by Syra Bond
Title Page
TRUE CONFESSIONS III
By
Syra Bond
Publisher Information
True Confessions III
Published in 2013 by Silver Moon Limited
Digital Conversion by Andrews UK Limited
www.andrewsuk.com
This book is sold subject to the condition that it shall not, by way of trade or otherwise, be lent, resold, hired out or otherwise circulated without the publisher’s prior written consent in any form of binding or cover other than that in which it is published, and without a similar condition being imposed on the subsequent purchaser.
Copyright © Syra Bond
The right of Syra Bond to be identified as author of this book has been asserted in accordance with section 77 and 78 of the Copyrights Designs and Patents Act 1988.
WAKING FROM A DREAM
I heard a crack - a sharp, sudden snapping sound; like the smack of a wet leather strap being pulled taut by an impatient master. The harsh slap caused a shock deep inside my body, and the thought of the punishment which might come with it sent a shiver of fear across my trembling skin. I started to breathe in but suddenly, as though I had received an electric shock, I was thrown into a convulsive twisting paroxysm. All my muscles tightened in a painful cramping spasm. My thighs squeezed together and I felt moisture on the soft lips of my crack as they were squashed at the tops of my thighs by the unexpected tension. The flesh of my cunt tingled and, as the spasm relaxed, I tightened my buttocks in response to the warm slippery wetness of my flesh. I felt dizzy and confused. My anus ached as though a finger were probing it. I shuddered and opened my eyes wide.
The cracking noise again - but it was more than a noise; it seemed to smack me across the face. I felt as though the strap was being brought down across my cheeks - commanding me to be silent, forbidding me to move, demanding that I wait for instruction. I flinched and was filled with uncontrollable anxiety. My eyes darted from side to side.
I looked around frantically. I expected to see someone holding a broad leather belt, standing above me, telling me the reason for my punishment - ‘this for not bending over quick enough’, ‘this for not crawling fast enough’, ‘this for not screaming loud enough’. I tightened my buttocks more. It felt as if the finger in my anus was pushing in as deep as it could go - right up to the knuckle. I trembled with excitement. I looked around anxiously for my punisher. Why couldn’t I see him? If only I could see him I would know I wasn’t going mad. I twisted my body and felt tightness around my wrists and ankles. Another cracking slap filled my ears and I tightened my buttocks even more.
Unexpectedly, from nowhere, images flashed into my mind. It was as though I had been set on fire from inside - as though my brain was exploding. Fireworks lit up in my head. They sparked behind my eyes - massive blinding bursts of light deep inside my head, dazzling and painful, confusing and terrifying. Nothing was right. The things I was feeling were not borne out by what I could see. The things I was feeling were not corroborated by the world as it seemed. I felt a sudden wave of deep anxiety. I must be going mad! Or perhaps this is what it’s like to be dead?
I tried to cling onto whatever sanity I had left. I bit onto my lips and breathed hard, trying to increase the level of pain in my body, trying to bring myself back to whatever reality might be.
I saw a picture in my mind. I was in a thin walled bedroom - small, decorated with pink and mauve flowers, everything added piecemeal over the years. An ill-fitting radiator with rusty, leaking edges sat loosely on the floor. Above it, a dark yellow hairdryer hung askew on the beer stained wall. A whirring air conditioner was wedged clumsily into a roughly made opening in the mouldy drywall lining. A tall window opened onto a square courtyard of the motel’s flimsy, dilapidated rooms. Beyond them, desert scrubland and a small hill with “DV” inscribed with rocks on its side. A massive red ice machine groaned loudly outside. Its glossily painted surface was bright and glaring as though it had recently been washed of the dust which covered everything around it. I could smell the dryness of the desert - it mixed with the mustiness of the claustrophobic room and stuffed my nostrils.
