by Syra Bond
He stared down at me a moment before taking hold of my wrists and securing them inside the leather loop hanging above the door. It pinched my skin and I gasped in discomfort as he twisted the strap painfully tight. Then he took hold of my left ankle and slipped my foot into the strap on the opposite side of the car, leaving me stretched out with my arms pulled up on one side and one leg drawn up on the other.
I heard Galen telling him to undo his trousers and twisted my hips slightly - my master had not ordered me to be still - and felt moisture running freely at the centre of my vulnerable pussy. I felt a touch of heat, a subtle burning as the tip of his erection touched me. The soft petals of my labia opened to receive it, parting slowly and expanding around its girth as it slipped inside me. The veins on its surface beat against my delicate flesh, pulsating rhythmically and sending me into a strange, nervous trance. I could still hear Galen’s words as though he was a conductor orchestrating our every movement, every thrust, every tightening of the bonds at my wrists and ankle. But then even his commands were lost to me, swallowed up by the shivers of ecstasy coursing through my body and flooding my mind. I was mesmerised, caught up in a bizarre dream, as if the real world had been suspended and I was living out some kind of half-waking reverie.
The young driver rammed into me roughly, angrily. His hips grazed against the insides of my thighs as he shoved his cock as deep inside me as he possibly could. Every jolt of the cab buried him even deeper between my legs as his rigid penis swelled and pulsed in time with his hands squeezing my buttocks. He dug his fingers into my tender flesh, holding my left cheek as hard as he could, bracing himself on it as he pounded into me.
Then he began spanking me with his other hand, and my right buttock burned beneath every smack of his open palm as his frenzy increased and the force and pace of his blows intensified. My pussy was fully stretched around him, and I felt as though I would die from the terrible pleasure as he erupted inside me with a prolonged burst of hot spunk that seemed to scald my insides. He spanked me a few more times as the last drops of semen trickled from his engorged glans, but the blows were not so fierce and I was so sore I could hardly feel them any more.
Then, suddenly, he twisted me sideways, shoved his knee beneath my hip, and started spanking me again with renewed fervour. I cried out in pain and climaxed violently as the flat of his hand kept beating relentlessly down on my burning bottom.
I must stop writing now. I suffered the impression suddenly that what I was setting down on paper would not please him, and now I cannot go on. I do not know what I can do though, for it is all the truth and he told me I must only write exactly what happened and exactly how I felt. Nevertheless, I feel he will not like what I have said and I am paralysed by fear and indecision.
Chapter 8
This time when I handed him my work he smiled as though what he read pleased him. I did not trust him, however, so I did not smile back in case he was making an effort to trick me into believing he approved of my efforts. I was still concerned I had been doing wrong, that my story was not what he wanted from me. I waited impatiently, and yet seemingly quite patiently, while he read. I sat up straight even though he did not tell me to, and I did not move because I thought my being still would placate any anger my words might inspire in him. I could not stop myself worrying about what he might say and the nervous clenching of my stomach, for I had used the word cunt again, and more than once.
Finally, he set the pages down on the floor and asked me if I wanted to suck him. I was not sure what to say or do. It seemed impossible for me to make a decision. Why had he not just commanded me to suck me? I felt ashamed that I had believed myself cured. How could I be better if I could not decide how to answer him? Suddenly, without thinking, as though being mindless was the only way of effectively directing my actions, I dropped onto all fours and pressed my face clumsily against his groin. I struggled to undo his trousers, panicking because they would not come undone, but as I took hold of his cock and started licking his cool glans, he pulled himself away abruptly and stood up.
As he left he shook his head in despair and I felt he was condemning me as a lost cause, as hopeless and beyond redemption, and I knew I had failed again. I should have shown him I could resist. Of course, that was what he was checking to see, what he was trying to find out, if I could hold back, and I had failed the test dismally. I hoped he would not give up on me. I prayed he would not abandon me, not now, not after all I had been through, not after I had come this far.
