THE COLLECTOR

THE COLLECTOR

The stripper finds herself in a precarious position as she faces her initiation on the peg.  Bound, pierced and skewered, she’s getting an extended education just as he promised.

Chapter Two

       Forced to precariously balance her taut glistening body on only her left leg, its foot snugly strapped into a red leather ten inch stiletto at least a size too small, her chest visibly pounds with each heartbeat as her terror stricken eyes dart from the full length mirror across from her to around the small chamber.  The nightmarish reflection of the sadistic mounting of her practically unrecognizable body, hair cropped short and bleached, the bright red ‘O’ ring stretching her lips so wide she can’t swallow just adds to the surreal situation she finds herself in as the toe of the stiletto trembles on the top of the narrow tubular peg raising a foot or so above the checker boarded tile floor beneath her.

       Virtually naked, her right knee bowed out in front of her at a forty-five degree angle with her ankle cuffed and raised by a short six inch chain up to a black patent-leather strap secured around her upper thigh, the spiked heel of the matching stiletto on her right foot points straight back just below her rippling buttocks.  Shoulders arched back by closely connected black cuffs affixed to her biceps behind her back, her wrists cuffed and crisscrossed up behind her neck forces her head to tilt slightly back as the pair of silver ‘O’ rings glisten from the nubs of her freshly pierced and swollen nipples, her discolored globes lifting and separating from the tension of thin guide wires stretching apart toward the ceiling from narrow black leather straps snuggly embedded in the flesh of the base of both her breasts.

       A third wire finishes her mounted position.  It tautly stretches out and upward from the silver ‘O’ ring of her pierced clitoris, that matching guide wire rising to the same eyelets supporting the other pair of wires.  Painfully balancing under the tension of the trio of sadistically mounted wires, the pain shifting from one flexing wire to the other, her left leg trembles with fatigue, the calf on the verge of knotting, her thigh muscle rippling as the tip of toe of the stiletto searches for the quarter sized flat area of the peg.

       Her mind clearing, the memory of her abduction faint, the cutting and bleaching of her hair, the piercings all done as she was still basically semiconscious.  Being bound and mounted are the only things she actually vividly recalls.  Glancing toward the mirror, her hair, the mouth gag, the thin wires attached to her pain wrecked naked body as she struggles to balance on the peg on one leg, all must be a nightmare.

       Watching his latest trophy’s almost disoriented suffering on the chamber’s monitor as he relaxes, he leans back and slowly rocks in his leather chair.  Another perfect abduction, the evidence of the crime flawlessly handled down to the forged license plates on the Mercedes in case of any surveillance equipment in the area, even the water based black paint pressure washed from the now silver car that will soon be sold to an overseas wholesaler friend, and just the first of his adrenaline rushes have been enjoyed.

       The girl’s struggling image on his vivid monitor screen, the sound of the audio picking up her slightest whimper, even the ‘twanging’ of the wires as they flex with her swaying body seems to highlight the excitement of the early stages of her abduction.  Then, again, it always does.  The hunt, the initial terror, introducing them to his various imaginative exercises gives him the greatest satisfaction, in that order.

       Still relaxing, glancing at a couple of his other monitors, at the modified images of the other two trophies he still has in his possession, each in a separate, private room, each awaiting a new exercise or modification, each without the slightest hope of deliverance from their predicament.  Glancing from one camera shot to the other, he enjoys the memories of those hunts.  Abducted a few weeks or so apart, he thinks of the enjoyment of the initial first two or three weeks of breaking, molding them.  Then the urge, the beginning of another couple weeks on the prowl for new game as the process seems to continue all over again.

       Doing the abductions himself now instead of hiring them out’s become invigorating.  Now it seems, the urge to hunt again is starting to overshadow the enjoyment of his efforts of training them to submit, to accept their fates.  Feisty, strong willed women that take time to break are always the most pleasurable to handle.  But, they always do and boredom sets in.  Overseas brothels are full of them, of his searches.

       Glancing back to his latest project, the tears are noticeable tracing down her cheeks.  Mixing with the drool of saliva dripping between her bound, cone shaped breasts lifting, separating apart as the guide wires stretch upward, the incandescent ceiling lights cast shadows across the under globes of both breasts even as the nipple rings, larger in circumference then her dark areolas, sparkle.

       Glancing at the clock, quickly figuring she’s already been mounted in that pose for over an hour, he buzzes the intercom.  “Come in here… I need you for a moment.”

       His office door opening, his assistant steps in.  Early thirtyish, long dark hair drawn back flowing freely behind her shoulders from a tie fastened high behind her head, she’s more then attractive, a lot more.  A one piece black latex dress, low cut, high hemmed with slits up both thighs, her obviously augmented body oozes sensuality as she approaches in her four inch black heels.

       “Yes Sir?”

       Nodding toward the oversize monitor, toward his latest abducted, he slides a drawer open in his desk.  Slipping a package out, laying it across the desktop, he unwraps its contents.  “Lets see… Three… Five… Six.”  Sliding them together, handing them to the assistant, he nods again toward the monitor.  “Three through each breast… All the way… And… Nice and deep… You want to do it this time??”

       “Oh… Yes Sir!  Reaching out, gripping, handling the half dozen skewers, more like small arrows at least ten inches in length, she nods with just a hint of a grin on her face.  “Symmetrical I take it… Spread ‘em out?”

       “Yea… Evenly spaced!”  He answers.  “And… Don’t even say a word to her… Just step in and start working those tits… Then leave her.”

       Glancing toward the monitor, back toward him, she nods with a hint of a gleam in her eye as she tries to hold back a smile, keep a stern look.  “Anything else Sir?... That it for now?”

       “No… That’s all… Remember, let her scream… Whatever.”  He adds.  “Then leave her when you’re done.”

