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What if she wanted ...

Chapter 9 Vicky

Ch 9 Vicky

 

Usual disclaimer. Work of fiction. Do not try this at home. Void where prohibited.

Keep away from children

 

 

 

Ch 9 Vicky

 

I never thought I’d suffer as much pain as I suffered Saturday. When Robert decided to insert that fishhook in my tongue I thought I’d die. Then when he started to burn my tits with his cigar I really wished to; or thought I did; then whenever I tossed my  head, it felt as if my tongue was getting ripped off my mouth. In comparison, the pins under my toes were not that bad. My tits nailed to the two by four were a different matter. The pain was exquisite, but I managed to control myself; but when they used my nailed tits to immobilize me while they whipped my ass and back, I could not hold back, and screamed the top of my head off. Hanging from the frame and having my pussy skewered was, by then, almost a relief.

 

Nothing happened on Sunday; during the week Robert was very nice. He gave me a gel to put on my nipples and pussy. It stung like the devil, but it prevented any infection.

 

I learned from Robert that we would go on our annual fishing trip this weekend, but that Candy would not be coming. Simon would however, and Robert counted on me being able to service them both despite everything. “Everything” had a very ominous sound to it.

 

Robert did not tell me what was going to happen to Candy, and did, in fact forbid me from calling her up. He also did not even bother to get his fishing stuff ready. He did make several trips to Home Depot, and gathered a good supply of lumber. Not enough to build anything in the house, but enough to make something to hurt me with. He did not tell me his plans and, all things considered, I decided it was not in my best interest to wheedle him about it.

 

On Friday he had me load up the truck with the lumber, toolbox (Aargh) and all the leather and rattan whips, canes, straps and the like. As I was forced to assemble, pack and load all the torture implements to be used on me, I was losing my voice from fear. My bottom and ass had healed quite nicely by now. As instructed, I changed into my traveling clothes, a khaki skirt, boots, and tan blouse, with no underwear. I took a good look at my ass and back in the mirror. I suspected next time I looked at them, they would not look as nice. It might be a while before they will look so smooth again, if ever.

 

Finally ready, we picked Simon up at his place. We all got into the front seat of the truck. Robert driving, me in the middle, and Simon sitting on the passenger’s side. As soon as we left the city, Simon hanged small alligator clamps on my nipples “To get me in the mood” they said. To prevent boredom Simon applied and removed the clamps to my nipples, and to the sides of my breasts at random times.

 

The first surprise was that we went south instead of north. We headed south, then west to the four corners area; a four hour drive. Then up a dirt road, and finally we reached an old house in the middle of the desert. I remembered then. Robert had an uncle, long since dead, who had willed him some land in the four corners. This must be it. We had never been here. Robert and Simon unloaded the booze and some of the heavy stuff, the large water bottles, gas bottles and such from the truck. I was left to unload the food, the lumber, I never knew that you need two by fours and long wooden beams for fishing, the tool box and the obligatory bag of “stuff” What I could not find were any fishing rods.

 

By the time I got the truck unloaded, the boys had the beer in the fridge and the ice in the freezer. We had a light dinner. The boys then left me to clean up -what a surprise- and headed for the living room. I followed them shortly. They were sitting down waiting for me. I decided to take the initiative, to keep them off balance so to speak.

 

“I am certain that fishing is not in the plans this weekend. So, what are you guys going to be doing with me? Whatever it is, I’m sure I shan’t enjoy it”

 

That got them frazzled. Now, it could be argued that if you are soon to be tied down, with all your tender parts exposed to abuse, it is not too wise to frazzle your future torturers. You could make a very good point with that argument.

 

“You are entirely too fresh” Said my husband. “Just go ahead and strip”

 

I stripped, as instructed, I knelt before them. I knelt proudly. I knew this was not going to be easy. I knew it would be hell. Why else drive so far, out to the middle of nowhere. There probably wasn’t anybody in a ten mile radius. A thought came unbidden to my brain. We were so far out in the wilderness, I might not return. Once the thought entered my brain, I could not shrug it off. I considered the tools, the planks, the beams.

-They were going to snuff me- I thought.

 

Simon tied my right wrist to my right ankle, and the left wrist to the left ankle. Such a simple tie, but I was now defenseless. My pussy open before them. I felt the coolness of the air conditioning on my moisture.