I waited for him to return, sitting up straight against the wall beside the door, trying to please him even though he could not see me. I thought that when he came back and found me there he would be pleased with me and would let me suck him, not as a test but as a reward for my good behaviour.
When he finally did return, he brought extra paper and some fresh pencils. He placed them at the opposite corner of the room away from the door, and told me to start working again straightaway, and not stop until he returned again. I crawled across the floor on my hands and knees as he stood by the door watching me, and when he closed it, I huddled in the corner and began writing again.
I was dozing, and woke up with a start when the taxi driver opened the door the next morning. It had not been locked. I do not remember when Galen left, when either of them left, all I know is I was alone all night, tied up in an unlocked cab parked in a dimly lit district of the city, at the mercy of anyone who happened to pass by and felt like making use of my body. It seemed a miracle no one at all had molested me.
The driver leered in where I hung, still stretched out between the two leather straps, my skirt pulled up around my waist, dried semen glistening on the insides of my thighs. I felt ashamed of my exposed and vulnerable position and tried to bring my free leg up to protect myself from his gaze, but he pushed it down. My arms and leg were numb and my bottom was still throbbing dully from the vicious spanking he had given me. He slipped into the back, knelt between my thighs and unzipped his trousers. I kicked out at him with my free leg and writhed against the seat in an effort to force him away. He sat back, startled by my resistance. He clearly assumed he could take me again, as though we had become lovers. I kicked out at him again, but this time he slipped an arm beneath my hips, lifted my bottom and spanked me hard. I knew it was punishment for refusing him, for holding back, and as the stinging pain merged with the aching need in my pussy, I felt my muscles relaxing and went limp to let him know I was ready for him now.
He noticed my capitulation, but did not stop spanking me, swatting his hand down harder with every blow he subjected me to. I bit my lip and waited, knowing he would not stop until he saw the glow of jagged redness produced by a hard and deliberate spanking. Finally he dropped me against the seat, pulled his cock out, leaned over me and forced himself into my mouth. I sucked him, taking him deep between my lips, and as soon as his throbbing tip grazed the back of my throat I felt the surge of his orgasm. I prepared to swallow his seed, but he pulled out of my mouth and sprayed it all over my throat and vest. Then he zipped up his trousers, got out of the taxi again and slammed the door behind him.
I closed my eyes, frightened and excited, wondering what would happen to me next as I imagined a total stranger opening the door and using me...
He slipped into the driver’s seat and drove the cab out of the derelict area where it had sat all night with me bound helplessly inside. I felt shy about anyone looking in and seeing me, still tied with my legs spread out across the back seat, my buttocks red from a fresh spanking and my vest damp and sticky with semen. Every corner we turned made my stomach churn with nerves as I dreaded people looking in and gawping and pointing at me. The thought was unbearable.
The cab stopped suddenly at the end of a narrow alley, and leaning out of the window the driver shouted at two men who stood talking beside a dustbin. I shivered as a dark feeling of foreboding welled up inside me. I twisted my wrists frantically
against the restraining strap, but it would not loosen; I was held fast.
The two men approached the car, laughing and shoving each other playfully, very much like excited schoolboys. One was taller than the other, and it was he who bent down to speak to the driver. He peered into the back, and saw me still struggling against the straps. For a second I glared, challenging him, and when he reached in through the window and grabbed my ankle I turned my face towards the seat and struggled wildly. But the straps still did not give and my efforts only caused my limbs to ache even more.
The other man leaned down to stare at me through the back window, and I knew I was to be their victim. There was no escape. They would do with me whatever they desired. I pulled against the strap holding my wrists just to feel the tension, just to feel how restrained I was, just to relish the impossibility of freeing myself. I stretched my fingers and twisted my body, writhing like a captive animal slung on a pole borne by natives, the prize of a successful hunt.
