While she knew it was ridiculous to think that she could earn his compassion, she clung to the possibility nonetheless.
During one of these three days, she couldn’t quite remember which one, there was a table brought into her cell on which she was lifted and laid down on her back. The event was jarring; her sore body ached in response to the touch of brutal men. A flashback to the gang rape filled her with fear and then with a verboten feeling of desire that she pushed away with all the strength she could muster.
While two guards held her knees open, a third slapped a hot towel against her crotch. The three waited several minutes, speaking to each other casually in a foreign tongue she did not recognize. Finally, with their attention back on her, the towel was removed and her pussy hair was lathered with a smelly cream. Finally, a straight razor began a harrowing journey to rid her of every bit of pubic hair from between her legs. She was surprised by the efficiency of her barber. He worked quickly with skillful strokes, with what was obviously a very sharp blade. Shelby had trimmed and shaved herself just days ago at home, but the stubble was already growing long. Apparently, Jessup required that she be shorn of every speck of pubic hair, since that was the result.
After the three men were gone, and Shelby was back on the cell floor, she pressed her hand to her pussy and found it so smooth to the touch that she couldn’t stop herself from playing with the sensitive furrow. Her mind retreated to the awful scene of torture, the memories coming at her relentlessly, despite attempts to steer her thoughts to better times and better men. So savagely pent-up, it took little more than a minute to release, to feel pleasure from the memory of pain. She would rather have not needed the release, but once it was over she felt much better and rested more easily in her semi-conscious stupor.
When Jessup came to her cell again, he dragged two chairs and a table into the room, aided by another one of the guards, although none of the guards stayed. The session would be just the two of them again. Jessup’s sadism; Shelby’s unwilling compliance.
The one chair was a standard slat back in which Jessup would sit, the other was much the same, though it had been fitted with straps and eyebolts for immobilizing her in bondage.
“I can’t have you moving, Shelby,” he said, revealing a quirky sort of kindness. And what was this: already he’d started to use her first name? Was this to promote intimacy, suggest some kind of camaraderie in the proceedings? Only a mind twisted like Shelby’s might think something so strange. Was this to move her into giving up the information he wanted so badly? The information she did not have? She sensed that men like Jessup would use any means to get what they wanted, including what sounded like genuine kindness.
Again efficient, again with an air of stern command, Jessup roped her to the chair, hands behind it, thick smelly hemp circling her naked torso and pulling up tight so that she was utterly fixed against the slats of the chair. The ropes lifted her breasts from below and squashed them down from above, which put them into a painful bondage, leaving her nipples sticking out red and engorged with blood. When he got to her legs, he opened them wide apart and tied them off to the outside of the chair legs so that her pussy was splayed wide and her sex lips were available for what Shelby could only envision as more torture. The fact that her pussy had been shaved made sense now, given what she expected to happen. Although it was still not all that available for him to torture – long as her cheeks were firmly planted on the chair seat. She had yet to imagine how the man would torture her this time.
With an officious air, Jessup opened up a black valise, although with its lid upright and facing her, Shelby could not see what was inside. Her fear naturally expanded under the spell of this mystery.
“Whatever you plan to do will not change a thing. I swear to you, I know nothing about that disk. Torture me all you like, I have nothing to tell you. Please, sir, a little pity…” She rushed on more anxious by the minute. An overwhelming sensation of panic had begun to work its way through her psyche, produced by a sudden feeling of claustrophobia.
Jessup appraised her with a thoughtful stare; though the man was remote and purposefully guarded, his energy commanded the room and the quivering Shelby. She could not bear to look away. “Sorry, Shelby Ryan, you have me nearly convinced. But it really doesn’t matter what you say or don’t say. I’m beyond asking you questions, or gleaning information. I’m here to do as I’ve been ordered. Yes, I do answer to those above me in this chain of command. They told me to press the case with you, take all measures at my disposal to make you talk. So, whether you talk or not is really of no interest to me. I do this because I can, because it’s my job, because I’m a sadistic bastard who enjoys causing beautiful females to suffer.”
“You can’t! You can’t be that evil!”
“Evil? Now that does amuse me. You call me evil.” He laughed. “I’ll see if I can live up to that description.”
He pulled out needles and Shelby shrunk back, if not literally, then figuratively. Within minutes, her breasts looked like pincushions with needles poked through the soft flesh, and others shoved through her nipples. Each time he grabbed her breast to forcefully jab a needle into her flesh, the shock stunned her overwrought nerves. She panted heavily, breathing through each burst of pain, clenching teeth and sobbing softly. However, once the pain subsided she was left with the aftereffect of her rising endorphins and a sweet bath of pleasure moving through her.
Her eyes were half closed, her mind in a drunken stupor. Taking a deep breath, she smelled Jessup’s rising pheromones, his feral male essence. The taste of desire on her tongue could not be ignored. Though multiple piercings like this were new to her, other events in her past had taught her how to handle sessions of extreme pain, when one level of torment was only exceeded by the next.
