4.
Having finished his drink, Mike decided it was time to go back upstairs to
Martine. The sight of her, as he opened the door, was quite something: legs wide
apart, her knees slightly bent, wrists securely fastened to her upper arms, near
the shoulders, the red ball-gag on its black strap highlighting her face, her
heavy tits slightly uplifted by the position of her arms, she really was a
turn-on and his prick, which had somewhat dozed off under the effects of the
alcohol, immediately jumped to attention. He felt a really strong desire to
shaft her as she stood, but once again he told himself that if he did so, the
weekend would come to a climax too quickly.
Instead, he decided that the time had come for a bit of humiliation. Going
behind her, he picked up the upright with the two cross-arms and the metal
half-circle and put it back into its slot in the flooring. Next he grabbed a
handful of hair and pulled her neck into the metal curve, fastening it in place
with the wide leather strap around her throat. A piece of twine was then tied to
a lock of hair on the top of her head, the other end being tied to the vertical
bar, which was somewhat taller than the girl. Thus attached, she could only look
straight ahead. A thin cord coming from a ceiling hook screwed securely into the
big oak beam overhead was tied to the wristband around her left wrist, the
fastening attaching it to her upper arm released and her hand drawn up into the
air, off to her side. He then did exactly the same thing with her right arm and
there she was, spread out in a large X, head held high, her body widely
available.
Mike moved to a little table and picked up an instrument, which he held up n
front of the girl's face. Martine tried to scream, overtaken by a feeling of
sheer terror. The instrument was a shiny, cutthroat razor with an ivory handle.
As he twisted it in front of her the lights sparkled on the gleaming blade. To
Martine it was an instrument from hell, the proof that she had been crazy to
agree to Mike's idea of punishment. What was he going to do with that
evil-looking blade? She had no clear ideas, but she knew that she was really in
trouble.
Mike grinned to himself behind the mask, guessing what the girl was thinking.
After a minute of so, he said, "Martine, you have the most beautiful body, but
to my mind it is spoilt by the unsightly collection of hair between your thighs
and in your armpits, and I intend to do something about that right now," and he
waved the razor in front of her face again. Her first reaction was one of
relief, immediately followed by a gnawing question; was he capable of using that
deadly blade on her tender body without cutting her? She would soon find out.
Placing the razor back on the little table Mike picked up a cordless beard
trimmer, showed it to her, switched it on and set to work on her left armpit.
The machine made short work of the hair and he moved to the other one, and then
down between her legs. Here, he was careful to press the buzzing machine tightly
against her pubis, so that she could feel the vibration. She flinched as she
felt the hungry, scything teeth pass over her cunt-lips.
Next, he squirted shaving soap between her legs, rubbing it into her skin with
his fingers, massaging, rubbing, sliding his fingers perilously close to that
secret opening, moving towards it and then drawing away at the last instant,
teasing, frightening. After several minutes of this, she was not sure whether
she wanted him to stop, or to plunge his fingers into her. She was fairly sure
that her cunt was wet, hoped he wouldn't notice it.
Picking up a small towel, he dried his fingers, took the razor from the table
and waved it in front of her face again. "I've never used one of these before, "
he said, "I suppose I'll pick it up as I go along". Martine nearly fainted. She
had read lurid accounts of female circumcision in African countries and she felt
sure that something similar was going to happen to her. Mike crouched down, out
of her range of vision, placed the cutthroat on the floor between her legs,
picked up the plastic safety razor that he had deliberately dropped there.
Placing his left hand on her soft belly, he pulled the skin tight over her
pubis. "Now keep still, Martine, 'cos if you move this blade might get somewhere
it shouldn't."
There was no danger of her moving; the girl was totally paralysed with fear. She
sucked in a great breath and held it, waiting for the first touch of steel on
her tender and unprotected body. When the razor did finally touch her, she went
rigid. The blade slid smoothly down over her pubis, towards her pussy lips, and
as it did so she screamed silently inside her head. The movement was slow -
deliberately slow - going closer and closer to that delicate spot, the seat of
her sexual existence. Please God, don't let his hand slip, she prayed to
herself.
The stroke came to an end, without cutting her, and another one started. She
experienced the same feeling of terror, especially when the stroke went down
across her pussy-lip and almost up into the cleft between the cheeks of her ass.
It was even worse when she felt Mike's fingers pull her pussy-lips apart so that
he could shave their inner edges, when she felt the blade sweep across them, so
horribly close to her clitoris. The slightest movement and she would be the
female equivalent of a eunuch, she thought crazily to herself.
When her cunt was immaculately hairless, Mike straightened up and shaved her
armpits. At no time did she realise that he was not using the cutthroat razor.
When he had finished, and wiped her dry with the towel, she was overcome with a
fit of trembling. It was over, and she was intact. Thank God!