Another jolt hit me. It came from nowhere. I felt as if I had been knocked to the other side of the bedroom by a massive hand. I gasped and felt myself lying crookedly in front of the rusty radiator. I heard the yelping howl of a girl - in ecstasy or pain, I could not tell - rhythmic, building, louder, then dropping back, groaning, and pausing before building again into a frantic crescendo. It reverberated in the enclosed rectangle of buildings outside the window - echoing in the still desert air that rose dryly with the heat of the day from the miserable, untidy courtyard. I was entranced by it - captivated by images of what was causing her pain, of what was creating her pleasure.
The howling became thinner, louder. It turned into a scream - a piercing, ear splitting screech. It echoed in my head - confusing me, sending me into a mixed up bewilderment. I felt drenched by it - as though it had been poured all over me. No, I could not tell whether it was a final outburst of ecstasy, or the relief of insufferable pain - it was such a terrifying, long drawn out screech. I felt the hairs rising on my neck. A cold shiver ran down my spine and my lips trembled uncontrollably.
I felt myself sweating. It dripped from my forehead and into my eyes. The saltiness stung and made me squint.
Again, I heard the screaming girl. I realised the sound was more than just pleasure or pain. Her cries were full of longing - a mixture of waiting and anticipation - as if there would be an end to it all. Yes, it was pain - I could tell that - but there was something else in it - horror, loneliness, fear. Yes, fear, above all there was fear.
I breathed in deeply. I tasted something acrid in the air. A wave of nausea welled up into my throat - it was the pungent smell of burning flesh. I gagged on it. Burning flesh! How did I even know that’s what the smell was?
The sun caught the shiny top of the bulky ice machine. I blinked as the piercing rays that radiated from it struck my eyes. It was all I could see - bright white light. My world was filled with its dazzling brightness. I tried to lift my hand to my head, but it was impossible - I couldn’t move. Why couldn’t I move? A wave of panic spread over me. I started gasping with fear.
I heard voices, whispering voices - a man and a woman.
‘It’s for the good of all of us,’ said the man.
‘Yes, yes,’ replied the woman with the tone of a conspirator.
I drew in breath heavily - trying to calm myself, trying to slow my rapidly beating heart.
The light in my head faded. I felt cold - icy cold. I shivered and tried to lift my head to see.
It was like waking from a terrible dream. I was dizzy and disoriented. The world spun around me. I thought I was going to vomit.
Slowly, I began to see where I was, but I couldn’t believe it. I was lying, strapped by leather belts at my ankles and wrists, to a cold plastic covered couch. Bright white lights were shining down on me - bare bulbs in swinging green lampshades hypnotising me with their rhythmic urgency. I was naked, my legs were pulled wide, my cunt was exposed and slightly parted by the strain. My mouth was filled with a gag made of a filthy screwed up rag. It was taped tightly in place with wide silver tape. I breathed heavily through my wide nostrils. I smelled the rag and the adhesive plastic scent of the tape. My tongue was pressed against the dirty, plugging rag. I tasted oil as the balled up material sucked the moisture from the surface of my tongue. I felt a fresh wave of nausea. I heaved and went cold and sweaty as the vomit rose up and burnt my throat. If I was waking from a dream, I was waking into a world worse than any I had ever dreamt of.
My stomach
, already churning with fear, filled with a biting nervousness as I heard the sound of approaching footsteps. I squirmed against my bonds and felt the shiny plastic couch against my back, shoulders and buttocks.
How had I come to be here? What had happened to me? What was happening to me? I struggled to remember but nothing came. I squinted up my eyes tightly as if this would help me recall. The metal lampshades swung wildly. I stared at them, terrified. What was making them swing? It was as though I was at the centre of an earthquake! The couch on which I was strapped was shaking. I could feel it jolting beneath me. I could feel the banging of the legs on the ground. I bit hard onto the oily rag in my mouth. I was freezing cold. My breathing was noisy and heavy as I strained to open my nostrils enough to get the air I needed. My breath condensed into a misty cloud around my mouth. The air around me was freezing cold. Now, my eyes were wide open, unblinking, terrified - I could not keep them closed for a second. The couch shook violently. I thought I would be thrown over and crushed by its heavy frame. I tensed my arms and legs to try and absorb the wild shaking.
