The Marquis' Book of Pleasure & Property of the Marquis

by Lizbeth Dusseau

  “No! That will never happen!”

  Kafka’s eyes narrowed in anger with this last cry, “Don’t make me have to gag you.”

  Laney hated gags, so she clamped her mouth shut tight. Meanwhile, her body and soul made every effort to climb down the ladder of submission to that deeply longed for place of complete surrender. Before she was even halfway there, however, she felt a sudden snap of electric current make her entire body jerk and rise inches off the chair. The sensation disappeared as quickly, but left her with a tingling sensation that penetrated her entire body. Another longer zap of energy rifled through her system and then was gone.” She shrieked weakly. “In the seconds that followed, she tried to understand what she was feeling, then through bleary eyes she watched as Kafka gave the signal for another shot of electricity.

  As her entire body sizzled, her head fell back and she cried out, “Gooooodddddd, nooooooooooo!” until the machine turned off and the ferocious sensation diminished. Her nipples, her labia, her clit and cunt and ass all burned and glowed and came alive in a way she’d never felt before. She squirmed involuntarily in the chair, her eyes half-closed in delirious wonder.

  “Ivana!” Kafka called out. The blonde moved to the man’s side. “Check her cunt. If she juices from our efforts then I think we should continue. If not, then we’ll have to try another means of torture.”

  Ivana knelt at Laney’s side, reaching deep into Laney’s snatch where she worked a finger alongside the probe.

  The woman pulled her finger out, smiling. “Ja, Kafka, very wet.”

  “Good. Good. Now that we have her attention…” Ivana melted into the background while the handsome brute moved back in close to his captive. “Tell us, what is it you’re here to do with your Marquis?”

  Laney shook her head.

  “Speak!”

  “I don’t know.”

  He slapped her face. “But you do know, tell me.”

  “But I don’t!” she cried, desperately.

  He nodded to the man behind the controls. “Just her nipples… but twice the voltage.”

  The sudden shock to her nipples made her screech again and the pain went on and on—three, four, five, maybe ten seconds before it finally let up, leaving her breathless and panting.

  “What is it the Marquis wants with you? Why come all this way? Tell me, bitch!”

  “I don’t know what he wants, I swear.”

  “You lie!”

  “No, no, I don’t lie.”

  “Something on his island, perhaps?”

  How did he know so much? “No, no, I found nothing there.” She shook her head.

  “And I say you lie!” He motioned to the operator again, this time saying, “Her cunt and labia.”

  As much as she tried to anticipate the shock, the sudden, forceful stimulation took control, so that she was jerking involuntarily without any means of controlling her response. Her crotch convulsed with pain and a sexual arousal so deep and so large that she could not deny what effect the torture was having on her mind, her emotions, and her spirit.

  “Please, please no more!”

  Kafka laughed. “No more? Why? When you’re loving it so.”

  “I’m not loving it. Please!”

  “You’re lying. Ivana,” he motioned to the woman again and Ivana came forward and knelt at her side again, working several fingers into Laney’s cunt. She smiled when she found the wet excesses of the captive’s cunt flowing over her hand. This time, her hand remained there playing with the folds of skin that had only been made more alive from the charges of electric energy that had been zapped through her nerves.

  Laney groaned, despairing that she could not maintain some degree of control, but she could not.

  When Ivana withdrew her hand and revealed it to the others in the room, it glistened with Laney’s sex juice. The woman presented it to the captive’s mouth and Laney was forced to lick off every drop of cum.

  “Her ass!” Kafka announced. And a hard jolt of electric shock made Laney jump several inches. Another and another followed. Each one longer than the previous. Then it was her clit that burned, and her labia that suffered next, and then her nipples received the longest blast, until the man at the controls had each of the electrodes sending its terrifying current up her ass and in her cunt, and directly on her clit, her nipples and through her labia all at once.