Mike stepped back and admired his handiwork. Her armpits were smooth, and
between her thighs the lips of her cunt, prettily pink, showed up well against
her pale skin. Much better than being hidden by that fleece of black hair, he
thought, at least now I can see where we are going. The thought made his prick
go even harder. He stretched out his hand and slid the tips of his fingers
around her cunt; the skin was beautifully smooth. As he caressed her, he saw
that the lips were glistening and he realised that she was sexually aroused.
"Little cow!" he thought, "And here was I thinking that she's frightened out of
her mind!" He was both right and wrong. Her body was aroused despite herself,
but she was also frightened, and the mixture of the two emotions was terribly
confusing to her young mind. On the whole, though, the feeling was one of
relief.
Mike could see that she had calmed down, so he decided it was time to do
something more rugged, bring her back to the realisation that she was being
punished. Untying her hair from the steel post, he bent down again, spread open
the lips of her cunt and started to massage her clitoris. The effect was
immediate; she felt an indescribable feeling starting to spread between her legs
and up through her belly, warm, diffuse, comforting. Her clitoris swelled up,
turning carmine, and he swore he could feel it throbbing between his fingers. He
held it at the base, between finger and thumb, sliding his fingers down towards
the tip, almost as though he were milking it. She forgot the terror of the past
few moments, her thoughts were hazy, she felt as though she were floating on a
cloud, the soothing feel of his fingers pervading her entire being.
When he judged that her clitoris had swollen to its maximum and that she had
been lulled into unawareness, Mike picked up a small, sharp-jawed spring-clamp
and held it over her organ, the long jaws on each side of it. Then he released
the clamp, letting the sharp teeth bite deeply into the sensitive - and
sensitised - clitoris.
The result was electric; the scream that burbled around the ball in her mouth
would have been clearly audible downstairs, had there been anyone there to hear
it! Where, a split second ago there had been pleasure, now there was pain, pain
scalding up into her belly, pain screaming between her thighs, pain tearing at
the very fabric of her sanity; unbearable pain, but she had to bear it, all her
twisting and turning and shaking failed to relieve her of it, it clung to her,
it was part of her. Her hips plunged back and forth, within the limits of their
constraints, in a lewd action that reminded Mike of those a woman normally makes
when she is making love, but here Martine was vainly trying to shake off the
clamp. To no avail; the tiny teeth, forced by the spring into the gorged flesh,
sent waves of pain shrieking up nerve paths to her head, where they exploded
like fireworks, searing balls of bright pain. Tiny drops of blood oozed out
between the teeth, and the pain went on and on.
Mike watched, fascinated, as the girl went into a paroxysm of struggles in her
attempts to relieve herself both of the clamp and of the pain. He wondered
whether the steel post was strong enough to hold her. But slowly, slowly, as her
body became accustomed to the assault, she calmed, she settled down, the
presence of the continuing pain betrayed solely by the odd twitch and her
staring eyes, eyes that saw only a haze of red, darkening towards black. The
pain was still there, but now it was almost - almost! - bearable. She didn't
quite black out, but it was a near thing.
Then, through the red pain-haze, she became aware that Mike was dangling
something before her eyes. When she finally focused, she saw that it was a
short, fairly thick piece of chain, with a hook at one end and a large weight at
the other. "Know what this is for? he asked her. "It's to hook on to that clamp
on your clit." She shook her head wildly - God, what was he trying to do, tear
it out by the roots! She tried again to beg for mercy, but the few sounds she
managed to make were unintelligible.
He bent down, slipped the hook through the loop on the clamp and let it take all
the weight. "Aieeeeeeeeeeeeh!!!" she screamed around the gag, as the pain came
flooding back like a dam bursting. "Noooooooooooo!!! Pleeeeeeeeeese stop!!!" It
did indeed feel as though her clitoris was being pulled out by the roots, plus
the burning of the clamp teeth as they scored the tender flesh. Pure agony,
multiplied many times as Mike set the heavy weight swinging. It was more than
she could take and she soon slumped in her bonds, unconscious.
Seeing this, Mike unhooked the weight and took the clamp off her clitoris. He
could always start again, he thought, looking at the flecks of blood on the
teeth. Better clean it up before he did so.
While the girl was still out he freed her from her bonds, picked her up and
carried her across the heavy wooden chair she had seen when she first looked
round the room. Sitting her in it, he strapped her in tight: shoulders, elbows,
wrists, waist, knees and ankles, with her legs once more wide apart. He pulled
her head back so that it rested on a wooden headrest fixed to the back of the
chair and held it in place with a strap round her forehead. Then he slapped her
face several times to bring her round.
Martine came to, sitting in the chair, her head uncomfortably bent over
backwards, with Mike looking down at her.
"Bedtime, sweetheart" he said gaily. "Time for your sleeping pill. Only trouble
is, I have to persuade you to swallow it. No problem, we'll use the old
force-feeding routine."