 

Robert spoke: “We are way away from civilization. We can and will do with you whatever we want. As you wished it, there are no limits. We will start with something simple. The bullwhip. We will whip your body: your thighs, ass, breasts and pussy, until they are covered with stripes. After that, you will service us. All your orifices are ours for the taking. We will use them all. You shall remain in bondage until we leave here. You will be tied, or chained, or similarly restrained at all times. You will be in pain, at all times. Do you understand this?” I nod.

 

“As you wished there are no safe words. I will ignore your old safe word if you use it. Simon doesn’t even know it, so do not bother. We are going to get some equipment ready and will return presently” they leave me alone in the room.

 

My thoughts are racing. What can I do, what can I tell them? Should I say that I know they are going to snuff me? What would I gain by pleading for mercy? Robert and Simon are really smart. I know that if they want to make me disappear, they would get away with it. Do I even mind? Of course I do not want to die; who would? But if that is what Robert wants, I am his to do as he wishes. Maybe he has finally realized it. I do wish he would have given me warning. I could have helped arrange for my disappearance. I would have liked to bid good bye to Yukiko and Candy. Maybe he did not trust me not to try to escape. I am sad that he wouldn’t.

 

I wonder how they will do it. I consider the lumber I brought in and think they might build a gallows and hang me. The beams are quite sturdy. They might want to crucify me. I shudder at the thought. That would be horrible. People can last for days like that. Gasping for air all the time. I can’t keep obsessing like this. Why do I think they would snuff me? I must stop this foolishness.

 

They stay away for perhaps 45 minutes. It is hard for me to tell. I hear their hammering in the basement, but I have no way of telling the time. The living room has no clock, or TV. I notice that it is quite clean. Robert must have someone local come and clean the place. I wonder who lives out here. After they are done, they come and get me. They untie my wrists from my ankles, and retie my wrists together behind my back. They pull me to my feet, and I follow them to the basement.

 

The basement is as clean as the living room. Robert must have made plans some time ago to get all this ready. In the center of the floor, a structure has been built, but it is covered by a tarp, and I can’t figure out what it is. There is a pulley hanging from one of the beams. They release my wrists, tie them in front of me and hook the pulley to the rope. They pull my arms up until I stand on tip toe. This position causes my breasts to stand out, and my stomach to be sucked in. They tie my feet together. I feel a moment’s relief. My hairless pussy is somewhat protected with my feet tied together. They also tie my knees together, and my big toes. Then they tie my big toes to a ring on the floor and pull on the pulley until I am under tension. I can not move a muscle. But, all in all, I am not in any real pain. Uncomfortable, yes; painful no.

 

They will soon remedy this. They take a crop and stand behind me. I hear Robert’s voice: “Something light first, to warm you up”

 

Crack! The crop strikes me on my shoulder blades. It hurts. It hurts bad. A crop can hurt as much or as little as the wielder wants. They want it to hurt. They want me to feel it. Crack! That was two. I tighten my mouth. I must not start screaming, not yet, not so soon. A third time, and a fourth. There is no rhythm. I cannot predict when the cruel instrument will strike. A faint swish is the only warning I get, then the cut. Now lower on my back. I do not know who wields the crop. I cannot stay quiet any longer. I start to grunt with each stroke of the crop. They move further down my back. Now they strike the top of my thighs, below my butt. They are sparing my butt, for something worse, I fear. With each strike I gasp. Sweat flies from my face as I struggle to maintain control. Then, a pause, that becomes longer. They’ve stopped.

 

Simon gives me a glass of cold water. “You did well” he says “Do not bother to hold off on screaming. It will make no difference to us. We have ear plugs” He shows me the ear plugs.

 

They switch instruments. They pick up two nasty looking whips. They are long, tapering to a thin leather tip. They crack them a couple of times. Then they move to the front. They stand side by side, facing me, almost at whip’s length Simon on my right. I realize now what they are going to do. Robert puts down the whip and puts a pair of safety glasses on me. “We wouldn’t want to poke an eye out”

 

