by Ray Gordon
"You don't want my sperm?"
"Yes, I do, but I'm not going to allow you to whip me or..."
"Take your clothes off, Helen."
"No, I'm leaving!" I returned, moving towards the door. I had to find the strength to deny my craving and walk out. "I've made a mistake; I should never have come here."
He beat me to it, slipping into the hall and locking the door behind him. So that was his game, leave me to climb the walls of my cell in my desperate craving until I begged him for sperm, until I'd do anything and everything in return for the drug. Gary was cruel, a bastard. Pulling on the window bars, I knew there was no escape. The hairs on the back of my neck stood up as fear brushed against me.
"When you're ready, call me." Gary's voice came from an intercom fixed to the wall by the door. "Helen, can you hear me?"
"Yes, yes I hear you," I replied softly in my defeat. "You can't imprison me like this, Gary."
"I have imprisoned you like this."
"Someone knows I'm here, a friend. I told her that..."
"Yes, of course. Take all your clothes off, Helen."
"No, I..."
"Strip off and stand facing the wall. There are two pairs of handcuffs fixed to a metal ring high up on the wall, reach up and cuff your wrists when you're naked."
"No, I'm not going to..."
The intercom clicked as he switched it off. I sensed a storm brewing, a storm of sexual abuse - anal abuse. Fight as I did, my craving only worsened. After an hour in my cell, I began to feel claustrophobic, my panic rising to frightening levels. "Gary!" I screamed hysterically, hitting the intercom with my clenched fist. "Gary, please!" Silence, torturous silence.
Slipping out of my clothes, I knew I'd lost the battle - Gary and my craving had ground me down, beaten me. I stood before the wall looking up at the handcuffs, knowing that once my wrists were clamped, I'd be completely defenceless against my perverted neighbour, his every disgusting whim.
"Go on, Helen," he ordered through the intercom. "You desperately need sperm, so don't prolong your agony unnecessarily."
"Where are you?" I asked, looking at the window, the door.
"In the lounge, watching you on the TV monitor. Look up to the ceiling, the corner of the room. Can you see the video camera?"
"Yes, I can."
"The sooner you cuff your wrists, the sooner you'll have my sperm."
Reaching up, my naked body trembling in my desperate craving, my fear, I clicked the handcuffs around my slender wrists. I'd done it, I was now defenceless, vulnerable to my depraved jailer. What degrading sexual acts would he force me to endure? What horrendous things would he do to my naked body before allowing me my fix? I dreaded to think.
I'd surrendered my femininity in my never-ending quest for sperm. Had I surrendered myself to the Devil? My vision blurring, my heart palpitating wildly, I needed sperm now! In return for sperm, I'd have given my very soul to Lucifer.
"Good, good!" Gary chuckled triumphantly as he entered the room and knelt behind me. "Stand with your feet wide apart so I can cuff your ankles." I complied, my thighs wide, my cunt crack gaping as he secured my ankles to rings set in the skirting board. "So, what shall we do first?" he asked, rising to his feet.
"Do whatever you want and then give me sperm," I replied as he crudely yanked my buttocks apart and pressed the tip of his finger against my tightly closed anus.
"Oh, I'll do whatever I want, all right!" His voice was cold, merciless. "I'm going to start by fucking your arsehole, Helen. I'm going to shove my cock right up your tight arsehole and spunk up you. But first, I'll fix this dog collar round your neck."
"Why do you want to..."
"Later, you're going to become my pet dog," he laughed, fixing the studded leather collar round my neck, the long cold chain running down my spine, chilling me. "My pet sex slave."
"Gary, I'm not..."
"Helen, I really don't think you have a choice in the matter. OK, I'm just going to get something from the kitchen and make a quick phone call."
Get something? A quick phone call? I shuddered in my feverish craving and cold fear. I thought of Tony, my home, my ruined marriage. Shattered faith, vows cast to the wind. What was I doing, chained like an animal in my perverted neighbour's sex dungeon? What was I doing with my life? What was life doing with me?
How did people free themselves from the cold, gripping hand of alcohol? Or the ever-tightening stranglehold of nicotine? Cold turkey, cold fear. I should have found the inner strength to fight my addiction. But I'd never known inner strength, I'd never needed to seek it out. Perhaps I had none.
