"Since I have a very special surprise for you after we are through, I am going to use a little more lube than usual. Of course," he spread her cheeks wide and began to coax his gloved finger into her winking hole, "that might make it easier to push out the nozzle. We don't want that, do we?"
Emma shook her head, whimpers of fear trembling in her throat. She knew where this was going. "To prevent any accidents, I'm going to take your plug size up a step. If you work with me, rather than against me, we will have it snug and sound inside you in no time! Remember," he said, as he added a second finger, then a third, in her tender hole, "you can cry and carry on, but when I say enough, you are to stop."
The tip of the plug pressed against her bottom hole almost immediately. She groaned, for his idea of additional lube was clearly not hers. She could feel that it had only been slicked slightly, preventing her from acquiring a 'sloppy bottom'. Try as she might to relax and allow the forceful invader admittance inside of her, the stretching required for this new plug was beyond her present capabilities.
He maintained a steady pressure with one hand while spreading her cheeks and trying to work her resistant sphincter around the plug's girth. Her crying increased as he forced her wider, pressing harder, and yet careful so as not to tear her. She began to scream, ignoring his orders for silence as she was being driven beyond the point of being able to control herself.
"Your lack of gratitude hurts me, Emma. I was trying to take this slowly, but you had to challenge me," he scolded, firmly pushing the device past her resistance and lodging it completely inside her. Discipline was as immediate as he could possibly make it, and as harsh. He folded the stiff tubing from the bag in half and raised his arm. Deep, red stripes were laid down over a chronically discolored backside, slashing mercilessly until his arm grew weary. He finished off with a couple of dozen strokes of the wooden hairbrush, imprinting his displeasure with her behavior in her heart as severely as the brush did its oval brands upon her posterior.
He gave Emma no time to recover from her uncontrollable weeping before he rearranged the hose, attached it to the plug, and opened the stopcock to full position. Her tummy seized immediately as the warm, soapy solution flowed rapidly deep into her intestines; her high pitched squealing earning her another barrage of smacks from the wooden hairbrush. Covered with a fine layer of perspiration and panting from exhaustion, she finally surrendered and collapsed limply onto his thighs.
"Now, see how easy this was? Certainly not worth the fuss you made. We'll just sit here for a few minutes and let this nice little indoor bath get you all fresh and rosy. Hush now so we can enjoy this quiet time together." He gently fondled her roasted cheeks, pinching her every now and again to ensure she hadn't fallen asleep. The loud rumbling of her stomach was audible, and he silenced her whimpers by forcing her legs apart and settling the pad of his finger over her clit.
He stretched out his massive left leg that was beneath her and lowered her head until it nearly touched the ground, leaving her backside perched high in the air. He pried her stiffly held legs wide apart and inserted his left hand between them. In a firm voice, he ordered, "Open. And I mean wide. Spread eagled."
Sniffling at the added humiliation, Emma numbly spread her legs as wide as she could without tumbling off him, making it nearly impossible to clamp down upon the oversized plug that was set firmly in her rear. She began to whimper yet again as she let her heels fall apart and splayed herself for his unobstructed viewing pleasure.
Viewing was not what he had in mind at that moment. He probed between her completely bare lips—that he had waxed while she'd been sedated. She tried to distract herself from his fondling with ponderings as to why he would not put her through the pain and humiliation of something like that when other things, like anal play, were conducted when she was awake and alert. The distraction failed miserably when he came up with a finger full of what he considered to be evidence that her body was completely on his side.
"I don't understand why you continue to resist me. See this?" he showed her the glistening sheen covering his thick fingers. "Your body loves what I do with it. Pretty soon, your mind will accept the inevitable as well. Mark my words."
As the unbearable pressure mounted within her, those knowing fingers manipulated her body, giving her little nub a very slow, thorough going over before he moved his hand up just a bit and let two fingers rest at her entrance. She held her breath in anticipation and fear. He had never hurt her with his invasion. In fact, as his fingers pressed inexorably up inside her, crowding the plug in her bottom and adding pressure to the contents from the enema swirling within, she couldn't suppress the guttural groan that was torn from her throat. It reeked of pure pleasure.
He knew how to touch her. She hated him, and herself, for the fact that she loved the sensations he could elicit from her rebellious body. As her moan died a slow, echoing death in the small, barren bathroom, she heard him growl low in his throat. "Mmm. I like the sound of that. Let's see what more we can get."
Slowly, very slowly, he began to work those fingers in and out of her, twisting them and crossing them to stretch her wide, gradually breaking through her natural barrier. He grew more insistent after he penetrated her, and slowly pumped in and out, removing them completely before forcing them up inside of her again. All her focus was turned from the pressure within her bottom and tummy, to the pressure building in her pussy as her body overruled her senses. She could feel herself creaming around him, and desperately wanted to bury her head in shame at the longer, even more animalistic moans that bubbled to the surface and out. Like the immeasurable hours of torture that he forced her to submit to, Emma reached the humiliating realization that he drove her past her ability to resist him. She wanted more.