The back door opened, and to me it sounded like the creaking of a door to a condemned person’s cell. I shivered as I felt a draft of air against my skin and a warm hand touched my free ankle, its fingers wrapping around it and forming a tight, living manacle. I shook my leg, trying to kick the hand away, but its grip only tightened relentlessly. I pressed my face against the seat, bit my lip and kicked again with all my strength. This time I succeeded in breaking the grip of the man holding me, and he actually groaned in pain as my foot sank into some soft part of his anatomy.
I sensed their anger, but also their indecision. They seemed unable to decide just how much force to use against me. They were unsure of themselves, and I took advantage of their weakness to kick again as hard as I could. I heard a curse and felt more of their uncertainty, but also more of their anger. Someone pulled at my ankle hanging from the leather strap, and although my leg flexed and twisted, my ankle stayed fixed firmly in place... until I suddenly felt the strap give slightly.
I was like a prisoner glimpsing a chink of light in the wall of her dark cell; the slight slackening of my bonds suddenly gave me hope. I screwed my eyes shut and kicked with all my strength, gasping and panting from the strain. I kicked frantically, exhausting myself as I heard the men shouting at me and at each other, but I did not feel their hands on me. I stopped struggling for a second to listen as a cornered animal might pause, its heart hammering against its ribs, seconds before it is caught by wolves. I could hear nothing, and then suddenly they pressed my face down against the seat and all I could think about was how they were planning to fuck me, and how often.
My pussy was helplessly exposed, its soft depths utterly open to them, and I felt their hungry eyes on it. I squirmed, but now I did not consider trying to escape. I tensed my muscles against what was coming, but the tightening of my thighs and the pulling together of my buttocks only served to increase the moistening glow of anticipation in my cunt.
The leather strap around my wrists was undone, but immediately my free leg was pulled up with the other one and firmly secured. They lifted my face away from the seat and draped my head and shoulders back over the seat towards the floor of the taxi. I hung suspended on the strap by my ankles, panting and frightened, my head spinning. Rough hands groped my buttocks, feeling their smooth surface and the taut tension below the skin, and then a hand forced itself between my thighs, creating a big enough space to enable another hand to press flat against my pussy. I swallowed my fear as fingers probed me, searching out the conventional entrance to my body before working back and fingering my anus. Then I gasped in pain as a punishing hand fell across my buttocks. One man spanked me as the other knelt on the seat and held his cock down in front of my face. I watched it throbbing as he rubbed it, and as his companion spanked me faster and harder I obediently flicked my tongue out and licked the swollen glans looming over me. I touched the tip of the stranger’s erection and felt its heat, tasting the salty tang as it ran like a flood up its length and out through the sensitive rift. I licked it, my tongue keeping breathless time with the spanking hand making my bottom burn unbearably, and as I caught the white wave of sperm cresting out of the pulsing cock pressing against my lips, I felt another rush of viscous liquid running down my bottom cheeks and slipping into their cleft. The man kept spanking me as he came, smacking his open palm against his own sticky semen as it trickled over my buttocks and between my cheeks.
As if in a dream I heard the cab door slam shut, and they were gone. Then the taxi was moving again.
I managed to wriggle my ankles out of the strap and sit up, my head spinning. Miraculously I found a clean tissue on the seat and wiped my sticky face and buttocks with it. I sat up straighter, and winced as contact with the seat stung my aching bottom. I eased my skirt down and sat with my cheek resting against the cool window frame, staring intently out at the world as warm air blew threw my hair. Instead of feeling ashamed, I felt serene and expectant, as if I was being taken somewhere secret and very special on the orders of my mysterious master. I watched the city streets flash by like photographs in an album. I looked at the crowds gathered together in knots outside cafes, I saw tourists holding their cameras to their eyes and lovers embracing with the keenness of new romance. I was intrigued that none of these people knew what was happening to me. All of them were unaware of my daring contract with Galen, of the bargain I had made with him to expose myself to all my fears and risk everything to conquer them and unleash my deepest, darkest desires.
