by David Saxon
I pulled at the nipples again and again, seeing in her eyes that I had hit on the cause of her problem. Armed with that knowledge, I released the ball gag, eager for answers.
“Well,” I said enjoying the mix of emotions reflected in her eyes, hate, fear, sensuousness, “I shall remove them in due course. Do you understand?”
I repeated the question until she nodded her agreement. The look in her eyes changed. I thought I saw a fleeting but very unlikely spark of love. Was I deluding myself? Surely she could not swing from one deep emotion to another so far removed in that short space of time? Foolish was the idea, I know, because the last thing I wanted was for this girl to fall in love with me or, indeed, I with her. Such weakness was not to be pandered to. I had to remain stoically impersonal. I released the rings with a smile, knowing that already she was beginning to bend to my will. It was time to attack those damned jeans. I hate jeans, as you already know from my dealings with Kerry. I tucked my fingers under a small roll of flesh and unfastened the waistband, then unzipped her. She writhed within the confines of her small bondage and even attempted to kick me as I knelt to pull them over the flare of her hips. I drew them quickly over her knees and she was effectively hobbled. This of course brought me face to face with her crotch and, Gods be praised, beneath those sweet flimsy knickers I saw a fat juicy pussy rounded out so that her outer labia were encircled by pubic hair rather than concealed by it. I ripped off her panties and saw, to my horror, that the piercing artist had been there before me. Those outer lips were adorned with two rings each, similar in size to those in her nipples. I cringed at the very thought of the pain even after the anaesthetic had worn off. Why had she got it done? It was a terrible mutilation.
“You’ve let some butcher get this intimate with you. My God! Did he fuck you too? Did he?” I shouted and threaded my fingers through all four rings and pulled out and sideways, opening wide her vagina.
Kathleen squealed and shouted. “Fuck off and bloody well let go of me!”
“Did he?” I repeated looking hard into her eyes. She shook her head violently. “Good!” I declared, kneeling on the floor and wrenching hard on the rings. If she didn’t already regret the rings she sure as hell will when I was done with her. I could not understand such weird desires, such horrible abuse of so magnificent an organ. Why do women put themselves through such agony and in such intimate places too? In Kathleen I felt it to be a manifestation of an underlying rebelliousness.
The one and only reassurance that I give willingly to any woman is a compliment about her body because, ever labouring under the demands for perfection, they all perceive their bodies to be imperfect and therefore unbeautiful. This, of course, is nonsense but it is at the very core of their vulnerability and I do, in clients such as Kathleen, want to exploit that weakness. It has to be understood, after all, that for every woman on the planet there is a man who desires her. Many have whole armies lusting after them but by desire I mean a unity of body and soul, not just a body. The mind should be as beautiful and as sweet as the sweetest body and I believe Kathleen to have a beautiful mind. But for the time being I had to be fully occupied by her body and who could blame me for that?
“I want to see if you are a nice clean girl.” I looked hard at her internal flesh. The inner lips and at the little boatman of her clitoris, were exquisite and were so sweetly scented that I could not resist reaching in with my questing tongue. She tasted divine. I was pleased to see that she had not let the butcher near her clitty or her inner lips. That would have been a travesty to a man like me who so revelled in the joy of taking a clitty between his lips. I pushed my face into that deliciously sweet smelling pussy and flicked my tongue over the nub of her little boatman anxious to draw it out so that I could suck it. Amazingly I could pull on the rings and bring those outer lips to rest against my cheeks, so large fat and juicy were they. It was as if I was entering a throbbing pink lined tunnel.
The inner lips opened, flower like, and let me into her secret recesses. Against the wishes of her better self she was pushing on to my stiffened tongue and sobbing with the pleasure of it. When, in time, I had broken her inhibitions I guessed that in the same circumstances I would receive the full thrust of her hot vagina. That was something to look forward to. There was, I sensed, an abandonment within her that has been waiting a long time for release. She was making up for lost time. Muscular ridges drew in my eager tongue. This girl was made for the cock. Yes, of Kathleen I will make a very successful wanton and get enormous pleasure in doing it.