Was there a God? I found myself wondering as Gary finally returned. Was there a universal truth, justice? People only turn to their gods in time of need; this was my time of need. Was this life hell in disguise? People lived their lives in their own little worlds, unaware of the outside world. I'd lived in my sheltered world with my twee marriage, seeking love, happy in fidelity and loyalty. People were blind to the truth. I sensed Lucifer, he was the reality.
"OK," Gary said, moving behind me. "I'm going to shove a cucumber up your arse to loosen you up ready for my prick." I grimaced as his obscene words buffeted my racked mind. They were the words of truth, the cold reality of the world we live in - the world I now lived in. He was a monster, Lucifer in the guise of Gary. "You'll like this," he said, painfully yanking my tensed buttocks apart. "It's far bigger than the candle I shoved up your arse the other day."
The end of the cucumber pressing against my sensitive brown tissue, I tried to relax, to allow the cold intruder access to my bowels. There was no point in fighting the inevitable, prolonging my agony. Twisting and pushing, he managed to drive a couple of inches into my rectal canal. I gasped; squeezing my eyes shut as the fruit slowly entered me, the tapered green shaft progressively opening me, indecently bloating my pelvic cavity.
Again, I thought of Tony, working hard to build our future, our lives. He'd often said that we were meant to be together, that we were soul-mates. I no longer had a soul; Lucifer had snatched it away from me. I'd thought this to be a game, sucking knobs on the common, mouth-fucked, cunt-fucked... But the game had turned on me, turned into a nightmare. Lucifer was the master player.
"How's it feel?" Gary asked, pushing the cucumber deeper into my stretched rectal sheath. How did it feel? Degrading in the extreme, utterly humiliating. But there was worse to come, far worse! Never would I have dreamed that Gary was going to act the way he was. I was to endure far more than a cucumber forced into my rectum. Far worse than the cane or whip. What he had planned for me was inhumane.
As the front doorbell rang out, tears rolled down my cheeks. Again and again I wondered what I was doing, what I'd become, as Gary left the room, my prison cell, and walked down the hall. I heard an unfamiliar male voice as the front door opened. There was laughter, chuckling, sniggering. The cucumber sticking out of my bottom-hole, my naked body tethered, I waited in trepidation and immense humiliation as the male voices grew louder.
"There she is," Gary laughed. I turned my head and gazed at the young man standing in the doorway.
"Very nice!" he grinned. "I like the cucumber!"
"Gary!" I screamed, desperately tugging on the handcuffs. "Gary, what..."
"This is Phil," Gary interrupted me. "He's come to fuck your arsehole, Helen."
"No, please! Gary, you can't..."
"Helen, I can do what the hell I like!" he returned angrily. "After all, you came here of your own accord, you knew what I wanted, you knew what to expect. You do want sperm, don't you?"
I wanted sperm, yes, but not this! I sensed fingers between my thighs, parting my vaginal lips, driving deep into my tightening cunt. As the lewd sensations permeated my pelvis, someone pulled on the dog chain, tugging my head back.
"Let's walk her around the house like a dog before we fuck her," Phil said in his evilness, slipping his fingers out of my violated cunt. Releasing the handcuffs, Gary forced me to kneel on all fours, t
he cucumber still deep inside my aching anal duct.
"Pass me those chains," Gary ordered his perverted accomplice as he sat on my back.
A leather belt buckled around my waist, handcuffs secured to my ankles, I wondered what they were going to do. The two chains clanking as they were attached to each cuffed ankle, I thought my jailers were going to secure my feet together. Running the short chains from my ankles to metal rings in the sides of the leather belt, they secured the ends. I couldn't stand up as Gary slipped off my back. The chains were short; they wouldn't allow me to straighten my legs.
Taking the chain fixed to the dog collar, Phil led me round the room. The cucumber sticking out of my bottom-hole, the chains rattling, this was the height of female degradation, the epitome of humiliation. Treating me worse than an animal, Gary took a leather strap from a hook on the wall and lashed my buttocks as the cucumber shot out of my inflamed arse.
The stinging pain tensing my burning buttocks, I squeezed my tearful eyes shut as the belt struck home again, jolting my abused body, stripping me of my once so delicate femininity. Femininity? A lady, refined, dainty, graceful in the gentle curves of her femininity. I was no longer a lady; I could no longer claim femininity.
