“It’s okay, but I would like something. Even just a sandwich?”
She nodded. “I know, but that would reward you.”
John stared at her.
“And I don’t know if I want to do that,” she said in a soft voice.
“Huh?”
She smiled at him a wicked smile.
“Seeing you all wet and sticky has put me in a punishing mood,” she said as she leaned forward and grabbed the leash between his legs.
“And I think you should be punished, Johnny.”
She pulled hard on the leash. His cock pulled forward, the ring bit into his skin.
“And I’ve got just the equipment to do it.”
Fifty
Zoe placed the egg scissors around his erect cock. The sharp teeth closed around him and bit into the skin just below his cock ring. Her little finger slipped inside the ring and pulled hard.
John was past screaming. He knew it wouldn’t do him any good, it just exhausted him more. His eyes were tightly closed, his teeth clenched.
“Crack for me,” she ordered. “I want to see your egg white. Cum for me, spill your creamy white. I want to lick it.”
She twisted the egg scissors to one side. Its teeth tore across his skin.
John’s back arched with the pain. His hands pulled at the handcuffs, but he was powerless to stop her.
The quilt below him was doused in his sweat. He could feel the cool wetness as he fell back to the bed.
The latest round of pain faded.
Too far, he thought over and over again. She’s gone too far. Too far.
His mind went blank and he found himself floating back.
He didn’t know how long the torture had been in progress, he had no idea. It seemed like forever.
He had looked out the window at one stage, looking for the sunlight, hoping that would give him an idea of the time that had lapsed.
But there was no sunlight, no shadows. Just a grey miasma. The clouds had filled the sky completely, blocking out all rays of sunshine.
All rays of hope…
He knew he had no chance to stop her when she had pulled on his leash after saying she planned to punish him.
He didn’t know whether it was because she had noticed the glass in the sink, or whether she thought he had been trying to escape. Or maybe this was just the next level of the game. Either way, it didn’t matter now…
Zoe had gone back to the kitchenette, grabbed the extra plastic bag she hadn’t unpacked and returned to the bed with it.
“Trust me, Johnny,” she had said. “You’re going to love what I bought for you.”
She then sat on the edge of the bed, placing the bag on her knee.
“Ready?” she smiled at him.
He didn’t want to, but he nodded.
And she’d shown him everything she had bought at the general store.
First was the wooden rolling pin.
Then came the egg scissors.
And then the branding iron.
He was surprised to find that fear and panic didn’t overwhelm him as she brought each of the items out of the bag.
He had watched them with passionless eyes. He looked at all three items, taking them in, logging them in his mind, but he felt nothing.
She had smiled at him then.
“Tell me what you’re really hungry for,” she had asked.
He said nothing.
“Tell me you want me, that you hunger for me,” her eyes sliced into his very soul.
“I want you,” he heard himself whisper.
“Tell me you want me to hurt you.”
“Hurt me,” he repeated. He heard his voice, but it sounded detached from him.
She leaned forward and kissed him hard; her wet lips on his, her tongue forcing forward, touching his. Her breathing was heavy and as she pulled away from him she streaked her tongue along his cheek and up over his forehead.
“Yum,” she said as she pulled away. “You’re sweaty.”
She licked him some more, letting her tongue trace down his nose, across his other cheek and down to his earlobe. She bit the lobe hard, tugging on it with her teeth.
That was the first time John didn’t cry out.
There was no point.
She’s won. The game is over.
“I’ll be right back,” she had said.
She ran across the church to the spiral staircase and climbed the stairs, disappearing behind the lectern. He heard a key scrape into the lock and the hatch open.
He’d been so close.
Was she using the red key from the key ring? If only she hadn’t taken it with her when she had gone to the store! I would’ve been free by now.
The hatch slammed shut and the noise echoed around the church.
Her head then reappeared above the lectern.
She turned around, leaned forward for a moment and then smiled at him.
Within seconds she had climbed back down the stairs, run across the church and was back by his side. She was carrying the leather outfit she had been wearing the day before, and also the King James Bible. John’s eyes flashed down to the key ring on her hip once more.
So close.
She got undressed in front of him. Slowly, she unbuttoned her checked shirt. Her belly button appeared once more, this time near his face; the diamond dancing before him as she moved. He tried not to look at the half-heart pendant still hanging around her neck, but it was hard not to. She turned around and unzipped her jeans, pulling them down as she bent forward, her arse moving towards him, so close to him he could smell her. He could see her wet vagina, and as she stepped out of the jeans, she moved her legs further apart, giving him a better view of her moist folds.
And despite everything, he began to grow again.
And the pain returned.
She saw his erection pulsing and she turned around to face him, a smile on her face.
“I turn you on so easily,” she said. “That makes me so happy.”
She leaned forward and kissed him.