I got to my feet and straightaway, ignoring the pools of her pleading eyes, stripped away her remaining clothes. She was delightful to look at. Naked she revealed a perfect hourglass figure. The small roll of fat, freed from the tight embrace of those awful jeans, had melted away, lost in her delicious curves. Her flaring hips from a waist a shade too thick swept in awesome curvature into the swell of her thighs. Her hips were truly a cradle in which a man would know his ultimate joy. They made a perfect radius around her pubis. I had to know if I was right in that she was denying her man the joy of such a beautiful body because she was ashamed of it or, more likely, ashamed of those rings.
In standing back and contemplating what next I must do to that gorgeous body, an idea hit me very forcibly. It was time to examine the extent of her pain threshold and those rings suggested a very interesting way of doing it.
I slapped her breasts indignantly. “Why, in hell, are you denying your future husband the charms of you beautiful body? Is it because of those rings?” I slapped them hard again and again, sometimes alternately, sometimes both together, until they were reddened and pliably warm.
“Yeeeow ... yeeow ... Because I don’t want to! It’s my body.” She yelled with a spark of defiance, “and... Aaaaah.”
The last sound was a long drawn out sigh as the result of my avidly kissing her ringed nipples while I thought of the next step in my counselling. She was lying, of course. That was not the real reason. I was sure that she was acutely embarrassed by his clumsiness. Her love for him was as a father and not as a lover.
“You have nothing to be ashamed of except those damned rings. You are a very beautiful girl and I know your ste … eh ... future husband adores you. Chrissake, what more do you want? Do you expect him to grovel to your beauty?”
“He can grovel all he likes. I won’t give in unt ...!”
“We shall see about that!” Oh, what an empty promise! I had no appetite for forcing her into any unwanted relationship. That was not my business. She was here only so that I could reveal her sexuality not for me to persuade her into that dull man’s bed. Anyway, Kathleen was far too personable a person to succumb to any such coercion.
The ceiling of the cellar, built as strongly as a nuclear fallout shelter, was fitted with a number of carefully placed pulleys substantial enough to bear the weight of any human being. Some of them were single sheaved so that only one part of rope passed through them but others were double sheaved so that a tackle could be rigged, rather for my convenience than for that of my victim. I had, in the dim and distant past, had an accident in which the rope had parted and let the girl down so hard that her belly hit the floor hard while her arms and legs were held tight. Her body had bent into a backward bow with such violent suddenness that I really thought I had broken her spine. It was a salutary lesson. I have been extremely careful since.
I took down a heavy leather belt from a hook. It was shaped and tapered to fit snugly around the female waist. I passed it around Kathleen’s waist and buckled the several straps at the front so that it was tightly hugging her. I slackened off the hauling part of a heavy tackle lowering the bottom block which had a stout hook in it. Passing this through a ring on the back of the belt I was able to lift her easily.
“Ooow.” Kathleen wailed angrily. “Christ Almighty, what in hell are you doing?” Her rebellious wriggling was pleasing to my eye and did not hind
er the lift.
I tied off the hauling part to a cleat on the wall. Her hands, cuffed to the pole, caused her upper body to be drawn into the horizontal about three feet above the floor. Her legs hung down untidily. I removed the hobbling jeans altogether and, although she kicked her legs, I managed to secure cuffs to her ankles. These too were fitted with substantial eyes through which more hooks could be passed. Tightening of these tackles caused her legs to be lifted into the horizontal and spread so that I had complete and unhindered access to all her charms. She could no longer kick me. Face down she could barely turn her head to keep an eye on me and when the effort got too much she gave up and hung her head. Meanwhile I focused my attention on her plump and finely rounded bottom which looked so devastatingly enticing, with a large mole in the very centre of her left cheek. The flesh was hot under my hands as I prised open the cheeks against her resisting tension. I slapped them hard, warningly, savouring their jelly wobbling as I laid it on. “How dare you resist me like that, girl!” I slapped harder, letting her know that I was boss and that I had complete control of her body to do with as I willed. “You are here to learn obedience. We can do it the easy way or the hard way. Your body needs to be explored and enjoyed. Do...” slap, “you…” slap, “understand?” Slap!
