Bo had moved just inside the gateway of her slit with his fondling fingers. She was a breath away from cumming.
“Tell me how you love it, bitch,” Emerson stood again and looked her in the eye. “Tell me and I’ll let you come. You don’t, I’ll make Bo stop.”
She’d been carried to the exasperating edge, almost there. Her belly heaved, clamoring for more. Her body strained as if that would trigger the end. But this time she seemed oddly out of control inside a body she could usually take to orgasm with little effort. It all hinged on the bastards in charge. The big man at her feet was a gentle sadist whose easy pussy torture was about to drive her mad. And Emerson. Damn! How had she let the bastard so far inside her mind? How?
“Goddammit, of course I love it! Just let me come!” she blared.
“Love it so much you want another cigarette burned into your skin? Huh? How about between those pretty ass cheeks? No one will ever know—unless they get that close. My guess is that if they do, they won’t be asking questions about your little brandings.”
Bo couldn’t have been more brutal as he teased her roused sex-spot.
“Dammit, Emerson. Do whatever you want!” she screamed. “I can’t stand this. Yes, yes! Burn me! Torture me, please!”
He smiled, wickedly. “See, that’s what I wanted to hear, a little enthusiasm.” He sighed with satisfaction, then his face broke into a scornful snicker. “But no, honey, I’m not going to burn you again, not now. You just remember your place. When we’re here in this place, on this property, you remember who owns your body, bitch. We do. And if we ask you to bend over, bare your butt and become our ashtray, you’ll do exactly that.”
His merciless words wrote pictures of anguished consent across Penelope’s proud features. He had climbed inside her mind, done battle and won.
“Gawd, yes, anything!” she agreed.
Emerson backed up and nodded to Bo, whose small efforts became bigger ones, joined by an investigating tongue that probed her labial lips and entered her vagina, right where his fingers had been.
Penelope screamed as the orgasm ripped her wide and she writhed in bondage, straining through climax after climax. Her sex, prompted by Bo’s tongue and talented fingers launched attack after attack until he tired from the effort and backed away. Penelope fell forward exhausted.
The fire was still growing, billowing with ash and smoke and soot that rose into the air and then disappeared into the night. Emerson unbound the spent bitch and forced her into the water, dousing her heated body. Back on the beach, he shoved her toward Zack, who reclined like a drunken god against a patchwork comforter his Kathy Ann had made for him.
With her orders clear, Penelope crawled on hands and knees, while Emerson thought to remove the blindfold from Kathy Ann’s eyes so she could see her boyfriend raped. The bitch with her cigarette brands had hardly come-to; she’d be at her fucking prowess now, more pliable than even a loving girlfriend. Few men could resist such a female animal in heat, and Zack, who planned to teach his bound girlfriend a lesson, wasn’t about to resist the beauty’s efforts.
Penelope went for Zack’s lips first and as the two made out like passionate lovers, Kathy Ann watched. Penelope’s hand roved his muscled body, feeling the firmness of his chest, baring it and kissing its tautness down to his jeans. Her efficient hands soon had the jeans removed, and Penelope’s mouth went for the rising erection, taking the full seven inches of meat deep into her throat. When she came up for air, she jacked the shaft with her hand, then went down on him again, swallowing his organ deep inside. Backing off again, she sucked the head tasting pre-cum, while murmuring with satisfaction as she felt the spasms in her body begin to surge.
“On your face, bitch,” Zack warned. His hand thread through the thick brunette hair, pushing Penelope’s face hard against his groin. “Ah, God, yes, yes,” he hissed, arching back. “You got it, babe, you beautiful, slutty bitch, do it, yeah, yeah, DO IT!”
He pushed her off at the moment of ejaculation, and watched as his erection jetted onto her face and mouth.
An enormous sigh followed. The crouched Penelope didn’t move, and everyone seemed to wait a bit numbly until Zack finally spoke.
“Penny, go have Kathy Ann lick it off your face.”
Penelope struggled to her feet, and moved toward her friend while she licked some of the cum that had seeped into her mouth. The rest of the thick jism was left for Kathy Ann’s lips. The bound girl was in tears, as her tongue and mouth completed the humiliating demand. Her eyes were filled with longing and resentment as she recognized Zack’s taste and Zack’s scent on the woman’s face.