I heard footsteps but then they stopped. I looked from side to side - there was no one to be seen. The couch rose up and, with one final jarring bang, on the ground, everything went still and silent.
I heard the voices again - low, whispering, secretive. They were getting closer. I thought my breath would freeze and block my nostrils with chunks of ice. I thought my staring eyes would freeze over
Suddenly, they appeared - the possessors of the voices - the woman, dressed as a nurse, the man wearing a white lab coat. They looked at each other, as if assuring each other of their agreed intention, then stepped forward.
I craned my neck to look at them. My lower jaw was forced harder against the dirty rag and again I felt the heave of acrid vomit in my throat. I tried to suppress it by swallowing but still I began to retch. Another flood of cold sweat spread across me as the fear of vomiting against the plug in my mouth filled me with horror. I imagined myself choking, unable to breathe, coughing with vomit streaming down my nose. Tears ran from my eyes and flowed down my reddened cheeks.
I fought to swallow and hold back the welling vomit.
The woman stepped forward and stared down at me. Her eyes were green and her pupils - dilated wide - were not black but translucent. Looking into them was like looking into her head, as though they were windows into the grey misty clouds of her mind.
She reached towards me. I held my breath, not knowing what to expect. Her talon-like red-painted nails hung above my face. I imagined they were spiders waiting to drop on me and crawl across my skin. I winced.
Inquisitively, she turned her head at an angle. Her mop of red hair - pulled back tight from her forehead - spewed out beneath her white cap which was tightly fixed with a silver pin on each side. Her eyebrows were thin red lines, and her cheeks, sunken beneath high cheekbones, drew my eyes to her lips, painted in a glossy red sheen to match her nails.
I stared up at her petrified.
She wriggled her long fingers. It was as though they had a mind of their own.
Suddenly, the man’s face appeared beside hers. He was older - greying at the temples, tanned and square jawed. He wore a white shirt and a carefully knotted dark red tie. His lab coat was buttoned up neatly; a pen was clipped inside the top pocket. A stethoscope hung from his neck, its long red rubber tubing reaching down to join the flat, rubber cushioned chest piece that dangled just above my nose. He nodded as though he was listening to someone giving an opinion with which he agreed. The end of the stethoscope rocked hypnotically above me. I felt so cold. What was happening?
I struggled again, pulling hard at my strapped wrists and ankles.
They both ignored my desperation.
‘Pretty picture to be sure,’ the man said. ‘Let me see.’
I waited for his touch. I saw him reaching down between my legs, reaching towards my exposed cunt. Suddenly I thought of its nakedness - its smooth soft surface, the neatness of its crack, the slightly darker pink of its moist centre. I felt a sensation of its wetness. I knew he would see it. A ridiculous embarrassment flushed over me and I felt my cheeks and forehead redden. For a moment, I quivered with excitement at the anticipation of his touch. I imagined biting my lips as I waited for the excitement that his fingertips would bring. Then, as though I had been slapped in an effort to bring me around from a faint, I was jolted back into reality - again I realised my horrifying situation, felt the taste of vomit in the back of my throat, and the painful confinement of my tightly binding bonds.
He did not touch me. I strained my neck to see what he was doing. With the back of my neck aching and my arms tight and trembling I could see him glaring between my wide open legs. His stethoscope still swung from his neck, almost but not quite touching the insides of my thighs. I felt totally exposed, unable to protect or cover myself in any way - splayed out, victim to his desire, completely under his control.
He nodded thoughtfully.
‘Nurse! Nurse Roslin!’
I repeated her name in my mind, as if knowing it would somehow help me. ‘Nurse Roslin, Nurse Roslin’ I repeated, hoping that she was here to help me.
‘Dr Collins?’ she asked as she came up alongside him.
‘An interesting specimen, this one. Look how carefully her pubic hair has been removed - there is not a trace of it. And look at her skin, it is like satin. A beautiful cunt, don’t you think? Perfectly formed.’