Kathleen wriggled and writhed and nodded enthusiastically. “Yes, I bloody understand. Now you damned well stop that!”
“Good! You seem to want to do this the hard way.” I slapped her again on each of her big round ass cheeks. “Aaaah! Ooow … oh … stop! Stop!”
“Then behave! You cannot win, girl so it’s no use trying!” She bowed her head in reluctant acquiescence.
Her arms now out-stretched to the pole caused her heavy breasts to hang deeply. The rings on her nipples and her labia were hanging ready for the next step in my subjugation of Kathleen.
I lugged two very large weights from the corner of the room, the sort of thing once used on industrial scales with a U shape in the middle and a bar across for lifting. I placed these on the floor, one beneath her breasts and the other beneath her pussy. They would not move whatever struggling she did. From a hook on the wall I selected a number of lengths of fairly heavy gauge chain. In the middle of each length was fitted a turnbuckle screw and at the ends shackles of stainless steel. I shackled a chain to each of Kathleen’s nipple rings.
“Oh God, what the hell are you doing? Those chains are damned heavy!”
“They will be heavier still when I am finished. Then, dear girl, you may shout and yell as much as you like.” I left them hanging while I applied other chains to the four rings in her pussy lips. The second round was to secure the other ends to the weights in the same sequence. Subtlety was always the best method of inflicting this kind of applied and carefully managed pain. The third round was to screw up the turnbuckles. Their opposing threads soon tightened the first chain. As it reached tension it pulled at the nipple distorting the breast.
“Ooow… oh … ah … stop it ... PLEASE!”
I turned my attention to the others. All her parts were under some tension but now I really wanted to make her feel it. How far would I have to tighten them before Kathleen became really distressed? I went through the sequence again this time putting serious tension on each. Her nipples stretched fully an inch and a half when she began to squirm and yell. It was an infernal noise. I licked each of them with a very wet tongue, watching and enjoying the mixture of emotions in her eyes agleam with tears.
But there were four more chains to tighten so I couldn’t linger. There would be time enough to concern myself about her emotions when I had her properly secured. I gave her a reassuring pat on the cheek. On my knees I moved to the turnbuckles attached to her outer labia. I knew she could withstand much greater stress and pull on those fleshy flaps. They stretched astonishingly.
“Ooooh … oh … please don’t!” Kathleen’s complaint, whether from tiredness or acceptance, had lessened to a pensive pleading. It was impossible to believe that all of a sudden she was enjoying the harsh bondage.
Glistening with mucus, her outer lips fully concealed her erect clitty, more than an inch and a half in length. With each turn of the screw they stretched more until, like two triangular curtains, they shielded her most sacred love tunnel. When all the turnbuckles securing her to the floor were as tight as I felt she could sustain, I got to me feet to survey my handiwork. Her delectable bottom was my next target but before that I needed for her to see how excited I was by her beautiful predicament. It is a truth, apparently, that most women are not content with their own body shape which is why, I suppose, so many of them go to plastic surgeons. I believe strongly in letting a woman know that you admire their figures and that the best way to do, when you have a woman compromised as Kathleen now was, is to strip off your clothes and stand in front of her so that she has your big erection blossoming before her eyes. I raised Kathleen’s head by the simple expedient of grabbing a handful of her hair and lifting it. Her eyes, in spite of herself went straight to great and throbbing erection and remained fixed on it with a deep look of longing. It was precisely what I wanted and expected to see. I knew she wouldn’t disappoint me.
