked to my collar and hooked it on something up high.

She got another chain from somewhere and locked it to the one binding my wrists 
together, then let it fall down to the chain between my ankles, where she locked it with a small
padlock. I could now not raise my hands much beyond my waist.

Then she went into the bedroom too. A minute later the stranger… Jack, his name was, 
came out. He stood before me a moment, sliding his hands up and down my torso, then 
moved away and sat down on a chair. He lit a cigarette and looked idly out the window.

Ten minutes later Mr. and Mrs. Harris came out of the bedroom. He was clad all in black, 
black pants, turtle neck sweater. She had on a black, low cut dress. “All ready,” she said.

Jack stood up, and Mr. Harris pulled the chain down off the hook and led me back and 
around the corner, then opened the door to the garage. I hadn’t asked anything to this point, 
but when he opened the trunk of his car and motioned me forward I balked.

“Wait a second,” I said. “Where are you going? I’m not riding in a trunk.”

“You’ll do as you’re ordered, slut,” he glared. “You’ll obey my wishes or be punished.”

“But…”

Something grabbed my hair and jerked back sharply. I cried out in pain, and as my mouth 
opened wide something thick and rubbery was jammed in between my teeth. I blinked at it in 
surprise, and felt straps pulled around my head.

“It’s called a ball gag, dear,” Mrs. Harris smiled, patting my head. “It looks good on you.”

Mr. Harris lifted me into the trunk and slammed the hood down, then he and the others 
got into the car and I heard and felt the engine starting. The garage door opened and they 
drove off.

I lay curled up in the trunk for almost an hour before the car finally stopped and the 
engine turned off. I felt the car lurch as they got out, and heard the car doors slam, then there 
was a clicking sound at the trunk and it opened.

I blinked my eyes as bright sunlight streamed down on me, then reached for his arms as 
he pulled me out of the trunk and set me on my feet.

We were in an alley between tall brick buildings. There was a tall black fence at either end 
of the alley, one with a gate in it through which we’d obviously driven through. The wall on 
our right was blank, but the one on the left had many windows in it.

I was still absolutely naked, of course, shackled and chained and gagged. I looked around 
me wildly, finding it extremely unsettling to be naked out of doors, especially in the middle of 
the city, with the sounds of traffic right outside.

Mr. and Mrs. Harris were beside me, with the other guy, Jack, bringing up the rear. There 
was another man, all bald and ugly at a metal door. He licked his lips as he saw me, then 
greeted the Harris’s. I flushed in embarrassment, wondering what in hell was going on.

The Harris’s were obviously into more kinky stuff than I’d imagined.

The bald man led us down a narrow hallway to a wooden door, then through this into a 
large bar of sorts, with several dozen tables spaced around… all empty, thank God.

It was extremely bizarre to be walking around naked like this in what was obviously a 
public place, but I had no say in the matter, and, well, it was also incredibly erotic too.

We went up a wide flight of carpeted stairs, me taking them one at a time, and very 
carefully, then turned into a small hall and into a small door at the end.

“Bring her in when we tell you, Phil,” Mr. Harris said.

“You bet, Mr. Harris,” the bald man growled.

Then the Harris’s and Jack left, going out the door. I felt a wave of fear as I was left alone 
with the big, ugly, mean looking bald guy. He chuckled and gripped the chain, pulling me 
tight up against him.

“Ain’t you a pretty thing,” he sneered, his eyes moving up and down my body.

His hands soon followed, groping my breasts and ass and pussy as he licked and slurped 
at my throat and face.

I couldn’t do much to resist, and was pretty sure Mr. Harris wouldn’t like it if I did anyway, 
but jees, I had no idea what the hell was going on, and was starting to get a little scared.

“Come here, slut,” the bald man said, pulling on my chain.

He led me across the small room to a little mirror, or what I thought was a mirror. It was 
actually a small window that looked out into a larger room.

That room was sumptuously decorated, with thick, plush carpeting and heavy, padded 
chairs. There were about thirty people there, all well dressed men and woman. They sat in 
chairs that faced a wall. There was a podium set at one side of the wall, and a big screen TV on
the other side.

I saw Mr. Harris stand up and go to the wall, then face the others. I couldn’t’ hear what he 
was saying really, but did make out words like submissive, slut, teenager, enough to get the 
idea he was talking about me.

Then he sat down and the big screen TV came on.

I stared in horror as the screen filled with my image. First there was me jerking off as I 
watched the TV, then me rubbing myself with the chain. After that came Mr. Harris’s first rape, 
then me bouncing on the stool dildo, then him beating my breasts.