  Her head fell back again and she screamed even louder and more uncontrolled. Pain ripped through her nerves at a surprising rate, but by that time, Laney could honestly not say whether it was pain or pleasure that tormented her. A deep burning in her gut and a savage ache in her cunt emerged from the vile torment. Bliss threatened. Endorphins rushed like raging stallions.

  “Oh, dear god,” she gasped in a barely heard voice, when this latest buzzing ceased and she finally caught her breath many seconds later. Her head fell off to the side, and a little spittle had gathered at the corner of her mouth.

  Kafka grabbed her by the hair, bent her head back and forced her eyes on his.

  “So, tell me, slut, was that so bad?” he hissed.

  “No, sir.”

  “Sir? Hum. I like that,” he looked up at his companions. “Ivana, again. Let’s bring her off this time. I’m rather enjoying the experiment.”

  Ivana worked with expert skill to find the places in Laney’s pussy where she gasped the most when stimulated. Then the electrical current ran again, in all seven places, completing the circuit, and when it stopped, the voluptuous blonde thrummed her clit and rubbed another finger lightly across her ‘g’ spot.

  “Ohgod ohgod, ohgod,” Laney panted, shrieking, her body banging back and forth, recklessly jumping against the chair and Ivana’s fingers. She was unable to contain her frenzy, or to even appreciate how intoxicating she looked to the eyes of her doting audience—she’d never know how much they enjoyed the performance because she wouldn’t be told afterwards.

  Spasm after spasm continued to tear through her. If it had not been for her handcuffed hands behind her, binding her to the chair, and Ivana’s anchoring hand, she might have fallen to the floor. Long after the current was turned off and the climax had retreated from its first powerful spasms, her body shuddered and convulsed, unable to stop for several minutes. She jerked and twisted now like a mindless puppet on a puppet master’s strings.

  “We have ourselves a first class masochistic whore,” Kafka announced at last.

  He moved back in front of her and lifted her head by the chin, which had fallen limply to her chest.

  “So, you have no idea what the Marquis wants with you here in Prague?”

  “I’ve never even met the Marquis. I’m seeking him out.”

  He looked vaguely impressed by this news. “Well then, why didn’t you say that in the first place, slut? You could have avoided all that pain.”

  As if that actually would have mattered. He did not bother to disguise his mockery.

  Kafka looked back to his friends. “Put her in the shed, where we can all enjoy what her body has to offer. Use her as you like, just be sure you keep her clean and unmarked. We’ll do the marking later.”

  ‘What marking?’ she thought, but she had no strength left to ask the question.

  Chapter Eleven

  Inside a clapboard shed adjacent to the ancient cottage, Laney was bound to a bed with an old metal frame. Through a long bank of dirty paint-stained windows, she could see the cottage and the comings and goings of Kafka, Ivana and the other men who attended her. Regularly through the day, she saw Ivana sexily kiss all the men as they left to do their daily business elsewhere, and again when they returned hours later. She even watched through the windows as Kafka fucked the woman, a scene that was certain to have been played out expressly for her eyes. Ivana had just brought her breakfast, and on leaving with the tray still in her hands, she was accosted by Kafka, who tossed the tray aside, and threw her against the cottage wall, while tearing away her small dress. All of her clothes were snug; her blouses stre
tched across her enormous breasts and her short skirts would rise up on her thighs, eventually creeping high enough to show her ass crack from behind. On this occasion, the tiny dress was roughly yanked away. If Laney were not mistaken, it was torn at the seams.

  For the first time, Laney saw Ivana’s breasts bared completely. Their fullness, and the look of her soft white skin made her mouth water and her pussy long for her touch again. Staring through the windows was a bit like watching a grainy art movie from the sixties. She saw Kafka bend the naked woman at the waist, so that Ivana’s hands were forced to grab the edge of an old rain barrel to steady herself. The man pulled her plump hips toward his groin and speared her with his cock, fucking her brutally, while his face twisted into a sneer. The blonde cawed and mewled, her big breasts dangling down and banging back and forth, while she gasped for air and purred the nonsense sounds of sex in her native tongue.