In his truly sadistic nature, he brought her no release. After a good long while of fondling and finger fucking her, he methodically brought her to the brink and left her hanging in aching need. Like a parched desert traveler facing a mirage of a cold pond, her body and emotions collapsed in defeat when she realized that this was the worse torture of all—the knowledge that her release lay in the fingertips of a psychopath who refused to allow her pleasure.
"Now that you are all primed for your special surprise, let's clear you out," Jack announced, abruptly removing the plug from her burning sphincter after sitting her upon the toilet. "Don't you spill a drop, young lady. I mean it. You don't let go until I say so."
Holding the liquid after her muscles had been stretched was impossible, and she looked at him pathetically as the contents of her intestines were released. He shook his head.
"That was very naughty of you," he tsked. "You are lucky I am feeling generous today. Let's try this two more times and then I can show you the surprise…"
CHAPTER SIX
By the time Jack completed the final enema and bathed her, Emma was exhausted. He left her naked as he carried her into the kitchen for breakfast and set her in the highchair atop an open diaper 'just in case'. She was ravenously hungry and quickly drank the bottle he offered. As a reward, he spooned fresh apple sauce into her mouth, smiling as she closed her eyes to savor the delicate flavor of the treat. His mood was undeniably chipper and he prattled on about setting up the special classroom for her once she learned to accept instruction without carrying on so much.
Emma's ears perked up. A classroom? What demented means of torture would he expose her to there? As though reading her mind, he wiped her mouth and then leaned back in his chair.
"I intend to teach you all the things that you lost while messing around in college. You will have homework and tests, and even laboratory time. I'm going to teach you chemistry and physics, introduce you to literature, and see if you have any talent in gardening. One of us should be able to grow food around here."
Emma felt a surge of hope swell within her body. Was he starting to trust her? He leaned forward and kissed the top of her head. "We will begin classes as soon as I am done setting up the electric fence around th
e property. We don't want to risk any intruders interfering with our fun now, do we?"
She shook her head, once again feeling the flood of despair overpower her. At least I will get to enjoy some fresh air and sunshine, she thought to herself. The true acceptance of her situation dawned on her with the last words—what the hell am I thinking?
"Are you still hungry?" Jack asked, holding up another bottle. She shook her head. "Then let's go look at your surprise."
He returned her to her room and locked the door behind him with a key. He sat her on a chair and took a few steps back.
"Spread your knees."
She obeyed.
"Emma, spread them further and look at me while you're doing it."
She lifted her eyes to his and slowly locked into him. Without thinking, she spread her knees wider. He smiled, breaking the spell of his gaze.
"I liked that. For now on, when I tell you to do something, you are to look me straight in the eye and then obey me. Would you like that?"
Emma nodded her head—and meant it. Her heart surged from his praise, confusing her sensibilities once again. This was the captive state he had desired for her. That deprived state of mind that rejoiced in the praise of her captor. Like a starving dog fighting for scraps, any morsel of praise was a welcome surprise.
He buckled her ankles and wrists to the seat. "Now, sit right there. I'm trusting you not to move, because if you do… well, I'm wearing my heavy belt. Do I have to say more?"
Emma shook her head. Vaguely, she remembered feeling that belt once or twice before. But her memories—devoid of any knowledge of the passing of time—were just vague images of something long ago. She squeezed her eyes shut, forcing herself to remember something—anything—from a time before she came here. There! A memory! Kissing her aunt's handsome boyfriend, and how she had let him touch her breasts. It seemed so timid compared to Jack. Jack was pure man, and no-one could compare… No! Emma began to sob, realizing that he had stolen everything from her. Her freedom, her dreams, her memories, and eventually, her sanity.
"There, there, my Precious. There is no need to cry. Save that for when you're a bad girl and need to repent."
He kissed her tenderly on the forehead and got up to walk to the far corner of the room. A white chair was in the corner, the back and seat covered by a cloth.
"Tada!" he exclaimed, yanking the fabric away. Emma's mouth filled with bile.
Like all the furniture Jack built, the chair was sturdy and ornate. Like all chairs, it had a back and a seat—but that was where this particular piece of furniture distinguished itself. The four legs were attached to a set of grooved planks which allowed the item to slide forwards and back. The front legs had cuffs for the ankles and, higher up, straps for the thighs. A broad leather waist belt was attached to the tall back, and a pair of wrist restraints were anchored to the upper back and armrests of the chair.
What horrified her was the modified seat, upon which a large, marble phallus was mounted.
"So you do appreciate the skill that went into constructing this beautiful thing," he swept his hand to show her. "That protrusion took me months to smooth properly. We wouldn't want anything scratching up your little bum now, would we?"
Emma began to tremble, unable to fathom engulfing that menacing sculpture, especially while sitting down. Jack applauded her excitement and then demonstrated the sliding mechanism.
"Now, look at how clever I am. When you move the chair back and forth, the anchor moves up and down. We can control the depth and speed manually, or…" he flipped on a switch, "I can control it via remote control. Look how fast and deep it can go!" He grew excited. "Your ass will feel well fucked after that, won't it?"
Tears rolled down her face as she nodded. He squatted in front of her.
"Haven't you wondered why I'm not fucking you myself?"