I have to say that, despite the embarrassment I felt as the people watched that, I felt a 
wave of heat when I saw how erotic I looked bent back over the frame. I gasped and clenched 
my teeth as I saw the paddle turning my breasts red, then watched the riding crop lashed 
down on them.

The bald guy was watching over my shoulder, and his hands were around me groping my 
breasts. Then, as the scene changed to me crawled on my belly to lick at Mr. Harris’s toes, the 
bald man pulled my ass back and spread my legs, then thrust his cock into my pussy crack 
from behind.

I moaned, but couldn’t tear my eyes of the TV as I sucked on Mr. Harris’ toes, deep 
throated his cock, licked Mrs. Harris’s pussy, then was fist fucked by her.

I hadn’t even realized she was taping this, but I guess the cameras were on the tripods the 
whole time and I just hadn’t noticed.

I watched her pulling my cunt lips wide and holding there with the alligator clips, then saw
her slowly pushing the vibrators and dildos into me before forcing her entire hand up my 
snatch.

Then came the beating with the cat O’ nine tails, then my degrading crawling and whining 
and begging, licking his feet, then crawling to the stand where I slid my asshole over the 
wooden cock and was beaten on my pussy, then raped again.

“Jesus, what a fuckin’ slut,” the bald man gasped, still watching over my shoulder as he 
pumped his cock inside me.

I had to agree. I watched as my apparently unconscious body was hauled upside down off 
the table and hung by the ankles, watched again as vibrators were pushed into my pussy and 
asshole, and I began to jiggle and shake and moan.

Behind me the bald man began humping faster and faster, and I groaned and spread my 
legs as much as I could as his cock sawed back and forth through my pussy lips. His hands 
clawed at my breasts as he pounded his meat up my pussy with total abandon.

Then I came, eyes glued to the humiliating scene on the TV as I rutted my ass back onto 
the bald man’s cock. I moaned and whimpered and gasped in delight as his come splashed 
into me at about the same time, then sagged against the wall, dazed and weak.

He pulled his cock out and snickered, then watched through the window again. I slowly 
regained my breath, but didn’t want to watch any more.

“Okay, let’s go,” he said.

He pulled my leash and led me out the door, then down the hall and into another door. To
my horror I found myself in the larger room where all those people were sitting. Every eye 
turned to me as the bald man led me into the room and up to the front, where he handed my 
chain over to Mr. Harris.

I looked down at the floor, mortified, as they all stared at me. I heard snatches of 
conversation, all of it obscene, remarks about my tits and ass and cunt crack, and what a 
whore I was, stuff like that.

Mr. Harris unhooked the chain that bound my wrists to my ankles and lifted it up above 
me. He hooked it to a chain above my head, then went to the wall. There was a machine noise,
some kind of grinding, then the chain was pulled higher and higher, until my wrists were held 
high above and my feet were barely on the floor.

I was totally exposed before at least thirty people, all adults, all full clothed, all strangers, 
and could do nothing to hide my naked flesh.

Mr. Harris turned my face to the wall, then I heard a hiss and a crack of noise as something
struck my back. I screamed into the gag as pain flashed through me like a wildfire, my body 
jerking and twitching and shaking in response.

I jerked my head around and saw him bring the riding crop down on my back a second 
time. Again the pain howled through me, and I screamed into the gag, bouncing and flailing 
on the chain as my body and mind were filled with pain.

The fact that he was whipping me was not… soo bad.

I mean, the pain was terrible, but I’d felt worse, and I guess pain didn’t bother me quite 
like it used to.

But it was so unexpected, and it was in front of all these people!

My mind was in turmoil, not knowing what to think, what to do, as the blows cracked 
down on my back again and again.

Then stopped. I stopped and shivered and whimpered as Mrs. Harris went to the wall and 
pushed a button, lowering the chain a little. Then she came to me, smiling, and pushed my ass
backwards, making me shuffle back away from the chain.

Since the chain held onto my wrists the effect was to bend me forward, and stick my ass 
out at the audience.

“Stay there, dear,” she ordered, letting go of my hips.

I knew what was coming, and braced myself as the crop lashed across my round ass 
cheeks. Pain flowered in my mind and I screamed into the gag as my eyes filled with tears. Yet 
besides the pain was a rapidly blossoming heat, for this lewd, erotic display, so shameful, so 
vulgar, was turning me on.

All these people were seeing me naked! And being whipped! The exhibitionist in me loved 
it, and the fantasies I’d always had seemed to tear at any doubts and embarrassments.

Oh I was still terribly embarrassed, but it no longer seemed to matter as much. The crop 
lashed across my round buttocks again and again as the audience watched, and I stood there 
and felt my insides spiralling upwards into a monumental sexual high.