Going over to the table, he picked up a shiny metal object and came back to
stand beside her. "This is a modification of an instrument dentists use to keep
patients' mouths open, " he said. "This little clamp fits over the teeth in your
upper jaw, and this one over the teeth in your lower jaw. These two threaded
rods here, when I turn them, force the jaws apart. You can't get rid of the
clamp if it is opened wide enough, 'cos you can't open your jaws any further."
So saying, he fit the clamp into her mouth and started to open it, turning one
rod a few turns at a time, then the other one. Soon her jaws were stretched wide
open. Unbuckling the strap round her neck, he took out the ball gag. The result
was a wide-open mouth, available for anything he wanted to put into it. From the
table he now took a yard-long metal tube, about an inch and a half in diameter,
and a tube of Vaseline. He squeezed some onto the tube and then started to rub
it all over the tube.
"Tell me, Martine, " he said, "have you ever seen a sword swallower? Why do you
think they always tilt their head back before swallowing the sword? So that the
rigid blade has a straight passage down through their throat and on into their
stomach. Just as you are at this moment. We can pretend that this tube is the
sword," and he grinned wickedly behind the mask. "I'm told that it is a very
unpleasant experience if you've never done it before." And so saying, he
introduced the end of the tube into the girl's gaping mouth. Carefully, slowly,
he let the tube sink down into her throat. The feeling was indeed horrible, she
wanted to choke, and couldn't. She had trouble breathing, it was awful. Slowly
the tube went lower and lower, until it stopped, the end of it resting on the
pit of her stomach.
"Here's where you learn some self-control," said Mike. "I am going to unstrap
your forehead. You will have to keep your head back all by yourself, even if it
does hurt your neck. If you don't..." He didn't finish the sentence, but rather
unbuckled the strap holding her head. Her immediate reaction has to straighten
up, in order to take the strain off her neck. Of course, as she did so the tube
in her throat hurt her. She was forced to bend her head back to place it on the
headrest, only to find that the latter had gone, taken off by Mike She felt
terrified, helpless, it was as though she had lost all control of her life - as
indeed she had, temporarily. Her head was bent back, neck aching, throat
hurting.
"Well," said Mike, I think I'll wander downstairs and get you something to wash
the sleeping pill down. Don't want you wandering around the house all on your
own while I'm asleep, do we? Don't go away now!", and chuckling he left the
room.
Left alone once more, neck and throat aching, clitoris throbbing painfully,
Martine wondered what Mike would do next. A sleeping pill? It sounded ominous.
It was obvious that he was taking a lot of pleasure in hurting her, and also
that he wasn't ready to stop any time soon. Why couldn't he just rape her, in
the usual manner. Not, mind you, that it would really be rape, if she wanted it,
would it? She wished, for the fiftieth time, that she had never gone into his
office!
When Mike came back he was carrying a big jug of ice water with tiny bits of
crushed ice floating around in it, a funnel and a little cardboard box. Opening
the box, he showed her the contents, nine little pills. "Three for each night,"
he said. "They're a present from a chemist friend, guaranteed to keep you out
for eight hours. We'll wash them down with a couple or three pints of ice water,
that should give you a nice little stomach cramp to occupy you while you're
dropping off."
He fitted the funnel into the end of the tube, slipped in the three pills and
then started carefully pouring the water into it. It took some time to empty the
big jug, and when he had finished she felt the beginning of cramps, together
with a bloated feeling.
"There we are, he said, "all ready for bye-byes. I've fixed you up a
steel-framed bed in the alcove next door, but don't worry, we've still got
another three days to play games."
He undid all the straps holding her in the chair, but Martine gripped the arms
with her hands, desperately. She was terribly afraid that if she moved she would
hurt herself again. Mike grabbed a lock of hair and pulled, forcing her to her
feet. She put her hands round her throat, as if to protect it. He forced her to
walk towards another door, half-hidden in the corner. She thought she could feel
the ice-water sloshing around inside her and the cramps in her stomach were
being to fell really unpleasant. On the other side of the door there was a small
alcove, with a steel-framed bed and a mattress. He pushed her down until she was
sitting on the edge of the bed. "Put your hands behind you," he ordered her.
When she didn't obey, still wanting to protect her throat, he again seized a
nipple and started squeezing. Quickly she put her hands behind her back. "That's
better," he said, and started to pull the tube out of her throat. The feeling
was worse, if that were possible, that when he had put it in.
When he had finished he made her lie down and chained one wrist to the head of
the bed, one ankle to the foot of it and finished by throwing a rough blanket
over her. Then he sat on the edge of the bed and waited for the pills to take
effect, which they did quite quickly. When he was sure she was fast asleep, he
extracted the clamp from her mouth and put a piece of duct tape over it.
Finally, leaving the alcove he shut and locked the door. It was late, he was
tired, he needed to beat his meat, tomorrow was another day, another day of fun
and games with Martine, only this time it was going to get rougher, and he was
really looking forward to that!