Emma quickly shook her head.
"Well, I'm going to tell you. Right now, it would be too much like fucking my own daughter. I'm not into incest. If your mother had married me, then you really would be my baby, and I wouldn't have to make you pay for your mother's poor choices. Or your father's betrayal. He was my friend, you know. Until he stole her from me."
He applied a generous dollop of lube to the marble offering. "Your aunt hated your mother. Did you know that? She hated her because I loved your mother, and Barbara wanted me for herself. And then I rejected her. She just wasn't the caliber of woman I wanted in my bed. She was too old and bitter—the idea of fucking her made my cock shrink. She never quite forgave me for that." He chuckled, coming up behind Emma and brushing her hair back into a ponytail.
"Did you know that Barbara was broke? She sure was. She spent all her money trying to be something she wasn't—a woman of class. I have a secret." He tightened the ponytail harshly. "You didn't really fail out of school. She never paid for the classes in the first place. She's a very clever woman, though. I will give her that. She made me an offer that was too sweet to pass up. I was to give her one million bucks, and she gave me, well, you, in return! She hired that boy to seduce you. Yep, that way she could have a legal excuse to be rid of you and no-one would say a word. She set the whole thing up so I could buy you and keep you as my own forever. Oh, yes, and I only have to share you with her for one week out of the year! Believe me, I would not have agreed to that if I thought you wouldn't exceed my expectations."
Emma gagged and began to throw up in the can next to where she sat. Jack cooed, stroking her hair as her body expelled every drop of her breakfast. As though he'd been expecting it, he removed a cool, wet cloth from the basin on the dresser and gently wiped her face and mouth. He gave her a sip of water, hushing her suppressed sobs.
"Aww, baby. It's so easy to understand why you are so happy to be living with me, and being taken care of in such a good way, after all those years of being with someone who hates you. People change. In a few months, I will have Barbara come over and see just how wrong she was about you. Would you like that? Sure you would, you silly girl. Now look at me."
He wait until she gave him her attention. "I know that anchor is large, so I am going to allow you to lower yourself down on it without my help. That means you are to walk on over there, climb up on the platform, and sit right down until your bottom hits the seat. You can take as much time as you need. I even put the lube on for you this time. Remember to take your time. I don't want anything to tear."
He unbuckled her restraints and looked her straight in the eye. "Disobey me and you will sit there for an hour. With a blistered backside. Now go."
Emma raised herself on wobbly legs, trying to recall the process of walking. He had allowed her to stand in her crib, playpen or the bathroom, but never to take more than two steps in any direction. The trip she was to take across the room, the one that would lead her to that chair in the corner, was longest she had made since her arrival. Every step was painful, from the biting resistance of unused muscles, to the still aching flesh of her backside. He had replaced the rings around her nipples, and they jiggled with each footfall as a reminder of the things to come, even beyond this atrocity.
She paused before the 'anchor', as Jack named it. Indeed, it would anchor her in place, preventing her from even budging an inch when strapped in.
"Go on. Get up there and squat over it," Jack urged, sitting in the chair to watch the show.
Squat? She was so weak from lack of exercise that she could barely support her own weight for more than a few minutes, and he wanted her to squat? Emma slowly climbed onto the chair and looked at him with one pleading glance before she carefully centered the tip of the staff in alignment with her anus. She tried to relax and allow the lubricant to work its magic, but the girth was larger than her reluctant body was willing to accommodate.
"Move up and down on it," Jack urged, leaning forward to watch. "Slowly. You can do it. Go on. Make me happy."
It was a good thing he kept her well-hydrated because of the amount of tears she still managed to produce during
uncomfortable situations such as this. Inch by inch, Emma worked the massive figure into her body. Her body rebelled, protesting as her weakness caused her limbs to tremble, until she lost balance and slid the rest of the way down onto the anchor. She screamed, stuck in place, the fear of permanent damage racing through her mind as she felt like she had been impaled clear to her belly button.
"What is all that fuss about? Be proud! It's not long enough to hurt you. Hell," he flipped out his cock and smiled at the widening of her eyes. His girth was as large as the pole she was speared on! "Mine isn't even long enough to hurt you. I've changed my mind. At least, I've changed it about fucking that ass of yours. But on special occasions only."
He buckled her in, securing her wrists to the armrests. "You can push up and down a little this way. Try it."
Emma cried out as she pushed her body up about an inch, and then collapsed on top of the anchor again.
"Good girl. Open your eyes. On the wall in front of you is a counter. Do you see it? It counts the number of full strokes during a time out. I'm going to allow you to fuck your ass manually right now. I want to see fifty counts before I let you off of there. Take your time."
When Emma didn't move, he started to laugh. "Silly me! Here you go. This is the remote control. That button that looks like a trigger controls the stroke. The little button on top is for the speed. I have it set to single strokes for you because I want you to savor every one of them. But before you try, let me show you how it's going to feel."
He slowly pushed the chair back, and the phallus lowered until just the last inch remained within her. He then pushed forward, and the marble dildo rammed back into her rectum. He did it a second time, and then a third.
Emma's Corner Page 6