I stuck my ass out a little more, spreading my legs, and the next blow cracked across my 
pussy. I howled in agony, jerking my hips in and out, screaming repeatedly into the gag as the
pain and pleasure mounted.

Again the crop lashed across my pussy, then again, then again, as my cunt screamed in 
pain and pleasure. Then I came, gurgling and moaning and humping back, rutting my ass 
against the crop as it lashed down again and again.

I was delirious with the pain and the sexual fever. When he stopped and I was turned 
around, when Mrs. Harris pushed me forward towards the audience so my wrists were forced 
up and back, I knew what was coming, and moaned in anticipation.

The crop lashed across my breasts and I screamed as I came again. I bucked my hips and 
my body convulsed in muscular convulsions as the crop whistled down again and again, faster
and faster, raising angry red, crisscrossing welts all over my breasts.

I came again, then again, then again, the orgasms ripping the energy from me as my 
breasts screamed in heat and agony.

Then I passed out.

I woke as they were manhandling my body, turning and twisting it about. I thought at first 
I was laying on my back, but I soon realized I was hanging from chains. One was latched to my
collar, one each to my ankle shackles, holding my legs up and well apart. There was a leather 
belt under my back, and a chain was attached to that as well, and my wrists were also bound 
to that chain, holding them up above me.

A woman was fooling with the chains, adjusting them just so as Mr. and Mrs. Harris looked
on smugly. My eyes fluttered as I realized there were people gathered to one side, men and 
woman, all watching.

Then the woman, a brunette of twenty-five or so, stripped off her top and pressed her 
bare tit at my face. I sucked weakly and she laughed and mashed her breasts against my face. 
“We don’t need the smelling salts,” she said.

She moved to my head, and hiked up the leather skirt she wore, then straddled my face 
and lowered her cunt onto it. At the same time a man, who, I couldn’t see, gripped my thighs 
and moved between them, then pressed his cock against my aching pussy crack.

He thrust into me, and I cried out, my lips no longer gagged, but effectively muffled by the
brunette’s pussy.

“Lick my pussy, slut,” she gasped, gripping my hair and jerking my face harder into her 
snatch.

I licked, moaning weakly as my body was pumped by a cock from the other end. My head 
was upside down as I ate the brunette, and my mind was filled with confusion and dazed 
incomprehension.

<<< IMAGE 7 >>>





CHAPTER EIGHT


I find it hard to describe that afternoon. For much of the time, at least for the first few hours, it
was all a blur, I licked pussy after pussy as cock after cock was thrust down my pussy or up my 
asshole. I think every man and woman there fucked me at least once, lining up to get at my 
hanging body.

I came… several times. I don’t know how many. Like I said, I don’t remember a lot of it. It’s 
all a long blur of cocks and pussies.

Then, after a while, they all sort of moved away, and had drinks, and rearranged their 
clothes, and it was like a sort of party, where people drank and snacked and made 
conversations.

Except I was still hanging there at one end of the room. Every now and then a man would 
come up and unbutton his fly, and shove his cock into my pussy, asshole, or mouth, or a 
woman would come and sit on my face, but for the most part I was left alone.

After a long time I was lowered, then carried into another room. There, I was hung from 
the wrists, and the bald man fucked me in the asshole. After he’d come he sprayed water all 
over me with a hose, then washed me with soap and a coarse brush. He even had a bristly 
pipe cleaner that he shoved up into my pussy and asshole and fucked me with.

He stuffed the hose up there too, cleaning me inside and out. He shampooed my hair, 
then finally lowered me, dried me, put some kind of mediciny smelly lotion on my ass, back, 
pussy, and tits, then with my wrists bound behind my back, he walked me back to where the 
Harris’s waited. I was placed in the trunk of their car again and driven back to their house.

The Harris’s sent me home, with a copy of the video tape, and ordered me to return early 
next Saturday morning.

It was bizarre acting normal around my family, around my friends too, with all that had 
happened to me. How shocked they would be if they’d had the slightest hint of the things I’d 
been through, the things that had been done to my body.

And yet I tried to act like I always had, even to not sneering at my girlfriends when they 
talked about sex.

I mean, like they knew anything!

I was the expert. I was the girl who’d sucked pussy and deep throated cock, who’d been 
raped and ass fucked and gang banged and chained and whipped and beaten.

I thought of myself as a real sexual creature, a real hot slut like the Harris’s and their 
friends had called me.

I didn’t flaunt it, exactly, but, with the bruises on my body I could never forget what I had 
done. Every time I moved, stood, sat, bent, turned, there would be the slight pain, reminding 
me of the cat, or the crop, or the cane, or the switch, or a particular hard fucking or sodomy, 
and I would tremble a bit, and thrust my chest out a little harder in pride.