“Good, my little darling, you show great promise of being a perfect sex object.” “Balls!” She answered with cordial directness and an argumentative glare.
Strange how so many women reject the very purpose for which they were put on the planet. Well perhaps the tawse will bring her to her senses. If that doesn’t work then I have many more persuasive ways of bringing her to heel. I had to make her life force entirely sexual for, although she seemed not to know, that was her driving and most fundamental motive. She had to enjoy all that I did to her and, by extension, all that her prospective husband would do to her simply because she was that kind of sexual being. She must have her desires enhanced to meet those needs and if I couldn’t bring that about then I would have failed. Kathleen was too precious a maiden to become a victim of failure and failure is not a word in my lexicon. I badly needed to make this work because she was such an intoxicating subject. I had to admit to an element of excitement greater than the impersonal stimulation that my previous clients, including Kerry, generated in me. I felt an urgency welling up in me.
It was time for the tawse. I had a comprehensive collection of these. The loudly impacting paddle; the rubber single pad flexible to curve over the bottom; the split tawse that delivers a more flexible cut to that less accessible area between the cheeks of the bum; the many tailed cat that stripes the skin with stimulating weals and finally the cat that claws at the skin with knotted strands and easily brings blood to the surface. I use that one only sparingly because one must needs wait for the healing process to start before beginning again. It had been a process of careful selection in buying this equipment because I wanted nothing that was liable to break the skin. I could not send damaged goods back to husbands. I selected the unknotted cat because its flexible strands could reach around the chastised hip and flick at Kathleen’s extended labia.
Craaack! The first touch sent her into frenzied jerks. “Aaaah!” The cuffs at the pole jingled as she grabbed at it with both hands. It was the only means she had of tensing her body against the pain. One of the direst consequences of suspension is that you have no anchorage. One is merely hanging without grip or leverage and so loss of control is absolute.
Crack!
“Damn you, bastard, that bloody well hurts! Stop it!” Crack!
“Oooooow!” She screamed and wriggled violently as the tails began to redden the skin in a criss-cross of welts. I pitched each stroke to make an equal pattern on both cheeks.
“Count the strokes, Kathleen! Count!” Crack. A little harder this time just to ginger up her flagging gyrations.
“O… o … one!”
“Wrong, Kathleen, that was four. But now we’ll have to start all over again.”
Crack. That one l
anded awkwardly because I was distracted by my bone hard shaft rubbing briefly against Kathleen’s warmed flesh. My heavily swaying balls were eager to deliver their load.
“O … o … one!”
“Good girl, you’re getting the idea.”
Crack. How pleasurable to watch her bouncing flesh and to smell the fear and the excitement that exuded from her every pore. I lowered my free hand to reach between her distended labia and was pleased to feel the increasing moisture of her excitement.
Craack! “T… two!”
I meted out fifteen more strokes which she counted properly then I dropped the whip and walked round to face her, my hard cock stiff standing and vibrant, the veins standing out in solid coils and the head a deep purple with the height of my passion. I grasped it and point it to her face raised to meet it. Her eyes were large with emotions of which I could read nothing. I wasn’t sure whether she was still angry or whether the towsing that had so reddened her ass had subdued her temper or made her even more hostile to me. I released my cock and moved closer until her hot breath fanned it. I didn’t know what to expect from Kathleen but in the event she remained silent. I held my cock towards her mouth. Her full, sweet lips worked and I knew she was captivated by the weapon held so close before her. I inched forward and played it over her face knowing there was nowhere for her to go. Her fingers worked in the cuffs as if she wanted to replace my hand with her own fingers.
“Do you want it, Kathleen?”
“Of course I want it you stupid bastard, do you think I’m queer or something?” “Where do you want it, Kathleen?”
“If you wanted an ass to put it in why didn’t you find a boy?”
“Oh no. I shall open you up to that route soon enough but now …pen that sweet mouth of yours…” “You want me to suck that thing?”