However, whatever pleasure or joy or sexual satisfaction she might have felt as a result of the torture, she could not let Jessup know that she experienced anything other than physical agony. If he sensed the truth on his own, then that was her bad luck. But to hedge her bet, she made herself cry out, forced her face into a twisted grimace and begged for his mercy. Every response was carefully calculated now.
Had the pain made her so sane, so clear thinking? Strange as it seemed, for the first time in days her mind was crystal clear and her outward response to the piercing was purposefully scripted. She prayed that Jessup would be clueless about her plan and maybe he was, since he moved almost mindlessly through his ritual, apparently getting buzzed every time he plunged another needle into her flesh.
He said nothing. He barely looked her in the eye.
Shelby couldn’t bear to look at her aching breasts. Even the smallest touch of his fingers produced a vibration enough to send a new river of pain shooting through her fried nerves.
The way he stood back and viewed his handiwork, Shelby thought he was done. She breathed deeply and hung on, determined to remain unruffled until the ordeal was over.
“I’m impressed by your calm, Shelby. Makes one wonder if you’ve done this before. Let’s see how you suffer through the rest.”
When he came back to her again with another needle, he crouched in front of her crotch, lifted her outer labia from the chair and abruptly jabbed needle through the plump skin.
She gasped deeply, finding the level of pain in this new location more difficult to control. It was good that she couldn’t move, the ropes might have saved her a lot more pain.
The second needle through the other labia hurt just as much as the first, and her tolerance for pain was rapidly waning. A third needle placed just above the first and panic struck. She was about to lose it all. Never had she suffered so and her cry came roaring out…
“Pluuuuhleeeassssssssssss. Please stop!” Her head shook back and forth while Jessup speared her labia one more time, then he stood above her and watched the torture play out across her face.
“You’ll be glad to know that I’m not going to lay you on the rack and fuck you. Although the idea of it is d
amned appealing, the logistics could get a little messy. I’m not allowed to damage you further. I think the company wants to ensure your further usefulness. But perhaps next time, I’ll just forget about what the company wants. I’ll string you up by your piercings. Give the boys a show. Oh, what a find you’ve been, Shelby Ryan, a damn fine masochist!”
If she weren’t in so much pain she would have spit in his face. But the unabated sensations from the piercings made her desire to fight him fall away. To beg now would only encourage his lust for control. So, stoic and angry, her body venting sexual pheromones, she waited, trying to calm herself with measured breaths.
He watched her carefully through the next sixty seconds, brow furrowed, eyes in wonder. Shelby could feel the pulse in his crotch. Perhaps more painful than the physical torture was knowing that she wanted that cock between in her lips, or in pussy, or even in her ass.
One by one the needles were removed. More pain rifled through her body. More shooting stars behind her lids. More angry endorphins surfacing. More raw and grating discomfort deep inside her belly where even this turned sexual.
Jessup massaged her breasts when they were free of the needles and she moaned, her aroused body needed badly to come.
“You are quite a challenge, Shelby. Makes me look forward to our next session.”
Then he called to someone outside the cell and promptly three men entered, assisting as the ropes were untied and she was laid over the edge of the table. One by one, her pussy was taken. Two of the men fingered her asshole until she was sure that she’d be taken there too. But then they all slunk off after they spent themselves. Just Jessup and Shelby to pick up the pieces.
“Why don’t you fuck me too?” she blurted out spitefully when he made no move to take her.
“I’ll bet you’d like that, wouldn’t you? You pride yourself on being desirable. All females do. But just because my job is to make women like you suffer doesn’t mean that I want to use you too. There are other women for that sort of job.”
***
She was draped over his desk, his juices still dripping from her pussy. She had come, her body having experienced another almost frightening climax. Even now, her belly felt the fluttering post-sex spasms. Every nerve in her had been awakened so that even a faint draft of air across her exposed pussy continued to arouse her. She heard the familiar sounds of him stuffing his cock back inside his trousers and she was about to rise.
“Stay where you are!” he barked the command, and so she nervously clung to the desk, while he moved in closer to her and began smacking her ass with his hand. A frightful sting began to rise on her bottom. She strained to get away, but he held her down with his left hand firmly at her waist. When he finished with his hand, he picked up a wooden ruler from his desk and smacked her with that; the pain intensified. She had to bite her lip to keep from crying out.
She thought it was finally over when he stopped and moved around to the front of this desk. But he was only there to retrieve a wooden paddle from his desk drawer.
“Oh, sir, please!” she wailed.
“You’ve kept quiet so far, Shelby, you keep that up and I won’t be too hard on you.”
“Oh, but sir!” she cried, pouring out all the anguish she felt despite his instructions.
Smack! the paddle came down against her ass and from that moment her plaintive cries turned into sobs. Firm, measured strokes followed, as if she was being righteously punished for some mistake, some fault. She wracked her brain to understand, but the agony became too great to even think. However, just when she thought he’d never let up, he paused for a moment to massage her burning ass cheeks with his hand, in the process bringing on an unexpected degree of arousal – something almost violently passionate. Pleasure poured down through her body, taking hold in a remarkably short time. Even when he began again with the paddle, the sensuous feelings did not abate. She ground her hips wantingly into the edge of the desk, knowing that another climax was just moments away. If he’d stopped to massage her ass again she would have exploded. But Mr. Darcy must have known her urgent desire because the paddle continued to rain down blows against her bottom until the scorching sting became too much to bear. “No! No!, please, sir please!” she screeched. “Nonononono…” she stomped her feet in anger.