Simon starts. “Left, belly button” Whack! He flicks the whip, and it strikes, left of my belly button. It feels like a hornet just stung me there. Robert repeats it on the right, then says “Right armpit” And Whack, the same hornet stings me, right in the middle of my right axilla, where the bone is protruding due to my hanging position. A second Whack and sting on my left armpit follows as Simon follows, then says “Left groin” Well you know. I grunt at each hit, but can keep my composure. I get more and more anxious as their targets get progressively more sensitive. Mons follows groin, then comes shoulder, then breast, side. Breast center, and then comes my first scream Left nipple, then Right nipple. I scream loudly now, but cannot move. They take turns flicking the whip at my nipples. I can see them turning red, until, after a particularly vicious cut, Robert proclaims victory. My right nipple is bleeding freely. Simon says simply “Concede”

 

Robert then took a gauze pad and applied it to my nipple. “Have to stop the bleeding, we wouldn’t want to make a mess, so soon” he said, as he attached the gauze to my torn nipple with, what else, an alligator clamp! They go up to get themselves some drinks, while I am left hanging, no pun intended, to contemplate my predicament.

 

Soon they come back, and caress my neck and breasts. Simon removes the gauze (and clamp) from my nipple, and examines it. “Not too bad, you can take much more of this” I groan.

 

Robert picks up the cane. I tremble as I hang, but before he can start Simon asks:

 

“Robert, I don’t know about you, but I’m as hard as a rock. Why don’t we have her take care of us before we continue?”

 

“Do you want to cut her down?”

 

“No, if we just untie her legs, we can both do her, and then we just tie them again and continue”

 

“Yes let’s do that. Don’t fuck her ass though; I want to save her rear for later”

 

I cannot believe my ears. They are talking about me, as if I wasn’t here; of course, it is not as if I had anything to say about this anyway. Robert still has not fucked me in the ass. I was kind of grateful for that, since I did not like it, years ago, when he tried, once. I am afraid my luck in that department is over.

 

Simon unties my knees, and toes, and opening my legs, neatly sticks his rod into my surprisingly wet pussy. I wrap my legs about him, more to support myself than out of any passion. He embraces my neck and starts pumping into me. This is actually quite painful. Every thrust, he pulls on my neck, and my arms are pulled out of their sockets, or at least that is what it feels like. As Simon fucks, Robert decides it would be cool to stimulate me further, which he does by whipping my ass with the crop. Not too hard, just so I know he is there. I surprise myself again by getting aroused. Simon at the front, the cropping of my ass, the pain in my wrists and arms, and my helplessness and desperation, all of it is combining, deep in my pelvis. A wave of blood, of pressure, deep in my loins. After a few minutes, Simon is done, and Robert takes his place. Simon however does not whip me. He sits and enjoys the show. Robert knows how to do me to get me maximally turned on, and he does it today. Soon I cannot hold it anymore, and I come violently. Robert notices as I spasm on his hard rod. When he finally comes, deep in me, he lets me hang there for a minute, unsupported, both of their loads mixed, dripping out of my cunt, and running down my thighs. Then they tie my knees and toes again, just as before.

 

My hands are quite numb by now, and my shoulders hurt like the devil. I surprise myself by wishing for my caning, just so I get taken down from this position. I do not have long to wait. Simon takes over, and starts rhythmically, methodically to thrash my ass with the cane. He allows enough time between each stroke for the pain to peak, then ebb, for me to “enjoy” all of the pain, the suffering. He also takes care not to strike twice on the same spot, each strike falls on virgin territory. Robert does not participate this time, he just watches. After maybe twenty strokes, Simon stops. My ass is on fire, my arms hurt. My tits still burn. I do not know what hurt to pay attention to. My head falls on my chest. I whimper.

 

They untie my knees and toes again, lower me, and I fall, my knees cannot support my weight, but Robert grabs me by the waist, so I do not fall on the ground. Simon unties my hands too. Robert throws me over his shoulder and takes me up to the bathroom. He sits me on the toilet, and I gratefully go. He watches me as I pee. Then he picks me up again, only this time, tenderly, on his arms. I hope that he will take me to bed, it is late, but it is not to be. He has me lie face up on the ottoman in the living room. He ties my arms back on the sides of the ottoman; my wrists are left free this time. They are all tingly from the sensation returning to them. My ass hangs over the end of the seat. He bends my knees and ties my ankles to my thighs; not tight enough to cut off the circulation, just tight enough that I cannot stretch my legs. The knees are also tied to the sides of the ottoman. I cannot close my legs either. My head is supported, badly by the ottoman. In this position, I can be used any way they want. Mouth, pussy or ass, all are available for them to ravish at their ease.