I felt the vomit again in the back of my throat.
‘Look how she strains, Doctor. She must have a terrible madness within.’
‘Yes, as bad as any I have seen. But it fights to get out. There is hope for her. If only we can remove the evil in time, she might be saved.’
Nurse Roslin nodded and then giggled.
‘Doctor! Look how wet she is. Look at her cunt. She is excited. She is enjoying her confinement.’
‘Perhaps she is enjoying our gaze?’
Nurse Roslin licked her lips then let her tongue hang out between them. It was pink and fleshy and extended easily. She curled the end of it and it glistened with spit.
‘Perhaps she would enjoy something to gaze upon?’
Nurse Roslin drew back her tongue, twisted her neck in a long slow stretch, and beamed broadly. Her white teeth glittered like pearls.
Slowly, she began to undo the front of her tunic. The buttons were tight in the starched and pressed buttonholes and she had to work each one of them free carefully. I watched her red fingernails, like needles, expertly working around the shiny edges of the white buttons as, one by one, they were released. I envied the freedom she gave them. All the time, she looked down, watching what she was doing, enjoying the slow revelation of what was beneath her uniform.
The top edges of her bra came into view - lacy and delicate, close-pressed from beneath by her firm breasts. She sighed and they heaved, as if desperate to escape.
I shook my head from side to side, whining stupidly, fighting against my bonds and now my increasing excitement. It was spreading over me like an embarrassing flush of uncontrollable heat. I tried to fight it back, biting onto the dirty rag in my mouth, hoping its revolting taste would stave off my growing joy.
Another waft of freezing air blew against my face, but it did nothing to cool my heat.
With the next button she revealed the bra completely. She pressed forward her breasts, still looking down at them, admiring them, absorbing their beauty. The light pink lacy material was tightly pulled but her hard nipples still pressed against them enough to stand out dark and proud.
She continued with the buttons. As the last one came free she pulled the tunic off her shoulders and dropped it to the ground. It fell behind the high heels of her black leather shoes.
I struggled for a moment but I no longer knew why. I felt a delightful cooling sensation along the
crack of my cunt as fresh moisture spread across its soft lips. I raised my hips enough to allow my cunt to open more and the cooling slit widened.
Nurse Roslin unclipped a small hook and eye in the side of her skirt then slid down the zip that started below it. The skirt dropped to the floor and fell around her ankles. Her panties matched her bra - pale pink, lacy and tight. The flesh of her cunt was pulled up inside the material that clung closely against it and highlighted its delectable, fleshy shape. The slit at its centre was revealed as a dark line in the gusset. She had no pubic hair and I could see clearly where the slit of her cunt was pinched together at the front.
I shook my head again and heard the undertone of a moan in my whining, snorting exhalations.
She stepped out of her skirt. She stood for a moment, like a goddess, looking upwards, as if imaging her home in heaven. She removed her neatly pinned hat and tossed her flame red hair in her hands - it was as if she had stolen fire from the gods.
She moved forward and came alongside me. I twisted my neck as much as possible. Pains shot into my shoulders and the extra tension on my throat made me choke. She passed close to me. Her red fingernails glanced along the edge of the plastic covered couch. I shivered with cold as she sashayed by - gliding, as if she was floating above the ground.
I dropped my head back - trying to follow her was too much of a strain. I knew she was standing behind me, looking at my exposed body - analysing it, inspecting it. I felt dribbling spit squeezing out through the wide-stretched corners of my plugged mouth. I realised I could no longer see her companion - Dr Collins. Confused at his sudden disappearance, and without moving my head, I looked quickly from side to side. I felt like a maniac - my eyes wide and staring, filled with panic, mixed up, confused and disorientated.
Suddenly her face was above mine, looking down at me, her opaque eyes like misty clouds, dreamily looking into my mind. She opened her mouth and bared her beautiful white teeth. I saw her fleshy tongue, lapping behind her lower teeth, glistening with spit, like a captured animal behind bone bars.