Yes, pride.

I felt hot, sssssss, hot! I looked at myself in the mirror and posed, and I watched the video 
tape again and again, fingering myself to come after come as I watched my straining body 
being whipped and beaten.

I was not shy any more either. How could I be after what I’d been through? Thirty or more 
people had seen me naked, jerking off, whipped and raped and sodomized, then they had all 
gang hanged me, men and women both. Who could be shy about their body after that?

I didn’t do anything, not at first, except maybe walk with a wiggle to my hips when people 
were around, maybe dress in tighter clothes. I was much more aware of how others saw me 
now, much more aware when men’s eyes glanced towards my breasts, or looked down at my 
ass when I passed.

I was also aware of women’s bodies when I saw them, assessing them as possible bed 
partners, imagining them being whipped and beaten, naked, breasts thrust out.

I was thinking of sex constantly, almost counting down the hours until Saturday morning. 
Once, I bent over my dresser and slapped my own ass while fingering my pussy to a come.

Then it was Saturday. Almost trembling with lust I donned my shortest skirt, and tightest 
halter. Wearing no underwear, I made my way over to the Harris’s and rang the bell. It opened,
and to my surprise a stranger was there.

He was about my age, with a normal build, reasonably good looking, with short brown 
hair. He wore a checkered shirt and a pair of cutoffs. I felt my stomach quiver with anxiety, 
afraid that some relative of the Harris’s had come by unexpectedly and I wouldn’t get to do 
anything with them.

“Yeah?” he asked.

“Uhm, I uh, I came to see Mrs. Harris? My name is Sandy.”

“She ain’t here.”

“She isn’t? But… uhm, she said to come here Saturday morning.”

“She’ll be back later.”

“Oh, well… uhm…”

He rolled his eyes, then gripped my arm and jerked me into the house. I stumbled and 
yelped in surprise as he closed the door behind.

“Hey!” I cried.

He gripped my arm and threw me against the wall, then gripped my hair and rammed my 
hips into the narrow telephone table that was placed right against the wall. He kicked my legs 
apart, and jerked my skirt up.

“What a slut!” he laughed as he saw my bare ass.

His hand dove between my legs and squeezed my cunt in a painfully tight embrace as I 
yowled in pain. He stepped back, holding my cunt pad in his hand, squeezing so tight I 
couldn’t twist around to get at him. I yelled in pain, cursing and sobbing as his fist crushed my
poor pussy pad, but as much as I twisted I couldn’t get my hands at him.

He undid his pants and took out his cock, then gripped my hair and rammed my face into 
the wall hard enough to stun me. He jerked my hips wider, and I felt his cock against my 
asshole. Then he forced it forward, grunting with effort as he tried to cram his cock into my 
little round hole.

His cock stabbed up my asshole with vicious force as his hands gripped my hair and arm 
and held my face pressed against the wall. The narrow table forced my ass out, bending me 
over, and I could only moan and whimper as his cock rammed deep into my anus.

He snickered as he ground his balls into the underside of my buttocks. “What a tight 
asshole,” he leered, his right hand gripping my halter and tearing it upwards, baring my 
breasts.

He groped my naked breasts as I sobbed and moaned, his cock twisting and jerking 
around in my rectum. I had no idea who he was, or why he was acting like this. I guess I 
instinctively treated him like a stranger raping me, never really putting it together that the 
Harris’s must have told him about me, and given him leave to do whatever he wished.

If I’d had a minute to think I would have realized it pretty quick, but the speed and 
brutality of his attack made it hard to think, and then, with his cock pounding into my asshole,
all I could do was moan and whine and wait for him to finish.

It wasn’t until he buried his cock in my ass and dropped his sperm inside me, then let me 
go and backed away, that I slid down onto my knees and turned to see Mr. Harris leaning 
against the other wall, a big smile on his face.

I sniffled and wiped my eyes as I blinked across at him.

“You were right, Uncle Rick,” the guy said. “She’s got a great ass.”

“One of the best,” Mr. Harris said.

“Get your clothes off, slut,” he glared at me.

My mouth opened and closed and I turned to stare at the other guy, who snickered down 
at me.

“Do as you’re told, whore,” Mr. Harris said.

“Yeah, get naked, slut,” the guy sneered.

I flushed in anger and embarrassment. Somehow this was much worse, having to be 
obedient, to display myself to some leering teenage boy. I didn’t want to do it, didn’t want 
anything to do with him. Even though his rape had been far less violent than Mr. Harris’s first 
time I hated him for it.

It was probably because he was close to my own age. If he’d been an adult I guess I would 
have accepted it easier.