  Laney’s hands were bound above her to the iron bedrail, her feet likewise spread and bound to the foot rail with ropes, so that unless she could work the sheets beneath her into the molten spot between her legs and come on them, she’d be perpetually frustrated by an arousal she could not bring to climax. She practically cried as she watched the sexy, fucking pair, all the while grinding her hips into the mattress, making the bedsprings beneath her creak. Sometimes she worried that the bed would crash to the floor with all the use it was getting.

  The day she watched Ivana and Kafka, she’d already been bound to the bed for two days and two nights, given the sole job of satisfying the inhabitants of the house whenever they desired her. The man who kidnapped her came to her first, on the first night of her captivity. He’d quickly shed his clothes and climbed on her half-sleeping body. She could still feel the effects of the electrical torture in the funny fits and starts. She’d jerk uncontrollably and felt a rush of stimulation going straight into her loins, although his body was warm and settling as it rubbed against her. He loved her breasts and spent a long time kissing and biting and gnawing the sensitive flesh. With her nipples already sore from the electrodes, it was at first difficult to find pleasure when he sucked them, as though he were nursing his mother’s teat. In time, his persistent sucking made her cunt twitch. Her hips moved back and forth and she began to moan unconsciously. He noticed this and sucked a little harder, drawing the nipples even deeper into his mouth and biting them with his teeth, lightly at first, as if he were afraid to bite down hard, then much more firmly as he felt her respond. She groaned with her cunt starting to spasm from his efforts. She would likely have come if he’d kept this up, but he wanted more from her and finally got down to business. With his prick hard, he straddled her hips and plunged his organ into that velvety feminine home, grunting with pleasure as he then eased deeper inside.

  She squeezed him, muscles jerking involuntarily; she was already beginning to come and would continue spasming around the thrusting organ, all through his build-up—which was brief—to the finish, when he triumphantly shot his load as far as his cock could reach inside her.

  The young man with the messy hair fell down on her exhaustedly when he was finally done. Laney had come twice during the incident, and in the moment of sweet aftermath, she only wished she were free to hold him and to run her hands through his hair.

  He would come to her several times while she was bound in the shed, and fuck her very much in the same way, with the same satisfying results for them both, but she would never know his name.

  The second man was a tall, fair-skinned fellow in his late twenties, his hair a messy crop of curls—although it was not as long as his blond friend’s. He smoked cigarettes almost non-stop and sported a seriously grim expression that rarely changed.

  He didn’t come to her until the second day, and even then, he stood for a long time inside the shed and simply watched her. She’d been sleeping when he arrived and on opening her eyes, she jerked, straining against the ropes.

  “What are you doing here?” she cried out, a little terrorized by his remote, fixated eyes.

  He didn’t reply so Laney stared back at him waiting for him to make a move. He seemed determinedly fixed to the doorway. Was he not aroused? Did the allure of a sexy female, available for his use, not entice him at all? If she’d not been bound, she might have eventually done a little dance for him, something to seduce him, persuading him to make a move. Without that, he remained standing in the doorway, chain smoking until there was a thick cloud of smoke floating around his head. What she didn’t understand was how aroused he was, how his cock throbbed inside his pants and how very much he wanted to use her body. He was merely shy with women and inexperienced with sex.

  Eventually, perhaps because of the lust-filled look in her eye that urged him on, he finally moved tentatively forward and started to take off his pants. What he revealed when his jeans were at his ankles was a stiff hard-on, as big as she’d ever seen on a man. She immediately shrunk back in fear of it, knowing by its great length that it would bang her pussy raw.

  She let her eyes take it in and get used to the idea of the organ inside her pussy, and after a few minutes, she began to desire the very thing she was afraid of. She licked her lips unconsciously encouraging him on. As aroused as her captivity had made her, a long hard dick wouldn’t be all that bad, or all that painful, she reasoned with herself. She longed for these men, for their bodies, their flesh touching her flesh, their loins locked on to hers, their hands combing her skin.

  At last, silently—for no words were needed in this situation—he crawled up on the bed, mounting it by climbing over the foot rail and working himself up Laney’s recumbent body. With his tongue gliding over her skin, he worked his way up her legs, then between her thighs, then higher into the crotch. Parting her labia, his tongue speared the small cleft until he could lap the bud of her wet clitoris.

  She gasped feeling a gentle pain leap on her as he kept on and on lapping the swollen, delicate bud. His tongue was incredibly versatile.

  Then suddenly, he bit her hard. She squealed and tried to squirm away from him, but he clung to her clitty, refusing to let go and forcing her to experience the pain, until the pain turned into pleasure.

  Again, silently, he moved further up her body. As he crawled, his dangling hard-on dragged against her skin. He passed her crotch, where she hoped he’d plant his spear with resounding finality, but he continued on, dragging his penis until his knees were on either side of her neck. His hips rose up and he pressed the tip of his cock against her lips, her cue to open them.

  Laney let the long cock into her mouth, while being very much afraid she’d be unable to pleasure this well-endowed man this way. Her cunt or ass would have been so much more satisfactory in this instance, but he gave her no choice. He wanted to fuck her mouth. He wanted to drive his penis down her throat.

  Not choking became nearly impossible. Again and again, he thrust, like he’d thrust himself into a cunt. She worked him as best she could, but it was the deep-throat he most wanted, and little by little as moved inside her mouth, her throat opened to receive him. She lost all thought, becoming mindless and purely physical at that moment, connecting with this man in the way he most desired. Why she cared about his pleasure at all would be something she’d think about long after this day. At the time, it seemed like a natural, even loving act, an affectionate gift to a shy and awkward youth who needed her profound submission in order to discover his own sexuality.

  When he began to spew himself into her mouth, the spell between them was broken, and she choked from the gobs and gobs of cum he ejaculated toward the back of her throat. She swallowed and swallowed again, then several more times until at last he withdrew his organ, and tapped what was left of his cum on the side of her face. He immediately pulled off the bed and walked to the door, zipping his pants as he went—he didn’t look back. The door slammed behind him and he set the lock, then Laney watched through the dirty windows as he returned to the cottage.

  Laney’s long-haired friend returned to use
her again shortly after the fair-skinned man had left. Laney suspected that she’d play the whore until they tired of her, or the situation in some way changed. She’d been led to believe that these men were enemies of the Marquis and she was being held for ransom, but she could be certain of nothing. Those who kidnap would have no difficulty lying too. She had walked into a tangled web of uncertainty, and was now left with threats and evil promises and the possibility of more torture. Who would even know she was there? She was lost to the world, and long hours alone in the shed caused her mind to wander into places where there were no answers and nothing to figure out because she simply did not understand the game into which she’d become a pawn.

  Although she could panic, panic would do her no good; she was simply forced to wait for her fate to unravel, while having no clue how that would take place.

  Sex was solace, something to do during her long, wasted hours, a natural act she began to yearn for to break up the monotony of being bound to a bed with nothing but her thoughts to occupy her time.

  Escape? Escape naked into the countryside of a foreign country where she knew no one and did not speak the language? Not that this hadn’t crossed her mind, so far, nothing in her captivity—including the electrical torture, led her to believe that such an attempt was crucial in order to survive. Her captors wanted her alive. They were thugs, opportunists—sadists, certainly—but they were not murderers.

  She would bide her time; hope, pray and let the whorish use of her body quell the terrifying anxiety that rose up when, unbidden, her mind assaulted her with reminders of her desperate situation.

  Late on her third full day of captivity, after the two men had used her for sex and she was momentarily sated, momentarily at peace, Ivana arrived with a tray of food and, as was the custom, she untied the rope that bound Laney’s hands to the bedrail above her. She could sit up, and when her feet were also untethered, she was allowed to use a bucket to pee in—this was a repeat of her morning ritual. While she remained unbound, one of Kafka’s two male companions would stand outside the door and make sure that she didn’t try something foolish, like an attempt to escape.