“I tell you what,” she said. “If my naked body can do that to you so fast, I won’t even bother with the leather. I’ll stay totally naked. Would you like that?”
He nodded.
Her smile stretched wider and she looked so happy.
And then she’d reached down and undid the knot holding the leash on his cock ring.
The pain was intense as she undid the knot, but it soon passed once he was free from the leash.
“There,” she said once it was untied. “That should free you up.”
“Thank you,” he’d replied.
“If you’re a good boy, I’ll untie you even further.”
“I’d like that.”
“I know you would.”
He had closed his eyes, willing the pain to go away.
She climbed onto the bed and ran a hand down his side, across his stomach and over his shaved groin.
“So smooth,” she whispered. “So nice. You like being shaved?”
He nodded automatically.
“Me too. We’re so alike, you and me.”
She grabbed his pulsing cock and kissed the tip.
“I want you so badly,” she said.
Her hands went underneath his arse and she lifted him upwards. The ropes around his ankles bit deeper. The handcuffs pulled harder.
He didn’t try to fight it. He didn’t have the strength.
After a few seconds, she lowered him again, but his buttocks didn’t return to the quilt. They stopped six inches in the air as they rested on something hard. He opened his eyes and looked down his body. His hips were tilted, pushed upwards into the air, as was his groin and ass.
“Who would’ve thought an old Bible would come in so handy?” she said as she looked at him from between his legs.
She was kneeling between his open legs now, one hand massaging his cock, the other straightening the Bible underneath him.
“It’s a perfect height,” she said.
/> “For what?” he asked.
“You’ll see,” she had said with a wicked grin.
And then she’d reached for the rolling pin.
John thought back to that now as he remembered her oiling the wooden handle, pushing it deep inside herself while she knelt on the bed.
“It’s got to be just right for you, Johnny” she had replied as she pushed it into her vagina with both hands, rotating her hips to help it slide in and licking her lips as she did so. “I’ll make it just right.”
She had pulled it out after a short while. The wooden handle of the pin was stained a darker colour, wet from her juices.
She’d then bent over between his legs, pushed his arse cheeks open, and inserted the handle into his anus.
The handle slipped right in – right up to the hilt – and he gasped loudly.
“You like that, huh?” she asked as she slowly pushed and pulled on the pin.
John braced himself as she did so. It felt as if his whole insides were moving, being dragged back and forth with the force of the pin.
His hands clenched and pulled hard on the handcuffs, but he was powerless. There was nothing he could do.
His eyes were closed tight. He was trying to will her to stop.
No, stop it, please. Stop it, please.
But it was no use.
As one hand pumped the rolling pin into his ass, the other rhythmically massaged his cock.
John had no idea how long it all went on. His brain wasn’t working properly. It was almost as if his thoughts were running through molasses. Time meant nothing to him now. He was nothing.
Nothing.
And he was powerless.
Through all the pain and terror, John found himself rising to a climax. He didn’t want to, he wanted to deny her the satisfaction and so he tried to stop it, tried to hang on. He concentrated on holding back.
But just as he thought it was too late and he was going to lose it all, Zoe stopped massaging his cock. It pulsed automatically, wanting to explode, but her hand didn’t return.
She then pulled the rolling pin out. The pin popped out with a slurp and his anus closed tightly. But to John, it still felt as if it were open wide, his insides torn from him.
“A true sign of perfect lovers,” Zoe had said to him from between his legs. “Is that they can tell when an orgasm is near. You were about to cum, weren’t you?”
John had nodded and opened his eyes, looking down his body to her.
She smiled.
“I knew it,” she replied. “I know you so well, Johnny.”
She crawled from the bed, taking the rolling pin with her.
“And the truest sign of love,” she continued as she picked up the egg scissors. “Is denying your lover the release he so dearly wants until the time is just right.”
John had shut his eyes tight, and readied himself for the pain. But nothing could quite prepare him for the agony as the egg scissors tightened around his pulsing cock and the teeth tore into the skin.
“These are good for cracking open eggs,” she had muttered. “I wonder if they’ll crack you.”
And then she had begun the next round of slow torture.
John opened his eyes now and looked towards the windows. It was darker outside, almost night.
It can’t be! Has it been that long? Has this been going on for hours?
From what he could see of the sky on the horizon, the clouds were dark and heavy. Maybe it wasn’t as late as he thought. But he had no way of telling.
Zoe moved on the bed, rocking it slightly as she pulled on the egg scissors, their teeth cutting into the skin of John’s cock once more.
She was bent over him now, the cock ring between her teeth. She pulled on the scissors and yanked the ring with her teeth. As she did so, she let out a low guttural growl.
But he was numb to it all now, he couldn’t feel it anymore and he didn’t want to.
Thoughts slid on the surface of his mind.
She’s mad, totally mad.
But you need her!
Need her? What the fuck for?
To get at Fox.
I don’t care anymore.
Yes, you do. For Helen.
Helen. Poor Helen. I’m so sorry.
It’s not your fault.
Yes, it is.
Don’t blame yourself.
There’s no one else to blame!
“We’re almost there, my love.”
John heard the voice, and for a moment thought it was Helen. But then it filtered through the fog in his brain and he realised it was Zoe.
John looked down between his legs. But she wasn’t there. She had moved.
When? How?
Why?
She was standing by the side of the bed. Her hands and arms all bloody. She looked down at them, and at the blood-stained egg scissors in her hands.
John’s eyes moved across to his slowly deflating penis. It was a mound of broken skin and blood and almost looked as if it had been chewed by some ravenous dog. He looked at his cock through unfeeling eyes, as if it weren’t even part of his body anymore. The warm wet stickiness between his legs meant nothing. He felt no pain, no sorrow. Not even anger.
He was just empty.
Empty.
Nothing.
Zoe dropped the egg scissors on the floor. They clattered loudly and echoed around the church.
Her eyes darted back to his cock and a worried look passed across her face.
“Oh Johnny,” she whispered. “What have I done?”
He looked at her but said nothing.
She raised her hands in front of her face, her eyes staring at the blood on them.
“What have I done?” she repeated.
John noticed the diamond in her belly button was hanging off-centre.
She reached down by the bed and grabbed her jeans. Then, she turned from him and sprinted across the church and up the spiral staircase to the hatch.
John watched her go, his eyes following her small round arse cheeks as she ran from him.
He heard the hatch open and slam shut, but his brain was working in slow motion. Sounds were as sluggish as his thoughts. He heard the hatch, but it didn’t register with him until she was almost back standing by his side.
And then she was bending over him, the jeans in her hands, the material brushing the side of his face, the half-heart pendant dangling before his eyes. He could hear the rattle of the handcuffs and could feel his arms shaking.
But his brain couldn’t process what was happening to him.
And then his arms came free.
Huh?
Zoe removed the cuffs from each wrist and brought his hands down from over his head to rest by his side.
She smiled at him then.
“Is that better?” she asked.
He nodded.
She threw her jeans to one side. The sound of the keys hitting the floor echoed around the church. The handcuffs fell from her hands a few seconds later, echoing loudly in the silence as well.
“You have to help me,” she whispered to him.
He nodded, not understanding. Not thinking.
“I’ve gone too far this time,” she said. “Here.”
She placed some gauze in his hands.
“Help me fix you up.”
John stared at her for a second, then he lifted his head and looked at the gauze.
“I’ll get some water and a towel,” she continued.
John turned his head to stare back at her, but she was already gone, running towards the kitchenette.
The slapping of her feet on the church floorboards slowly reached him through the mist in his brain.
Carefully, John lifted himself up into a sitting position. He looked down at the rest of his body; his hips pushed into the air by the bible, his blood-red flaccid cock.
Still the pain didn’t register.
The pins and needles flowing through his arms as circulation returned was all the pain he could handle for now
. He just sat there, waiting for the stabbing pinpricks of pain to subside.
John tried to think straight. He tried to get his thoughts back in order. But his mind wasn’t working properly. Time had ceased to flow. The events that happened before him now only registered in a stop-start manner.
Sounds were divorced from actions.
Actions were stilted.
Then Zoe was back by his side, dabbing a towel at his cock.
Cold and wet.
The towel was white, quickly turning pink from the blood.
John held the gauze, looking on, passing it to her when she asked.
The pins and needles soon disappeared, only to be replaced by a dull deep ache between his legs. John sat still, watching her work in front of him, staring at her braids as they swung in the air.
And then his cock was bandaged.
He watched as the bandages began to turn pink too.
This is wrong.
A random thought made it through the minefield of his mind.
She was talking to him.
He turned his head and watched her lips move. But the sound didn’t come until a few seconds later.
“….I truly am, Johnny,” she was saying.
Huh?
“…planned. But it will soon be over.”
He closed his eyes tight and shook his head, trying to clear his mind. He raised his right arm to his head and rubbed his temple.
“…and I love you…”
Have to concentrate.
Have to.
“And now you’ll be mine forever.”
He opened his eyes once more and stared at her.
She smiled.
She held the branding iron in her hand.
“Forever,” she whispered again.
The branding iron…
John looked down at the bed quilt and slowly shook his head. He used the colours in the quilt to try and focus his mind, to concentrate on what he had to do. He tried to find the words to explain. But they wouldn’t come.
His eyes wandered across to his bandaged cock. The wrappings were pink and wet now and John could see the tip of his cock-ring poking out of the top of the bandages.
He lifted his head and opened his mouth to speak to her.
But she wasn’t by his side.
He turned his head and tried to focus.
He stared across the church and found her.
She was standing by the counter at the kitchenette, the branding iron in her hand.
Love Lies Dying Page 42