“Get her clothes off, Mark,” Mr. Harris said.

“Yeah,” the guy grinned.

He jumped forward and gripped my halter, ripping it open as I yelped and slapped at him. 
Then he gripped my hair and pulled me to my feet. He pulled my hair back hard, and I cried 
out in pain as I reached up and back for his wrist.

Meanwhile his other hand undid my skirt and jerked it down, letting it slide to my ankles. 
He shoved me forward and I tripped on the skirt and fell to the floor, then he dropped down 
behind me, yanking the skirt off as well as my shoes.

“She’s naked, Uncle Rick,” he laughed, gripping my arms and pulling me to my feet again.

“What do you think of this little slut, Mark?”

“Nice tits on her,” the guy said, looking down at them admiringly.

“Let her go now.” He let me go and I jerked away, glaring at him sulkily.

“Slut,” Mr. Harris snapped.

“Yes, uhm… uh… Master,” I said, mumbling the last word in shame as Mark snickered at 
me.

“Didn’t I order you to strip?”

“Yes, Master,” I gulped.

“Did you disobey me?”

“I… I… I didn’t mean to,” I whined.

“You’ll have to be punished.”

“Yes, Master,” I whimpered.

“Mark, go to the closet and take out one of the belts.”

“Sure, Unc,” he grinned, hurrying over.

He came back with a long, narrow black leather belt, and handed it to Mr. Harris.

“Slut!”

“Ye… yes, Master,” I gulped.

“Come here.”

I shuffled over to him and stood there, head down, looking at my feet.

“Sit down here in this chair.”

I sat in an overstuffed chair.

“Slump down.”

“Puzzled, I slumped down a little.

“More.”

I slumped more.

“Now, I want you to bring your legs up and back, waaay back.”

“Please, Master,” I whined, half afraid, half shamed at Mark’s presence.

“Obey my orders,” he snapped.

I licked my lips anxiously, then pulled my knees up and back against my chest.

“Spread them apart more, slut, and hold them there.” I spread them, and put my arms 
around them, linking my hands together under my knees. Mark leaned in, smiling in delight as
he saw my exposed cunt and ass.

“Are you a bad girl?”

“Yes, Master,” I sobbed.

“Say it.”

“I’m a bad girl, Master,” I sobbed.

“Again.”

“I’m a bad girl, Master!”

The belt rose, then lashed down directly onto my soft, sensitive pussy pad. I screamed in 
agony, rocking wildly, my head thrashing as the pain tore through my system, but I kept my 
hands linked under my arms as nausea and dizziness and flaring, biting pain clawed at my 
mind.

“MAAaaaaaan!” Mark exclaimed.

Again the belt raised and then lashed down.

CRACK! It whipped against my pussy mound with horrible force, making my head explode 
with pain. My eyes bulged and I shrieked in agony as tears flooded my eyes.

“Are you a bad girl?” he demanded.

“Yeeeesssssssss,” I sobbed.

CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRACK! CRAC-KACK!

The belt slashed down against my cunt mound again and again as I sobbed and screamed 
and cried in pain and misery.

“Here, you try a few.”

I hardly even heard the words, then the belt cracked against my cunt again. I screamed 
and sobbed as Mark shouted in glee. Again the belt lashed across my cunt mound, then 
again, then yet again, even harder.

“Man, I’m getting a hard-on again,” Mark cried.

“Enough,” Mr. Harris’s voice said.

He gripped my arms and jerked them apart, and my legs flopped down. Then he took my 
hair and dragged me off the chair and onto the carpet.

“Here, take this,” he said.

Mark gripped my hair and dragged my face up against his crotch, then pushed his cock 
into my mouth.

“Suck it, slut,” he growled.

I sucked automatically, obeying.

He pumped his cock rapidly in and out of my mouth, then hands were pressed against the 
back of my head, Mr. Harris’s hands, and my face was pushed all the way down on his cock. It 
slid down my throat, and came immediately, pouring it’s juices into my belly.

“Get a switch and you can put her through her paces,” Mr. Harris said.

For the next half hour Mark made me crawl around the room, lick his toes and feet, 
masturbate myself, and say the filthiest, dirtiest things about myself, laughing and sneering at 
me all the while.

I had to call him master, and obey his wishes, even after Mr. Harris left. Mark took me to 
the guest room where he was staying and then invited over some guys, all my age, then they 
all fucked me in the mouth, pussy, and asshole.

Mark made me crawl around on the floor in front of them, and lick their toes, and call 
them master, and he made me jerk off with dildos, and then force my whole hand up my 
pussy as they watched.

It was far more humiliating than what had happened at the club. Those people had taken 
it all in stride, none being particularly startled or surprised at what I had done. They had all 
been casual, horny, excited, but casual.