 

I feel pressure in my ass. Robert inserts a  large (to me it feels huge) anal plug. I resist in vain. It goes in, whether I want it in or not. I cannot push it out. I feel a burning in my ass. “Sriracha” Robert says. “We wouldn’t want you to be too comfortable” “No, we can’t have that” As soon as those words are out of my mouth I bite my tongue. Why do I have to be such a smart ass? Here I am, pussy exposed, ass hanging in the air, hot sauce butt plug in my rear, and I am making smart ass remarks!

 

“Looks like you did not have enough” Robert seems pissed. “Simon please, can you fetch the cane from the basement? It looks like our girl here needs some correction”

 

“Twenty strokes of the cane, to the soles of your feet. Count them. If you miss one, we will repeat it until you get it right” Robert sentenced.

 

Pleasepleasepease” Thwack! “Aiiieeeeeee” A pause. Thwack! Another scream, another pause. Another cut to the tender sole of my feet. Another scream. “You are not counting Vicky, you just wasted 4 strokes.” “Four” I sob. “No; one” Robert corrects me. “One” I cry vanquished. A scream, “Two” A scream “Three. Please no more” “Four. Please, please, please” “Five” And so on. Fifteen more. After he is done, my feet are on fire. I am crying, sobbing, bawling. I can’t even feel the Sriracha in my ass. All of my body is concentrated on the few square inches on the base of my feet. He is done now but: The burn, the burn, the burn. The screaming stops, but not the sobbing. “Now thank me” he says.

 

“Thank you” I answer. “Thank you” I repeat. And I realize I mean it. I realize Robert has taken over, finally and irreversibly. He has taken over my body, my life. Through the pain I feel a sudden warmth, a languid lassitude, inside. I let my head fall back and sigh. My feet are on fire, but I am able to relax, and let go.

 

Simon brings me water, in a glass, with a straw. It is one of those curvy ones; otherwise I wouldn’t be able to drink in my position. Robert covers me with a blanket.

 

“We will leave you now. It is late, try to sleep. If we feel the need, we will come during the night and use you. That is why we chose this position. We’ll see you in the morning”

 

And they leave to their rooms. I stay, silent. Feeling the burn in my soles, now matched by the burn in my ass. I cry and cry. I cry because I hurt, I cry because I am alone, because I am afraid, because I love and because I am loved. I cry for me, for him, for Candy and for Yukiko. Finally I stop. I still cannot sleep. This position is not comfortable, and I cannot move. After some time, one of them comes to me. I cannot see who he is in the darkness. He pulls the blanket off my butt, and fucks my pussy without ceremony. He fucks and he comes, and that is all there is to it. He leaves me, my pussy dripping his come and my wetness. He replaces the blanket. Later someone, or is he the same one comes to my mouth. He is circumcised, so he must be Robert. He deep throats me, and comes down my throat. Then he leaves. I am left alone for the rest of the night. I even catch some sleep.

 

Simon wakes me up, in the morning. It is well after sunrise. He unties me, and I go through the agony of stretching my tortured body. I hear Robert in the kitchen, but it is Simon who takes me to the bathroom. He fastens a long chain to my ankle, which he then attaches to a handcuff on the towel hanger. He removes my butt plug and watches over me as I pee. I cannot hold it, though I try. He watches me closely, and prods my knees open, not ungently, with his feet when I try to close them. I feel my face flushing as my water comes out in front of him. After I am done, he asks me to turn around. I feel something hard on my ass. “No please” I plead. He ignores me. He inserts a hard rod, and I feel hot water pouring into me. He is giving me an enema. I am so embarrassed, not only because of the enema, but for what I know will happen afterwards. When he has poured what feels like a gallon of hot water into me, he stops the flow, but leaves the whole thing in me. “You need to hold it for a while” I feel terrible cramps already, as my guts try to empty against the hard nozzle. After a few minutes he has me squat over the seat and removes the nozzle. “Now go” he says. I go. After the disgusting mess has come out, he again tells me to turn around, and repeats the process, with even more water, and hotter too. And he repeats it once more; until he is satisfied the water is clean. He then gives me a smaller enema, to which he has added some drops out of a bottle. Smells like mint. This smaller one is not unpleasant. He sticks the butt plug back in. “You need to keep this one in a little longer. Now shower” The chain is long enough. He leaves me to shower by myself. I enjoy the little moment of privacy; of relative privacy, the door is open, and the shower is enclosed by a clear plastic partition, so I am still exposed to their view, if they were to come around. Nonetheless, I luxuriate in the hot water. I wash my hair, my body. I feel renewed. There is a large terrycloth towel, plush, warm. I dry myself carefully. Many of my body parts are still quite sore.