Running the end of the dog chain through a steel ring in the floor, Phil slowly pulled, my head lowering as the collar neared the steel ring until my flushed face pressed against the carpet. My buttocks projected, my sex holes exposed, it was impossible to move. Gary had planned well for my visit; his perverted mind had come up with the most degrading ideas imaginable. Was this what all men were like beneath their exteriors, behind their facades? Probably. Tony?
Gary gave my buttocks another two lashes with the leather strap, both men chuckling at my humiliating position as I trembled and whimpered. Dropping the strap, he took something from the corner of the room. Through my lashes, I gazed at the long wooden pole with U-shaped pieces of metal at either end. What was the horrendous-looking device for? I wondered as he settled behind me. What inhumane act was he about to commit?
Placing the pole between my legs, he forced my knees further apart, the U-shaped pieces just above my knees, holding my thighs wide apart. What more could he do to me? How else could he humiliate and degrade me in his decadence? Taking two metal clips from the small table, he fixed them to my nipples. Gasping as the clips bit into my sensitive milk teats, I vowed never to return to the pervert's house, the Devil's house. No matter how bad my craving, I'd never return. But I'd made the same vow before - and broken it.
"Her cunt lips look nice," Phil said in his crudity, massaging my swollen outer labia. "There's nothing I like more than a shaved cunt. I think I'll give her a good fuck."
"That's what she's here for!" Gary laughed. "You fuck her cunt, and then I'll have a go."
I said nothing as Phil slipped his trousers off and knelt behind me, behind my rudely exposed sex holes. There were no words; there was nothing to be said. All I could do was hang on in silent submissiveness. This was what I'd lowered myself to, a common slut who'd do anything for sperm. The devil's daughter?
"Beg Phil to fuck your cunt," Gary ordered me. "Come on, Helen; beg him to fuck your wet cunt."
"Fuck me," I sobbed as my pussy lips were crudely forced apart.
"Do it properly, Helen! Beg him to fuck your cunt!"
"Please, fuck my cunt."
My tears soaking into the carpet, I gasped as Phil forced the entire length of his solid penis deep into my spasming vagina. The chains clanking as he repeatedly withdrew and thrust his organ into me, I prayed that my horrendous ordeal would soon be over, that I'd have my fix and be allowed to go home. The marital home?
Ramming his huge sex-rod into my aching vagina, Phil gasped his expletives as Gary adjusted the nipple clamps, painfully squeezing and pinching my sensitive breast buds. I wondered when I'd be allowed to swallow sperm, when I'd be allowed the calm and tranquillity I yearned. I prayed for release from the cold grip of my addiction. All I could think about was sperm, swallowing the opaque liquid and then going home to a long, hot bath.
"I'm going to spunk!" Phil gasped, grabbing the chains fixed to the leather belt and using them as reins to pull my buttocks, my cunt, towards him, meeting his vigorous penile thrusts. His swollen knob battering my cervix, I sensed his sperm jetting, bathing and lubricating the enforced union. His heavy balls slapping my sex mound, his lower belly smacking against my burning buttocks, he crudely fucked me until he'd pumped out the last of his spunk.
At last, he withdrew his huge cock, allowing my vagina to shrink, my inner lips to close, sealing the entrance to my aching sex sheath. Now what? I wondered as fingers ran over my stinging buttocks. Was it Gary's turn to cunt-fuck me? Or would he mouth-fuck me, allow me my drug?
My eyes closed, my head held to the floor by the dog chain, I sensed movement behind me, behind my indecently exposed holes. A tongue licked my anus, my arsehole, waking sleeping nerve endings, sending electrifying sensations of crude sex through my tethered body. Fingers wiping the sperm from my dripping cunt, running up the crease between my buttocks and lubricating my anal entrance, I grimaced. It was Gary; it had to be - Gary, the anal pervert.
His knob pressing against the tightly closed entrance to my inner core, trying to gain entry to my bowels, I was sinking ever-deeper into the bottomless well of sexual debauchery. I had never wanted this again, anal sex, anal abuse. But I had no choice; I was to be crudely arse-fucked in return for sperm.
His cock suddenly penetrated me, opened me and drove deep into my tight rectal duct. His heavy balls caressing my swollen vaginal lips, my anal ring stretched tautly around the base of his huge penis, I wondered at the laws of morality. Man made laws, or the laws of God?
Deep inside my bowels, I sensed his glans swell and throb. He began his thrusting, his arse-fucking, jolting my chained body, bringing me lewd sensations of debased sex. It felt as if his cock was driving into the very centre of my body, almost into my stomach. Belly slapping buttocks, balls smacking cunt lips, knob gliding in and out of my arsehole... debased, vile, perverted sex.
"Fuck me; you're a tight-arsed whore!" Gary breathed. "We'll give you a bloody good arse-whipping after I've spunked up your bum!" Inspiration to paint? Did this inspire me to paint erotica? I imagined it did. Filth.
"And a cleavage fuck!" Phil rejoined, finally recovering from his coming.
"We'll fuck every hole until your oozing with spunk!"
Every hole, mouth-fuck. I couldn't wait much longer for my fix. My heart palpitating as never before, I felt as if I was leaving my body, floating above myself. The cucumber forced deep into my neglected cunt quickly brought me back to reality. My pelvic cavity felt like a balloon, bloated, stretched. Two huge shafts shafting me, jolting my naked body, I thought I'd split open.
"A two-hole fuck!" Phil laughed, thrusting the fruit in and out of my inflamed, sperm-brimming vagina. Did I want a three-hole fuck? A mouth fucking. I yearned for sperm, for an orgasming knob in my mouth. I had to swallow sperm; I imagined I'd die without it!
My nipples sore and aching, my tear-streaked face pressed against the carpet, my body had never known such abuse. I was a prostitute. The chains clanking, I imagined Tony behind me, gentle in his vaginal fucking, his loving. But no, he was the same as the rest, I'd convinced myself. He was probably in his hotel room with a prostitute, fucking her arsehole, spunking up her arse.
"Ah, God!" Gary cried as his sperm jetted from his slit, creaming my rectal tube. "I'm coming up your arse!" His orgasmic thrusts violent, he slapped my stinging buttocks as Phil crudely drove the cucumber in and out of my tightening cunt. The height of humiliation? The depth of degradation? No, this was nothing - as I was soon to discover.
My bowels filling, my eyes squeezed shut, I endured the obscene double shafting until Gary had drained his balls, satisfied his perverted lust. Again, I swore never to return to Gary's house, to the sex cell. Futile? There had to be a man I could have an affair with, a decent, loving man who
'd willingly allow me to suck him to orgasm and swallow his sperm. Could I love again after my degrading experience, give my cunt in the name of love? I imagined not.
I could no longer rely on Tony. Although he was due home before long, he'd soon be off again. Besides, I wasn't sure that I wanted him any more. Love? Love doesn't exist; it's a wrongful interpretation of lust by mankind. I'd always thought Tony and I were as one in love, but his love of money had left me loveless, lustful and spermless.
"Christ, I needed that!" Gary gasped as he dragged his cock out of my spermed bottom-sheath. "OK, now we'll..."
"Now I need my fix!" I cried as Phil slipped the hot cucumber out of my sore cunt.
"All in good time, Helen!" Gary chuckled, slapping my stinging buttocks with his palm. "There's no rush."
No rush? I was supposed to be working, take my fix and then work on my erotic painting - my filthy painting. "This should be interesting," Gary said, taking something from the small table. Both men kneeling behind me, my buttocks crudely parted, something hard and cold was forced into my bottom-hole. "It's an anal speculum!" Gary chuckled as he did something to the device. My anal entrance slowly opening, I gasped.
"Please, no, Gary!"
"I'm going to open you up, Helen - open you so wide that we'll both be able to force our cocks up your arse."
"No, you mustn't!"
"After this, I'll allow you your fix."
"No, no!"
My screams went unheard as my anus opened wider, exposing my most intimate, inner rectal flesh to my abusers' eyes. Satan was inciting them, he must have been. What man would do this to a defenceless woman unless he was possessed by the Devil? What god would give a woman an addiction like mine? There was no God. There was no love. Filth and sexual abuse reigned. Satan ruled.
"Satan!" I gasped in my fear and panic, although I didn't know why. The dreadful word racked my mind as a finger probed within my open duct, massaging the velveteen walls of my rectum.
"I give my arsehole in the name of Satan!" Gary laughed as the finger entered me further. "Go on, Helen, say it. In the name of Satan, I give my arsehole."