These guys were bug-eyed, shocked, homier than billy goats, amazed at what I did. There 
were constant curses of amazement whenever Mark made me do something particularly 
degrading.

It was far more humiliating than anything that had happened before, but I didn’t dare 
disobey.

All of them came at least twice, in me or on me, then I was sent home with instructions to 
return the next day.

I came back to find Mrs. Harris there, thankfully. She had me strip, then chained me like 
she had before, with the shackles. Then I licked her to a come.

I asked about Mark and she said he’d gone home. I felt a wave of relief at that, but then, as
I sat there on my heels, knees apart, a girl walked into the room.

She was about my age, a blonde, but a tough looking one, with spiked punkish hair. She 
looked at me with contempt, and I felt shamed and embarrassed.

“Karen, this is… oh dear, what was your name? Well, it doesn’t matter, this is the little dog 
girl. Take her out back and walk her around a little. Make sure she goes to the bathroom, then 
bring her back in and put her tail on. I’m having some guests over later.

Again I quivered in embarrassment. In fact, it was worse somehow. Karen shook her head 
in disgust as she saw me. “Whatever you say, Aunt Liz,” she sniffed.

She gripped the chain attached to my collar and pulled roughly, so I fell forward on my 
face.

“Come on, you little slut,” she snapped.

I crawled quickly behind her as she led me into the kitchen and out into the back yard. I 
felt terribly ashamed as she led me onto the grass.

“God, what kind of a whore are you?” she sneered.

“Are you some kind of sick nympho or something? I can’t believe you crawl around like a 
fuckin’ dog and let anybody do whatever they want to you.

“I’ve never seen anybody so cheap in my life!”

I hung my head, gasping and chocking as she jerked on the chain again and I fell again.

“Come on, you sick slut. Walk around like Aunt Liz says. I wanna get out of here before her
dyke friends show up.”

She let go of the chain and dropped back, then kicked my ass. “Go on, crawl faster,” she 
sneered.

I crawled faster, and she followed, kicking my ass again, then doing it again, calling me slut
and whore, and sicko.

She grabbed my chain and led me over to a tree and halted me. “Okay, piss on the tree, 
dog,” she sneered.

I quivered in embarrassment.

“Come on. I ain’t got all day!”

“I… don’t need to,” I whimpered.

“I didn’t ask if you needed to. Do it!”

“I can’t!” I whined.

She gripped my hair and I cried out in pain as she pulled it up and back, then jammed my 
head back against the tree. She wrapped the chain attached to my collar around and around 
the tree and my throat, then hooked it on a low branch.

She sneered down at me, then looked around, paused, then undid her pants and pulled 
them down and off. She straddled my kneeling body, pressing her cunt into my face.

“Lick me off, dog girl,” she growled.

I started licking at once, almost instinctively, sticking my tongue into her snatch and 
sliding it up and down. I sucked on her cunt meat and probed against her little fuck opening, 
then screwed my tongue up into it. I found her clit and sucked at it as my tongue flitted up 
and down, and she came, taking only about two minutes to grunt and moan and mash her 
pussy into my face.

She sighed in relief, then reached down and gripped the side of my head. She spread her 
legs a little further, holding her pussy just above my face, then a small stream of piss 
splattered down onto my face.

I gaped in shock, then moaned and tried to twist away. I was too tightly bound and 
chained, though, and piss streamed down onto my face, splattering down onto my chest and 
breasts as she laughed and snickered above me.

She rubbed her snatch against my face as the piss poured out, and then tore my hair 
cruelly, so my mouth opened to scream. Piss poured into it and I sputtered and choked and 
gagged on the acid taste.

She laughed in amusement, then stepped back.

“Since you couldn’t piss I decided to piss on you,” she sniggered.

She went to the wall and got a garden hose, then turned it on full blast and sprayed it 
against me. I cried out in shock, trying to raise my hands to hold off the rough stream as it 
struck my face and hair and breasts and cunt, but the chains restricted my movements.

She soaked me, and then some, laughing as the powerful blast of icy cold water made my 
tits wobble and jerk. She kept shifting the stream, from my face, to my tits, to my cunt, so I 
couldn’t block it.

Then she turned off the water, came over to the tree, unwound the chain and dragged me 
back into the house. She led me into the bathroom and dried me with a towel, then blow 
dried my hair and took me back into the living room. She chained me to the wall and left me 
there.

Twenty minutes later I was the main attraction as Mrs. Harris and half a dozen hard core 
bull dykes watched me turn and crawl and lick and beg and jerk off with dildos. Then I nearly 
wore out my tongue sucking pussy.