“Don’t leave a drop, Kathy,” Zack warned.
When she was finished, every inch of Penelope’s face had been licked clean.
By then, Zack had moved to his feet and had buckled his pants around his waist. Moving next to Penelope, he drew her attention to Kathy Ann’s tits.
“Pretty, aren’t they, Penny?”
“They are, yes,” she agreed.
Kathy Anne’s breasts were large and round and milky white. The scratches from the tree had long since faded, leaving her skin flawless once again. Picking up one heavy orb in his hand, Zack felt the weight, the D-sized bounty, which he found to be his favorite feature in a girlfriend with plenty of fleshy assets to lure a man’s eye. Holding it in one hand, he reared back with his other hand and gave the breast a stinging slap.
Kathy Ann shrieked.
He slapped it more, hitting both sides, with both hands, until the flesh turned red enough to satisfy his lust. He dropped the one and moved to the second tit, which took the same rough beating. With both breasts red and raw-looking, he turned to Penelope.
“Do it to her, Penn.”
The bitch’s eyes glowered darkly. It seemed as if the evening’s feral darkness had not yet been fully realized in Penelope. She quavered, a quick look of fright on her face, then she stepped in front of Kathy Ann and began whacking the pink tits with the palm of her hand. Though she started tentatively, her efforts became more vigorous with each blow, matching Zack’s brutal style.
“That’s it, make her hurt!” Zack goaded.
One small hint of worry appeared on Penelope’s face as she heard the man urging her and Kathy Ann’s pained cries.
“Hey, don’t worry, she loves having her tits abused. Don’t you?” Zack taunted the squirming Kathy Ann.
The bound girl bit her lip, closed her eyes and nodded.
“Well then,” Penelope said. Her eyes glowered darker still.
Inspired, her slaps got meaner, faster, laid on with little restraint. Pain registered on Kathy Ann’s face in contortions and agonized grimaces, until something suddenly snapped, pushing her beyond the sensation of pain. A shudder of orgasm crawled through her as she accepted blow after blow from Penelope’s open palm, flattening against her hotly reddened skin.
“That’s it, you show them how you like to cum best, girlfriend.”
Shudders and weeping and sighing ended the game, with Kathy Ann a puddle of emotion.
“Oh, yeah, she likes these beauties abused,” Zack took Penelope’s place in front of her, once the slapping and coming was over.
“Look at me Kat, now!” Zack ordered. “How about a memento of the night…just like Penny’s but maybe a little different. Something so you won’t forget, huh?” He turned around and motioned to Emerson.
The iron was hot inside the fire, at the perfect intensity, the poker with its small gift lodged on the tip ready. It was just a penny, a molten penny, hot enough to burn the skin and leave a shallow brand.
Zack pressed it for just a few seconds against side of Kathy Ann’s breast. She hardly howled, though the pain was tough to take. When he lifted the small round disk from her skin, there remained a perfectly formed circle of angry red. A blister was already forming.
“Don’t think this is the last of it, Kathy Ann,” he warned.
She shook her head, afraid to speak. Though inside her e
yes, there was nothing but love for Zack. His power over her had grown. She would match anything Penelope did to prove herself in his eyes. She’d be anything he wanted her to be
Removed from the stake, she moved to beach beside Bo and Zack and Penelope.
The fire had not been stoked since the scene with Kathy Ann began, so the flames were beginning to die off—although not too rapidly; it had been big bonfire and would not be quickly extinguished. The physical energy in the group was starting to mellow as well, and might have waned considerably if Daphne were not still bound to the post, blindfolded, sightless, ignored, the farthest from the action, on the outskirts, like an afterthought.
“So, what about you? Did you think we had forgotten you?” Emerson approached his wife, eyeing the beauty of her bound body, as she heaved erotically inside the ropes that held her to the stake. “My fair and lovely wife, what about you? What inner demon do you need to show to this company? What bit of naughty girl resides locked inside your depravity? What do you fear the most…” he thought a moment, “not the loss of control like our Penny…certainly not the emotional hurt Kathy Ann licks up like candy… no, I think yours is very different, wife... How about Abandonment? Or maybe guilt? Or fear? You don’t even like this blindfold. It keeps you inside yourself, doesn’t it? And such things rattle around inside you.”