 

Robert comes in, touches his finger to his lips. I am not to talk. He takes my butt plug off and has me expel the last enema. It feels funny pooping mint scented water. He kisses me, I kiss him back. He frees my ankle from the chain and fastens a ringed leather collar on my neck. He fastens leather cuffs on my wrists. I watch him, in silence. He fastens my hands together, behind my back, and the leash to my collar. He leaves, and I follow him, leashed. He goes to the kitchen, where he has made breakfast. The smell of coffee, eggs and bacon is wonderful. My stomach growls loudly. I am starving. They do not feed me. Robert points to a corner of the table, and I kneel there. I know how to kneel; I’ve seen Candy, the little slut kneeling so prettily. So prettily it makes any man around want to throw her on her back and fuck her brains out, that’s how prettily she does it. I wish I could do it like her. I kneel at the corner of the table. Something feels different today. I am wondering what it is, when I feel myself thrown back, and Robert kicking my legs aside. I do not have time to say a single word. His mouth bites my neck, his hands squeeze my breasts painfully, and I feel him penetrating me, piercing me, fucking me. Fucking my brains out. I scream out with pleasure. I scream, and scream, and I come and come. Finally he is done. He seems angry. Furious. What have I done? He points again at the corner and I kneel, afraid. His and my juices drip on the floor. He starts eating his breakfast, glares at me and says: “You’d better clean that, with your tongue, you little slut” I clean the mess up with my tongue and then resume kneeling. After no more than a minute Simon stands up, comes to me and throws me on my back, I already know what follows. He kicks my legs aside, fucks my brains out, and again I come and come violently. After he is done, he again points; I kneel, then lick, clean and kneel again.

 

“I vote that she not kneel in the kitchen any more, or we will never get to eat a hot meal again” Simon says.

 

“Aye” Robert concurs.

 

I manage to restrain a smile. Yesterday’s tortures and today’s humiliation has had a deep effect on me. I feel different, and it must show when I kneel. I realize I am kneeling prettily, and that these two men, have been unable to keep from throwing me on my back, kick my legs aside, etc, etc. I feel warm inside after this.

 

 

I continue to kneel, prettily, while they finish their breakfast. I am starving, and wonder if and when I am to be fed. Strangely enough, this does not seem important to me at this time. I am more concerned with what is to be done to me today. I am worried about the pain that I shall endure, true, but what really worries me is whether they will be satisfied with me. Not whether they desire me. Of that I have had enough evidence that they do. No, what worries me is that they might not be satisfied, totally satisfied with me. I want to please them. To totally please them. To please them so much that they cannot control themselves. To have them taking their pleasure on me, without restraint (on their part). I am sure I will be restrained. I am also afraid of this. Fear and desire mixed together. A fabulous cocktail. Rich, daring, dangerous. A compelling addiction, that brings you ever closer to the edge. I take a deep breath.

 

They finish their breakfast. With a gesture Robert has me stand, and turn. He frees my wrists, cuffs still attached and points to the table. I pick up the table. I pick up the remains of their meal. They were hungry, they ate it all. I feel strange, picking up after them in the nude. I clean up. When I am finished, they do not give me any further instructions, so I kneel again. Robert gets up, picks up some milk from the fridge, and mixes it with corn flakes in a bowl. He puts the bowl in front of me, and tells me “Feed” He watches me. I decide not to use my hands. I do not know if I would be allowed to, so I don’t. He makes a noise of approval. I am glad.

 

After I am done with breakfast, Robert unfastens my wrists, and tells me to put on my boots. He slathers sunscreen on me, fastens my wrists again and we step outside. They are dressed in khakis, wearing backpacks, me nude, leashed, and with a hat on. The desert sun is warm, very pleasant in this October morning; the hum of insects surrounds us. They stroll around the grounds, with me following them. As they walk, they touch me everywhere they feel like. Mostly it’s my back and my butt, but occasionally one of them will tweak my nipples, or touch my pussy. It is wet. It stays wet. The exposure, and the submission, the yielding is keeping me aroused. I wish I could touch myself, but it is not allowed.