All thoughts of pleasure had retreated, hiding in wait for another merciful reprieve.
But as he ignored her escalating cries for mercy, she warred inside herself. To run would be catastrophic – she imagined his fury yanking her back to face more pain. And yet to stay and suffer as she was seemed just as impossible with each succeeding smack. About to make a rash bolt for the door, he suddenly stopped and pressed his hand to her crotch, working his fingers into her pussy and rubbing her hard against her clit. Her body instantly grabbed back the erotic fervor from earlier in the session, her mind screaming for joy as the pleasure washed through her again. Oh, yes, yes yes! her silent cry.
Suddenly, he withdrew his hand and shot off a new command. “Stand up!”
“Sir?” Almost lost to a powerful orgasm, she whimpered hearing the abrupt order.
“You heard me, Shelby!”
She straightened and turned around with her entire body venting lust. She sensed the urgency of his own arousal reaching out to her, making her want to drop to her knees before him and take his cock inside her mouth, but she was not that bold. He turned the moment back on her with his next order:
“I want to see you get off with your own fingers.”
Had she been able to see her face, she would have seen it drain of color first, then turn bright red seconds later.
“Oh, I couldn’t!” she immediately reacted, while any erotic feelings rapidly dwindled away.
“Of course, you can.” He stepped back further, sitting down in an easy chair in the corner of his office where he waited for her to respond. For a long time she stared at him in shocked silence.
“But, Mr. Darcy, you have a meeting now!” she finally blurted out.
“Do I?” he glanced at his watch. “Ah. I almost forgot. All the better. Go on and let Mr. Jones in. I’m sure he’d like to see this too.”
“Oh, no, Mr. Darcy, I couldn’t do that. I couldn’t, I swear.” She’d been holding up her skirt and immediately pushed it down to cover her privates and restore some dignity – scant as it was, considering that her sex juices were making an embarrassing trip down her inner thigh.
“I’m surprised, Shelby,” his voice turned grave and filled with disappointment. “I would have thought by now that you’d know the price of defying me. This is not for you to think about, for you to decide if you’ll obey. You do as you’re told. That has been our agreement from the start of your employment, and it is certainly not going to change because I demand something of you that may initially be difficult. If you wish to remain employed here, if you wish our relationship to continue, you’ll follow my orders regardless of the embarrassment or pain they may cause you. Now be a good girl and raise your skirt just as it was before, go to the door and show Mr. Jones inside.”
Shelby trembled before the man she’d grown to adore, uncertain and questioning. She hesitated much too long for a woman who’d been trained to react immediately. However this time, the man seemed content to wait out her few moments of indecision. Finally, there seemed to be nothing else that she could do. Although the blush across her face was real and filled with shame, she managed to raise her skirt again, move toward the office door and after furtively peeking into the outer office, call to Mr. Jones who was waiting for his appointment with her employer.
Mr. Jones was as handsome as Mr. Darcy was hard and rugged. At first, he seemed surprised to find her, the office secretary, exposing herself so blatantly. But that surprise was short-lived. In fact, he seemed hardly shocked at all when he finally nodded pleasantly to Shelby, completely ignoring the fact that she was shaking in her shoes with embarrassment and fright.
“That’s a nice red ass she has,” he commented to
Darcy, after giving her a good long stare. The handsome Jones then moved into the office and shook hands with her employer. “So can I assume that your secretary has been getting a little necessary discipline?” he asked.
“She’s assuming the role of my sex slave.”
Shelby whipped around in shock at the words used in reference to her. “Sir?” Again her body seemed to drain of energy. She could barely speak, her small voice sounded frail.
“What, dear? Is it so repugnant to think of yourself as a slave to me? It’s what you have become. It’s what I’ve mentioned to you many times. Three short months in my employ and certainly you have become as compliant as any man’s bound slave. I think it’s time that we get the formality of the arrangement handled.”
She had been forewarned, not once but many times that something this extreme was clearly in his mind. After that first time in his office, he had sex with her nearly every day over the edge of his desk, his cock taking pleasure in what he described as the ‘unsullied innocence of her spirit and her untried body’. He seemed almost smitten with her. He called her charming – the kind of talk that made her blush. While he enjoyed her coy charms and the velvety tightness of her awakening sex, she learned lessons in submission and physical surrender to the superior male.
But Shelby had mixed emotions about the abrupt turn her life had taken – after all, she was only nineteen! Although she had few serious expectations for her life, she did have dreams: the charming prince, the virile lover, the handsome suitor. But none of her imaginings made her the love slave to a much older man. Her employer simply slipped himself into her life without giving her a choice, and there was no saying no to the powerful Mr. Darcy.
Puppet On A String Page 4