She shook her head. Inside the sweaty black band of cloth, Daphne suffered pangs of mounting fear. Everything her husband said bit, as if he knew how to pluck thoughts from her mind, like plucking cherries from a tree. He knew where the bruised and battered thoughts lay hidden beneath the kind ones, and the normal ones. She wasn’t normal; she never had been, and lived with that fact in fear of being found out. But of course the brilliant Emerson, her husband, Emerson, would discover the truth. He’d been tap-dancing around it with her for months.
“You’re so quiet, submissive, acquiescent, even docile. You can’t even defend an opinion with much power behind it. You try, you make stabs at it, but basically, this thing that harps at you, this horrifying inner reptilian monster that you daily feed just drags you back, again and again.”
Behind the blindfold, her eyes shed tears. Soon they would soak the cloth and he’d know how much she wept.
“Your problem, my darling, is that you don’t have to hang on to your horror. Why do that, when you have a man in your life who is just dying to see your nasty alter ego perform?”
Her head drooped sadly, while her sore arms burned with a terrible ache. It must have been over an hour that she’d been bound against this post. After all this time, she hardly had the heart, the strength to go through a trial as frightening as her friends’ had been. But then, she had no choice but to follow her husband’s lead.
Emerson snapped her head back, clutching her chin in his hand, and jerked up.
“Tell us, tell us all, Daphne, sweet Daphne, what it is that shames you so? What terrible thoughts do you think of in the middle of the night when your sweating horny body masturbates? You think I don’t know what you’re doing, but I do. I wake, come to the surface out of my dreams…sometimes thinking I’m dreaming. I lie still as the bed shakes and my wife travels her lonesome roads of sin.
“Tell us what she’s thinking. That’s all you have to do. You do that, Daphne, and I’ll let you down. And don’t think you can skate through this, don’t give me some silly shit that hardly ruffles your cunt or you’ll stay here all night long.” He paused, watching her bite her lip and her muscles tense. “It’s getting bad, isn’t it? The strain on your arms and legs. You probably want to scream. “So, talk, Daphne.” He waited, watching her breathing become more labored. He could feel her desperate attempts to start.
Finally, he moved closer. His fingers snaked between her thighs and began to circle round her clitoris. Her body jumped to life. “Maybe this will help, huh? Think those thoughts, Daphne, tell me what they are. Remember the night after night how you play…the afternoons alone, the secrets you keep… They’re not so secret to a man like me. That’s why you have me. I am your husband.” Her breathing became more labored as the thoughts began to surface. “You owe me an explanation. You own me the truth. Tell me, Daphne.” He was in her face.
“No, please, Emerson, I can’t say those things!” she finally spit out when she couldn’t stand it anymore.
“Of course you can,” he spat right back. “It’s just us.”
A more sobered Penelope jumped from the sand to her feet. “If we can stand the humiliation, Daph, you can too,” she snidely chimed in, sauntering toward her friend and taking a lock of her ash blonde hair and curling it around her finger.
“Go back, darling,” Emerson goaded, “to the middle of the night, last night, go back inside that perverted brain and remember, remember what you thought about, what got you off, spit it out.” He gave her pubic hair a terrible yank.
“Ouch!”
He tugged again. “You don’t start talking, I’ll just keep tugging away. What were you thinking last night? Tell me. What was it… tell me…”
He kept talking, repeating, battering her brain, while her mind tried to function. The thoughts were close, but vile, like they always were, vile and frightening. The pictures started to come, only to be jerked away by Emerson tugging at her pubic hair and Penelope there goading with a sneer that was so obvious that Daphne could see it right through the thick blindfold. Anger split from her mounting emotions in tiny pieces, making her grimace and fume inside. But Emerson just kept tugging as he spoke “tell me, tell me, tell me…” repeated like a mantra…slamming into her brain, assaulting her, nagging her, on and on. The pain, the goading, the repeated goading, the pubic pain, the body hurt, and Penelope’s insistent hissing whispers made her finally bellow:
“Dammit stop! Let go my hair! I can’t think with you hounding me! Dammit!”