Time after time when I went over things like that happened, with people I didn’t even 
know using and abusing me. Only when I was alone with Mr. Harris did I really enjoy myself, 
whether he beat me or not, and started to think about finding someone who took me less for 
granted.

One day at a mall I met this tall man of about thirty who complimented me on a blouse I 
was buying. We sort of joked around in a kind of sexy way, and, well, one thing led to another 
and I let him drive me to his place.

He fucked me for a while, then I asked him to tie me up. His eyes lit up and he tied me 
spreadeagled to the bed, then fucked the crap out of me. Over the next week or two I had him
fuck and sodomize me while tying me in various positions, and even let him spank my ass, and
slap my titties a few times.

He was excited by everything around me, and didn’t treat me like dirt except as part of our
sex play. I started to think about how I could get rid of the Harris’s.

Finally I told Jerry, that was his name, about them, and he, not wanting the competition, 
told me not to worry at all. He said they’d never dare tell my parents, that if they did they 
could both be arrested for fucking around with an underage girl, and contributing to the 
delinquency of a minor.

So I stopped going to the Harris’s, and though they made a few threats, they never carried
them out. I continued to fuck Jerry and let him tie me up and spank me from time to time, and
also found other guys, guys more my own age, who were delighted to engage in a little 
bondage fucking.

Months later I was invited to a charity ball by a close friend that I’d dated a few times. I 
was glad to go, for I’d never been to a formal party before.

I wore a long, tight, flowing gown, green, to set off my hair. It was loose along my legs, but
tight across my ass and hips, hugging my narrow waist. It was low cut, the center plunging 
down between my breasts to show my cleavage. I had almost put Mister and Mrs. Harris out 
of my mind. Or perhaps it would be more truthful to say I wasn’t thinking about them much 
any more.

I was at a party at the Hilton, in the grand ball room. There was an orchestra there, and the
floor was crowded with dancers. I had just danced with Patrick, my date, when I excused 
myself to go to the ladies room.

I was at the makeup counter, checking my lipstick, when a hand came down on my 
shoulder. I gasped and stood up, turning to confront… Mrs. Harris.

I felt a deep, sharp bite of fear deep in my guts as the woman smiled down at me.

“You’re looking lovely tonight, my dear,” she oozed.

“M… Mrs. Ha… Harris,” I gasped.

“Yes, my sweet. I’ve a suite upstairs. Come with me and see my husband and his friends.

“I… no… I mean… I… I can’t…” I stuttered.

“But of course you can’,” she smiled.

She leaned forward, for we were alone in the room, and kissed me on the lips. I hesitated, 
still in fear of her after all these months.

“I… I have a date,” I whined.

“Obey me!” she hissed. “If you’re a bad girl you’ll be beaten!”

I moaned, trying to turn away, but there was someone else in the way, a girl with blonde, 
spiked hair. I blinked in surprise as she sneered at me.

“Hello, dog girl,” she sneered.

My will fled and my hands came down and I stared at them in fear.

“Come, dear,” Mrs. Harris smiled.

“Yes, Mistress,” I whispered, following her out the door.

They led me out along the hall and to the elevators, and I stood quietly between them as 
we waited for one. I didn’t want to go with them. I was terrified of both of them, and wanted 
to flee back into the safety of the crowded ball room, but something kept me still. Something 
made it almost impossible to imagine disobeying Mrs. Harris.

The elevator came and at a word from her I stepped forward and got in. The door closed 
behind us and we were alone. I felt her hand on my buttocks, stroking and squeezing them 
through the thin material of my dress.

“I’ve missed you, my little precious,” she cooed. “You and I have so much catching up to 
do.”

I wanted to scream from the terror her words evoked in me, yet I couldn’t. I wanted to run,
but didn’t. The doors opened, and I stood still, as though I had forgotten to move.

“Come,” she said softly, taking my wrist and leading me forward.

I walked as if in a dream, my eyes unblinking as she led me down the hall and up to the 
door of a suite. She unlocked it and we walked inside.

“Karen, take her into the other room and get her ready.”

“Sure, Aunt Liz,” Karen said.

Mrs. Harris went across to the living room while Karen dragged me across into a bedroom 
and began to tear at my clothes.

“Wa… wa… wait,” I gasped.

“Shut up, slut,” she growled.

“N… no. I… I have to go,” I gulped, trying to go past her and out the door.

She punched me hard in the belly and I collapsed to my knees. She finished getting my 
dress off, then turned me around and bound my wrists behind me with rope.

“Noooo. Let me gooo!” I sobbed.

“Shut up, whore,” she cursed, slapping me.