       “Thank you Sir!... Thank you!”

       Leaning back in his chair, focusing on the screen, he hears his door shut as he’s left alone.  Having her has been a plus he thinks to himself, of the couple years now she’s been his perfect submissive, even as he’s begun her training as a Dominatrix.  Actually, she’s been the only one so far worth keeping.

       Glancing toward the corner, toward the bar, he decides he has time to mix a beverage.  Stepping toward the bar, a little ice, a shot or two of vodka, a swirl of orange juice and he makes his way back to his chair.  Relaxing back, taking a sip, he catches a glimpse of the door opening on the monitor.  The image of his assistant stepping around his trophy, positioning herself directly in front of her, holding the skewers in a tight bundle in her left hand is crystal clear on his HD monitor.  Leaning forward in his chair he concentrates on the expression of the bound girl.

       Wide eyed, grunting through her ‘O’ ring, the young stripper stares pleadingly toward the dark haired, black dressed woman facing her.  Not able to help from seeing the glistening, hideously long needles in the woman’s hand, the evil smirk on her face, the slow deliberate separating of a single needle into her other hand, she holds her breath, her naked body trembling as the tip of the lone needle’s dragged across the outer curve of her bound right globe.

       The fresh piercing already throbbing through the bud of her nipple as the heavy ‘O’ ring dangles across her areola, the needle scrapes across her outer globe.   The positioning of the razor sharp tip pointed directly inward and held still pricks but not yet pierces the swollen tit flesh sending shivers up her spine as her supporting knee trembles, her naked body swaying from the flexing guide wires as they stretch at her breasts and clit.

       Muttering through the saliva drooling from the shimmering red oval of the ‘O’ ring, unable to jerk or even twist away as her toe quivers across the minuscule flat surface of the peg, she can’t fathom the cruelness of the dark haired woman, the lack of expression on her face as she grips her fingers around the bulging globe, sadistically forces the needle inward.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  The piercing, the plunging, the ramming of the skewer into the depth of her tit flesh, the continuous jab, thrusting of the razor sharp steel probing painfully deeper from the outer curve of her swollen breast until the outline of the tip probes against flesh of the inner curve of the tortured globe.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!”  Completing the forceful jab, the tip of the skewer probes, pierces through, the tinged needle completing its journey, the dripping tip exposed across her crimson tinged sternum.

       Terrified, she frantically watches the dark haired woman step to the other side of her trembling body, another single skewer in her hand as her bound left breast is gripped, the tip of the needle probing, jamming into that tit flesh.  “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!”  The stripper reflexively shuddering as she screams, her toe twists with her leg curling across the slick surface of the peg as the searing pain resonates through her heaving chest.  That nipple ring jerking, smacking across her aching areola, the needle continues its constant pressure until it too audibly ‘plops’ through the other side.  “Aaaggghhh!!”  Another muffed screech as the guide wires tautly jerk at the leather bindings buried in the discolored bases of her stretching breasts.

       His drink down to bare ice, casually twisting in his chair, stepping toward the bar he listens to the sounds from the monitor of the ongoing piercings as he pours another drink, another heavy on the vodka screwdriver.  Taking a sip as he stirs the ice with his finger, he hears more screeches, inaudible pleadings from the stripper girl as he steps back toward his desk.  Smiling to himself as he sits and leans back, he thinks to himself how much more he used to enjoy just what his assistant’s doing now.  Now, letting this beautiful woman do some of the preliminaries on his trophies is just as satisfying, especially knowing she’ll show her appreciation to him as soon as she’s done.

       Again focusing in on the screen, having already heard a number of pitiful screams and groans as he mixed his drink, meaning the skewers should be pretty well impaled in those youthful melons, he catches just the end of the sixth and last one being centered and glided through the bare breasts.  Watching the girl’s body shimmering, perspiration beading, tracing across her naked flesh as her chest and ribcage is covered with the slightest tinge of crimson, he’s satisfied with the perfectly placed skewers forming a six pointed circle around both breasts.

       Watching his assistant do as directed, leave the girl alone, never a word spoken, he’s also impressed with his trophy.  Most abducted girls can’t handle that regiment without slipping, being hung by their naked breasts while being skewered.  Grinning, nodding toward the monitor, toward the terrorized girl, he raises his glass, toasts her before chugging the remainder of the vodka, chewing the final pieces of ice while casually setting the empty glass on the desk.

       Her flattened stomach flexing, her leg muscles rippling as she balances on the peg by swaying back and forth from one stretching breast to another as the skewers glisten under the lighting, the pain of the knotting muscles in her leg are actually more of a concern then the needles piercing her breasts.  Struggling to remain on the peg, the leather bindings buried deep in her tit flesh, her scrambled thoughts hardly registers as she borders on slipping into midair.  Swaying, the wires tugging at he tortured breasts, her clit stretching, twisting from between her thighs, the tears mix with her saliva, drools off her chin to mingle with the crimson splotches across her sternum as her foot slips from the peg.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  The gurgling scream’s barely audible as her foot struggles to find the peg.  Her bent leg jerking, her free leg flailing, she struggles as the guide wires stretch from the ceiling.  Each jerking motion jolts through her breasts, clit as she chokes on her saliva, chews at the ‘O’ ring.  Exhausted, struggling less, the pain seems more bearable as slumping back, closing her eyes, she feels her tortured body reflexively twitching.

       Slowly twisting as the pain envelopes her naked body, the three wires tautly sway as her head slopes back, her bulging, discolored breasts oozing trickles of blood from the skewers as her left leg hangs down, twitches.  Her thighs arching outward with the taut wire tugging at the clit ring, she boarders on unconsciousness, a respite of relief.

End Part 2