“Ooo, my, she’s getting randy now,” Penelope slunk off with an exuberant smile.
“You start talking, wife, and I’ll shut up,” her husband said. He gave her pubic hair another vicious yank.
Before he could finish, she began, practically shouting, vehemently venting every picture that poured into her head, “I think about dogs, Emerson! Yes, dogs, about being fucked by dogs…and gangbanged by nasty men over and over again… being hurt, whipped, branded, beaten…being jailed in Tijuana and used for sport…becoming a boot-licking slave, a ponyslut plowing fields and chained to a cart, beaten when I don’t perform, beaten…” she breathed a heavy crying sigh… “and caged, and gagged.” There was no way to hide her copious tears now.
“More…” Emerson whispered.
“And, and…being butt-fucked, my ass fisted, my tongue rimming someone’s ass… and getting peed on, spat on, strung up on wires, given like a prize to your friends, Emerson… given away like a toy…” she stopped, overtaken by her sobs.
Emerson, slapped her face to bring her back again. “Go on, slut.”
She breathed heavily, while trying to calm. Then in a voice wracked with emotion, she continued, “That is what you want from me, isn’t it? To give me away to parties of businessmen, and horny generals, who watch me dance for nickels, stripping to nothing, getting off on my hand before their eyes. I see them heckle me from the audience…make fun of my dancing…they draw me down to their laps where they can paw at me. Bite me. Slap my flesh. I’m thrown against a wall and fucked…fucked…”
She paused, as if there were more to say then shook her head. The visions in her brain clouded.
“What else?” he asked.
“No, Emerson, there’s nothing else. I swear.”
“You expect me to believe you?”
“Oh, my dear, please, you have to. I can’t, just can’t anymore. I can’t think of anything else, Emerson, please let me down.”
He moved in close again, his hand at her neck, caressing her hair, a gesture of tenderness that seemed surprising. But he wasn’t feeling as heartless now as he had before. It wasn’t what she said as much as the passion be
hind it. Little in the confession surprised him but the ferocity punched his gut like a shotgun blast. He wasn’t certain what to do.
“Emerson…” she whispered. “I have to come.”
“What? Now? This makes you horny?”
“Isn’t that what you wanted…it always does.”
“Yes, of course.”
Though slightly dazed, he took charge again. He played with her wetness and saw her smoldering body lift off as the pictures of her depravity returned again inside her mind.
Tired, hurting, but in need, it all came back as her husband manipulated her sexual body. She thought of the dogs again lapping at her cunt, and of man a below her, between her legs, shoving his fist inside her cunt. Her belly lurched and a sudden spasm jerked every muscle in her body. She wrenched against the cutting ropes, leaving raw indentations in her flesh. The cum was swift, too swift perhaps. But it would have been difficult with just one climax to express all the physical desire behind her recent torrent of words. Once the cumming crested and then died away, she sagged inside the prison of rope exhausted but more alive that she’d felt in months.
“Oh, darling, I think there’s more,” she quietly admitted, afterwards.
“More what? Nasty pictures, or pent-up need?” he whispered quietly as he stroked her arm.
“Both.”
“Hum. I’m not surprised, but this is all you get for now.” He was both kind and a bit cold, having to remember what would finish this session and finally allow him to take her down. “Don’t worry, wife, we’ll deal with this again. But you’re not done yet.”
While the two quietly recovered, Bo nursed an iron in the fire to the perfect molten color. A small “G” for Gray was now glowing like the hottest ember.
Emerson turned and nodded to his friend.
“This will mean you’re mine forever,” he said to Daphne. While Bo moved from the fire to Daphne’s side, Emerson stood in front of her, holding her head gently and resting his forward against hers. His grip tightened, at the instant Bo pressed the fiery brand into her left flank where her thigh meets her ass, where the skin is tight and smooth and likely to remain that way for some time.
The Abduction of Veronica X Page 4