She picked up a napkin off a nearby table and used it to gag me, then tied my ankles 
together. She lifted me and dropped me onto a chair.

She snickered down at me, eyeing my black bra and panties, garter belt and stockings.

“Aren’t we sexy?” she purred.

She flicked a knife out, then cut my bra loose as I sat there, moaning into the gag.

“You and me can have a little fun while we wait,” she said, stripping off her own dress, then
removing her panties and bra. She straddled the chair, jerked the gag down, then, holding the
knife at my throat, made me lick her off.

She had come once, and I was working on her again, when the door opened and Mrs. 
Harris looked in.

“That’s enough for now, dear, don’t be greedy.”

“Ahh, Aunt Liz,” Karen glared.

“Now, dear.”

Mrs. Harris came in and examined me, smiling.

“Karen, dear. When will you learn, shackles are more effective when they’re on the mind 
than on the body.”

“Huh?”

“Untie her.”

Karen glared, then cut through the ropes binding my wrists and ankles.

Mrs. Harris gripped my arm and pulled me to my feet, then had me pull my dress back on 
and fasten it. She led me out of the bedroom, then up into the living room.

Mister Harris and two other men were there, all in suits, sitting on a couch and talking 
softly. They all turned as Mrs. Harris led me in.

“Look what I found,” she smiled.

“Well, well, well,” Mr. Harris purred, getting to his feet and coming over to me.

I quailed in terror. My mind kept shrieking to run, run, run, but it was mired in a deep, 
swirling fog, seemingly unable to put thought into action. I stared at him as his hand rose and 
stroked the side of my face, then slid around my throat.

“This is one of my former… students,” he said to the other two men as they came up 
beside us.

“Very lovely,” one said.

“Yes, quite,” the other agreed.

“And quite obedient, isn’t that right, Sandra?”

“Yes, Master,” a voice said. It was mine, though I hadn’t meant to speak, hadn’t meant to 
reply. It was as though my mind and body were disconnected.

His fingers closed around my throat, tightened, squeezed, and I couldn’t breath. “Don’t 
move,” he whispered.

My chest burned and my mind flared with pressure and heat and desperate desire, but I 
couldn’t breath. My hands remained at my sides. I stood still before him, staring into his eyes 
as his hand squeezed my throat. My skin flushed, turning red, then white as my vision began 
to go hazy.

I made no effort to pull free, no effort to defend myself. I didn’t strike at him or at his 
hand, didn’t try to twist away or kick him or beg him to release me. I stood there unmoving as 
he choked the life out of me, and the other three watched.

Then my legs got rubbery as my mind began to black out. He released his hold on my 
throat and I sucked in air as I sank semi-conscious to my knees. I gulped in air in harsh, deep 
gasps, sobbing from the pain in my tortured lungs.

“Shall I show you what my program can accomplish, gentlemen?” I heard Mister Harris ask.

“I’m already impressed,” one of the men said.

“She’s not even a graduate,” Harris said. “She was just a part-time student, and we haven’t 
seen her in months. Still… Stand up, Sandra!” he snapped.

“Arch your back.”

“Yes, Master.”

“I don’t want to hear a word from you, Sandra, not a word, not a sound, not a whimper, 
not a cry. Is that clear?”

“Ye… yes, Master,” I gulped.

There was a tremble in my voice as I saw the cane, for inside I was terrified. I should have 
been running or fighting, or, if unable to move, screaming and howling and begging him. No! 
No! NO!

Instead I stood there, hands out to either side, my body still, face fearful. Mister Harris 
raised the thin cane high above his head and held it there briefly, then slashed it down and 
cracked it against my right breast with all his strength.

Fire tore through my body and agony clawed at my mind. Raw, horrifyingly powerful blasts
of boiling pain cramped my guts and made me want to howl and scream and shriek.

But I didn’t move. My face showed no expression. I made no sound, showed no response, 
as… as… as I had… been trained… somehow… some time… before.

“Quite impressive,” a voice said.

“You should see them after the full treatment.”

I trembled and whimpered, then gasped as a hand gripped my hair and pulled me to my 
feet. It was Mrs. Harris, smiling as she forced my head up and back.

“Strip, Sandra,” she demanded.

My hands instantly pulled my dress off and I stood before them all with nothing on. My 
breasts ached from the lashing.

“Turn around; bend over,” she said to me.

I did, and once again I felt the cane ripping across my buttocks. Then, when the whipping 
had ended, one cock after the next slid into my hole, taking full advantaged of me.

Then Mr. Harris fucked my asshole. Hard.

When he was done, he said, “Send this dog back where it came from. It’s served its 
purpose.

I dressed in a daze, and went looking for Patrick.

<<< IMAGE 8 >>>


THE END