 

After about one hour, we reach a dead tree. It must have been dead for a very long time. It lies down on the floor, with a huge branch sticking up. An accusatory finger to the sky that failed to provide the water it needed. They take their backpacks off. Robert takes a bottle of water and a bowl. He places the water in the bowl for me to drink. I drink it kneeling, on the ground. He and Simon sit on the tree and drink from water bottles too.

 

I knew that tree branch was too tempting. Simon has me stand in front of it, my back to it. He takes a lariat out of his backpack and ties my wrists to it, and throws it over the top of the branch. A groove at the top makes sure it will not fall. He pulls me up on tiptoe. He ties my feet, around the base of the branch. My knees are slightly bent. The feet provide no support. I hang from my wrists, but I can relieve them, ever so slightly by squeezing on the tree with my calves. This barely takes a little of the weight from my wrists. I see Robert pull out the whip from his backpack and I know I will not be able to support myself with my calves. Today my breasts, belly, thighs and, I’m sure, pussy will bear the brunt of their pleasure.

 

As they get ready I look around me. The desert is beautiful. I see a roadrunner and a male quail, with a covey of females following him. In the sky, distant, a buzzard circles lazily.

I wonder if they’ll leave me here when they are done. Hanging from this tree. A meal for the buzzard.  Something inside me tells me I’m being silly. They would not have slathered sunscreen on me if they were planning to leave me here.

 

Simon sets up a video camera on a tripod. They will record this.

 

“Are you ready?” Simon asks.

 

Robert will wield the whip first I.

 

“Yes” I answer.

 

The first cut of the whip is across my thighs. I contain my scream. A second one, a little lower. Again I contain my scream. I am sure I will be hoarse when I’m done. I try to save my strength. The third one is higher, the fourth, lower. One after the other, the lash falls on my thighs, until they are on fire, both of them. Robert gives the whip to Simon and  approaches me. I am sweaty, and it is not only from the heat, but I have managed to contain my screams, just grunts have escaped my lips. He brings me water, from a bottle. I drink greedily. I thank him. I ask him “Please, when it is time, please, Will you do my breasts yourself?”

“I will. Do you think it will go easier on you that way?”

“No. I think you will hit me harder. I want you to. Do not hold back”

“I will not hold back”

 

Simon starts on my belly. His first cut is just below my breasts. I grunt again, but the second one, just under the first finally breaks my resolve. I scream, then and again and again. He works his way down, to my belly button, and my lower belly. My screams follow one another, until he reaches my mons. I am hoarse by then. He stops. He comes to me and kisses my lips. Again he gives me water, and fondles my breasts. They take a break. I hate it. I hoped they would continue and get it over with, but they do not. They stand beside me, and drink from their water bottles. They also give me more water. My voice recovers some.  So does my breathing.

 

Simon touches my pussy. It is now dry. The pain, the whipping has gone beyond anything that I could transform in arousal. He tells Robert “She is dry now” He nods. “Good” Robert comes to me, and asks me “Do you understand?” “I do”

 

I do understand. The worst part of this whipping will come now. My breasts and nipples will be shredded. The pain will be unbearable. But if there were any arousal, the pain would not be as pure as it will be this way. That is what he wants me to understand. That is what I understand. Hanging from the tree, I whisper: “I am ready”

 

Simon moves to the camera. He will record this himself. He will not let the camera do it in auto. He places a new disc in it. There will be no errors.

 

Robert moves into place, on my right side. I gaze into his eyes. He gazes back at me. Lovingly. He loves me. He is going to whip my breasts into tatters. I asked him to hold nothing back, and I know he won’t. He asks me: “Are you ready” Again I answer, a bit louder this time. “I am ready. Enjoy yourself”

 

After it is over, I look down on my breasts. My sweat mixes with my blood and stings where the skin has been torn by the whip. And torn it has been. Blood flows over my formerly white globes, drips on the ground. My tears mix with my sweat and fall like gentle rain on my tits. I no longer feel my hands, or my arms, or my calves surrounding the tree. The desert is strangely silent after my screams. One of them, I do not know who, frees me from the tree. He lays me on my back on the trunk. My legs falling on each side of it. I lack the strength to raise them. First one, then the other have me in that position. My eyes are closed against the glare of the sun, and against seeing. I do not want to see with my eyes. I want to see with my skin. Their weight crushes my breasts. