by Jack Quaiz
Then the handcuffs were removed and leather bindings of some sort were firmly attached around each wrist. He pulled her across the smooth floor and attached her wrists to something in front of her. A moment later, her arms were pulled straight up above her head. She was able to keep the strain off her wrists by holding a leather strap that crossed the palm of each hand.
She didn’t know what to expect next. The kidnapper still hadn’t spoken more than three words, so she had no clue as to why she had been forced into this humiliating position. Except for the leather restraints on her wrists, she was totally naked and exposed to anything the kidnapper wished to do. She could feel that her large breasts were nicely displayed by her raised arms. She was very proud to have such attractive breasts at her age. As her ankles were fastened to the floor about two feet apart, she struggled between fear and arousal. When she thought about how her shaved cunt was now exposed, she knew that arousal was going to win.
The man removed her blindfold. He stood behind her so she still couldn’t identify him, but she could tell that she was in a darkened room with a single spotlight shining down on her. Nearly blinded by the sudden light, she could just make out the shape of a video camera on a tripod with a red light blinking. Perhaps the kidnapper was making a tape to send with a ransom note? Who would be looking at that tape? The thought made her hold in her stomach and thrust out her chest to show off her lush figure.
The blindfold was suddenly replaced, but not before she had looked down at her nude body and noticed how her firm breasts were thrust forward and her nipples were as hard as little rocks. The feeling of debasement was strong and it stimulated an increasing wetness between her legs.
The kidnapper decided to enjoy himself a bit and started slowly caressing her. No kisses, he didn’t want her to feel his beard. Seeing her without her usually perfect hairstyle made her seem more than naked. The strong spotlight emphasized the fashionable paleness of her skin. Her milky white breasts were made to be offered in this position, he thought. He made sure to pinch and twist the erect pink nipples, then squeezed each breast hard several times. He lifted and dropped each one repeatedly to appreciate their resilience and weight.
Reaching down between her legs, he started to lightly stroke her slightly damp cunt. Hmmm, freshly shaved, he noticed. After a few minutes, he found her clitoris, which was as hard as her nipples. She jerked when he touched it, betraying its extreme sensitivity. The ankle restraints made it impossible for her to bring her legs together, granting him free access to her erotic center.
After several minutes of light touching and teasing, his semi-willing victim was nearly ready to scream from frustration. Removing his hand from between her legs, he stepped back and picked up a four foot single tailed whip that his years of practice allowed him to control perfectly. To make sure that it was properly flexible he cracked it in the air a few feet behind Victoria’s back. The sound was like a small caliber gunshot. He enjoyed seeing her jump and fight against her bonds.
The threatening snaps of the whip frightened Victoria and she began to make sexy whimpering noises as she realized that she did not have the slightest control over what was going to happen next.
With a series of gentle overhand strokes, the braided nylon cracker on the end of the whip started to kiss her pale skin. Just a light snap on her shoulder blade, then a stronger one on her left ass cheek. The impacts burned like fire for thirty seconds, then left a hot glow behind. Very light strokes alternated with moderate ones for several minutes, leaving distinct red welts on her upper back, buttocks and thighs.
There was a slow, regular rhythm to her punishment that added to her arousal and her desire to surrender herself to her captor. Every ten to fifteen strokes, the whip would crack near her helpless body with a loud report, re-igniting her fear. A few strokes began to creep around her generous hips leaving more raised red stripes there.
She could feel every one of the burning welts, although she had lost count after fifty lashes.
The thrill of dominating the normally haughty woman was making him hard and his rapid heartbeat was almost audible. “I feel so alive when I do this,” he thought. There was an almost painful pressure as his cock tried to find a path for expansion. He would have to remove his jeans soon if this continued and he decided to pause for a moment to regain control. To regain his composure, he concentrated on his technical skills and carefully used a backstroke to place several lashes between her open thighs, setting fire to her already overheated labia.
He walked around her, admiring her body and noticing how vulnerable she looked, blindfolded and hanging there within easy reach. I love the way this position emphasizes her hipbones and the way her breasts stand out and beg for attention, he thought. He sensed that it was time for another hard stroke, this one needed to strike an unmarked area of white skin just below her well-shaped right bottom cheek.
By this time, Victoria was sure it was Cole. He was playing her like a musical instrument. Nobody else understood her responses well enough to do that to her. Gasping between lashes, she cried out, “God, you’re good Howard. I’m so horny I could die!”
Pulling the blindfold off, he smiled and said, “You are such a slut, Vicky.”
“I am not a slut!”
“Yes you are. Look how wet you get when you’re tied and whipped. I’m not stopping until you admit it. Admit that you’re a horny little tramp who needs to be dominated.”
He adjusted the overhead rope to pull her wrists higher, forcing her up onto her toes. The harsh restraints stretched her voluptuous frame to its limits.
She turned her head to get a glimpse of Cole standing behind her. The handsome face with its sinister beard and the studious glasses reminded her of how hot she was for the man. The pressure of her arms against the side of her head told her that her damp hair was nearly dry and must look horrible. It was bad enough being put on display in such a lewd manner, but she shuddered with humiliation at the thought of being seen without her usual perfect hairstyle.
Cole didn’t mind a bit. He thought that her nicely stretched body looked quite delicious, especially when forcibly stripped of its artificial decoration. He moved around in front of her and carefully aimed the thin whip at her right breast.
“No! Please... not my tits!”
She moaned and watched fearfully as the tip burned a red line into the inner curve of her sexy cleavage. She tried to shake her chest from side to side to spoil his aim, but he slowly covered her thrust out bosom with one stinging welt after another. The delightful jiggling of her breasts only spurred him on. He saved her engorged, sensitive nipples for last.
She was biting her lip to keep from saying the one humiliating thing that would make him stop, when she realized that he was taking aim at her highly aroused left nipple. She was a strong willed woman, but her eyes opened wide when the whip lashed her helpless teat. Almost instantly, before the pain could arrive at her brain, he had done the same to her other nipple. Throwing her head back she let out a long scream that echoed off the walls of the large room. Hanging there whimpering as the pain in her breasts slowly diminished, she said, “You’re right, Howard, I am a slut. I need to be fucked so bad I can’t stand it another second.”
“So, you’re a horny little slut, are you? You’ll have to beg me to fuck you. Do you want it that bad, Little Vicki Slut?” He slid three fingers inside her while using his other hand to lightly brush her abused nipples.
Victoria sucked in a huge breath as she felt her vaginal muscles relax and invite the invading fingers deeper. A large quantity of her slick fluid flowed onto Cole’s hand. She was terribly embarrassed by her obvious need, but it didn’t stop her from begging.
“Yes, please sir, I really need it now! Fuck me, please fuck me!” Victoria had never felt so degraded and debased.
He lowered her until he could unfasten her wrist and ankle restraints from their attachment points. Then with the leather cuffs still on, he led her to a low bed in the corner. “Get o
n your knees slut, you’re going to be fucked like an animal. Get your head down all the way. Arch your back. Stick that cunt out for me.” He reached beneath her with one hand to roughly fondle her large breasts, which were hanging straight down in a tantalizing way. His other hand slapped her welted ass and stroked her cunt to bring her arousal to a peak. He quickly removed his clothing and touched his aching cock, which confirmed his extreme horniness.
Cole slipped a thin textured condom onto his thick organ and knelt behind her. The view of her hips and cunt was intoxicating. He slipped easily into her wet opening and began long slow thrusts that gradually increased in speed and power. He always used a condom with his paying customers, partly to protect himself and partly to help delay his own orgasm. He was glad for the reduced sensation this time, since he had become highly aroused by dominating the proud Victoria.
Being fucked from behind was Victoria’s favorite position, but she never allowed her lovers to take her that way. She thought it was demeaning and didn’t want them to see her like that. Being ruthlessly whipped, then fucked doggy style by someone who really knew how to use her was something from her hottest and most secret fantasy. Her skin was still burning from nearly a hundred thin welts, when the pounding of Cole’s cock pushed her over the edge. She came in a long series of violent internal spasms and a guttural scream that sounded as if she were dying.
Cole was breathing heavily, not from the physical exertion, but from the intense concentration. He was just a bit disappointed when she collapsed forward onto her face. “Humph!” he muttered. “You’re not getting off that easily Miss Vicky.”
She seemed completely incapacitated as he rolled her over onto her back. He quickly fastened the wrist cuffs to the head of the bed and used soft ropes to pull her ankle cuffs to each side, leaving her cunt gaping and ready for his attention. When she opened her eyes she looked at Cole’s face, then at his hard cock and felt a wave of total lust. Even though their relationship was strictly limited, at that moment she wanted him inside her more than any man she had ever known.
“Please, please, I need more!” she begged, while trying to thrust her wanting pussy toward him.
Warming up on a nearby chair was an electric massager with a large flat head heated to several degrees above body temperature. Grasping the cylindrical handle, Cole turned it on and began to slide the warm, flat, vibrating surface up and down the slippery length of her shaved vulva. He varied the pressure in time with the movement of her hips creating a symphony of sexual stimulation.
Straining against her soft bonds and panting like she had just run a marathon, Victoria had two or three more earth shattering orgasms before Cole decided to give her his own cock again. He released her legs, then held them up together while he knelt and pushed himself fully into her warm depths. Her legs folded conveniently over his shoulder. The extra tightness caused by holding her legs together helped offset the effect of the condom and the soaking wet cunt. Seeing her hands still restrained above her head reminded him that he was in complete control.
He looked down at her breasts, which had flattened considerably in this position, but now jiggled dramatically with his thrusting. “Nice tits, my little slut, you should see how they bounce when I fuck you like this,” he said in a humiliating tone. Victoria tried to respond verbally, but could only manage a series of gasps and grunts.
The physical and emotional stimulation soon had him on the verge of coming and he slapped her welted ass with his hand just as he started to spurt. Even though Victoria was exhausted, Cole’s loud groan of pleasure and strenuous involuntary thrusting forced her to come once more.
About an hour later, when they had both recovered enough to talk, he inspected her for any cuts or bleeding. She was covered with thin welts about four inches long. Fortunately, none of the welts had broken the skin and they were all in areas that would heal nicely. “You’d better stay away from the health spa for a while. There’s no way you’re going to explain this,” he said. “You won’t be showing any cleavage either,” he noted, while looking at her striped breasts.
“I know, but it was worth it. I feel so relaxed, so balanced, it’s almost like being high. I can survive the rat race for another few months now. Thanks, Howard... really.”
She grinned and pulled him into a lover’s hug. “Don’t you worry about me, I’ll heal up OK.”
He showed her that the video camera had been a fake. It was all part of the performance. She took some time attempting to make her hair look better, then asked for a scarf to cover it. He drove her home and handed her the garage door opener that he had used to gain entrance to her house. When she asked how he got it, he simply grinned and said, “A pro-Dom can’t tell all his secrets.”
Victoria turned to watch him drive away. In many ways she wanted him for her own, but she knew that it was best to keep their relationship just as it was. Turning to go inside, she started to think of her next social obligation, a party that she was hosting in a week. Her newfound state of relaxation allowed her to contemplate her duties without the tension that had been present the day before.
A few days later Cole received a letter from Victoria addressed in her excellent handwriting. Inside he found a personal check for two thousand dollars and a one word note that said “Thanks.”
CHAPTER THREE
Several months later, in an apartment close to downtown, a woman with gloriously curly, long brown hair hunched over a glowing laptop computer. It was, appropriately, resting on her lap as she reclined against a pile of pillows on her queen sized bed. Her name was Monica Peterson and she was trading email with a man whose personal ad she discovered on the internet the previous month. So far, she knew him only as Howard.
She brushed her hair back from her pretty face and frowned in concentration. As she thought about the best way to convey a very private thought to her new correspondent, she recalled some of their previous conversations.
He described himself as a professional dominant for women, a pro-dom. When they first made contact, he asked her to explain in great detail what she was looking for and why she wanted it. It was not easy for her to discuss such private thoughts, but it was a very enlightening exchange.
They traded email almost daily for six weeks and talked on the telephone several times. His deep, sexy voice on the phone made her tingle inside. At first, Monica was reluctant to believe that he was genuine, but gradually she became convinced and started making plans to meet and perhaps sample his services.
Early in their correspondence she revealed considerable information about herself to avoid any misunderstandings about what she was looking for. He patiently answered her numerous questions about dominance and submission, then asked more questions about her past.
In one of their first phone conversations, she asked how he would make her submit. He patiently explained, “I have no interest in making anyone submit. Not by seduction, threats or trickery.”
“If someone wants to be my submissive,” he told her, “they must submit willingly, even eagerly.” He had vowed never to waste his time on someone who was not sure what they wanted. She learned that one of his greatest fears was to have a partner appear to submit, then change her mind and accuse him of forcing her.
Monica worked as an account executive in a well-known Seattle-based marketing firm. She believed that the pressures of her job were partly responsible for her intense desire to submit sexually, but the roots of her sexuality extended back beyond her dimmest memories. Perhaps it was even determined by her genes.
As she and Cole were getting to know each other, she conscientiously answered his questions regarding her childhood and her first memories of wanting to submit. “When I was seven,” she told him, “I remember hoping that my cousin would tie me up. He was about ten years old and had no interest in me at the time. I was very disappointed.”
At age nine in Boise, Idaho, she would wrap herself in long coils of rope and pretend that she was a woman being held prisoner by various vil
lains. She wasn’t exactly sure what the villains would get out of it. Apparently, tying up women was part of their job, or at least it seemed that way on television.
Then there were the Nancy Drew books. She discovered them when she was eleven. The scenes where Nancy was captured and tied up held her attention like nothing else she had read before. In one book, Nancy was spanked with a hairbrush by a nefarious thief. In the privacy of her gingham and lace bedecked bedroom, Monica found out what turned her on.
The next step in her sexual development occurred when she found her father’s pornography hidden in a dresser drawer among the socks. There were several bondage magazines and some SM oriented paperbacks. Her favorite was the Story of O. It provided her with endless hours of erotic fantasy. Even more important, it proved that there must be others like her. She knew that someone had to be buying these books or the publishers wouldn’t print them. The dog eared copy that she had stolen from her father was still kept reverently with her important papers in a safe deposit box.
When she went to college in Chicago to obtain her business degree, the college men that she had expected to be so sophisticated were completely clueless. Sex was a big disappointment. Lots of groping and awkwardness. It was so hard to tell a man what she wanted, especially when so many of them expected her to take charge. Couldn’t they see that she wanted them to be in control?