By the time we pulled up outside Galen’s house it was very hot. The driver waited for me to get out of the cab, and then led the way, still without deigning to look at me. I felt as though I had misbehaved and was now being taken to my master’s lair to be punished. I hung my head, trying to show my shame, and my stomach filled with excited butterflies. I pictured myself as a servant girl being marched to the master’s study for a caning. I tugged my skirt down as far as I could as if trying to protect my naked bottom from what I knew it was about to receive, perfectly aware that he would lift my skirt before the punishment began. My flesh tingled with anticipation and I felt the pressure of my hardening nipples against the thin material of my vest.
Galen was standing at the foot of the spiral staircase. The taxi driver walked straight over to him. My master held up his hand, instructing me to wait at a distance. My stomach churned with excitement again as I watched the driver speak to him, directly in his ear. They both looked over at me a couple of times during the brief conversation, and then Galen patted him on the shoulder and pressed some money into his hand. The driver smiled, and without looking at me again, left the house.
Galen slowly ran his fingers through his hair. He pursed his lips as if considering my fate, and his dark eyes were obscured as he narrowed them in pensive consternation. I imagined him wondering how many strokes of the cane to give me, whether I had been sufficiently disobedient to deserve six or whether I should only get four. I looked around to see what he might tell me to bend over, but there was no particularly suitable furniture in sight. Perhaps he would make me bend over and hold my ankles, a position that would make my bottom taut and vulnerable. Or perhaps he would order me onto my hands and knees on the marble bench. The smoothness of the stone would be perfect. I could pull my vest up and bare my breasts and lie across it relishing the cold hardness against my nipples. I would let him pull up my skirt as high as he wanted, and I would feel the thin material folding across my bottom as he bared it in readiness for my deserved punishment. I would tighten my buttocks together so the cane would strike only them, so the delicate flesh of my pussy would be protected, and the firmness of my clenched bottom cheeks would make the strokes land even more painfully. My lips were dry imagining all this, and as I licked them I felt the warmth of my breath as it passed over them in anxious gasps of anticipation.
He approached me, still scratching his head in a theatrical parody of perplexity, which strangely enough struck me as genuine. Perhaps
he was not sure what to punish me for, since I had misbehaved so much lately. My resistance back in the cab was a mistake. I knew that now. But I had been taken by surprise then, not realising Galen did not need to be present in order for me to obey him. Yet I did not want to apologise, to wriggle out of my punishment. I wanted to be chastised. I wanted to be caned, to be bent over and painfully humiliated for my behaviour. I wanted the taxi driver to come back and watch me being beaten, and if Galen ordered, I wanted him to also take the cane and thrash me for as long as he wanted to.
My handsome master finally smiled and nodded at me knowingly. ‘Syra, my pet, what have you been doing? You have not been doing what you promised me you would. Have you? You have not been truly bad. You have been resisting your wickedness and fearing it, haven’t you?’
I wanted to say I was sorry and that it would not happen again. I wanted to tell him I would take my punishment now and do better in the future, but my throat was too dry to enable me to speak.
‘I wonder why this is?’ he continued, almost as if talking to himself. ‘Have you forgotten your contract with me? Surely not.’
I wanted to pull up my vest, bend over the marble bench and take my punishment as I pressed my breasts against the cold stone, but he had not told me to move, so I did not move.
‘Answer me, Syra.’
‘It was only at first,’ I explained quietly, ‘because you were not there. I did not want to do anything unless you told me to do it... and you were not there...’
‘Syra, my pet, don’t you realise yet that I am always there? There is nothing you can do now that I have not instructed you to do.’ He sighed dramatically. ‘Really, Syra, you can be so innocent. Do you think I would have left you alone by mistake?’
I felt incredibly stupid. Unable to meet his hypnotically dark gaze, I walked towards the bench and looked down at it. I rubbed my hand across my belly, lifting the bottom edge of my vest slightly, waiting to be told to bare my breasts so the punishment I craved could begin. Being caned was all I could think of.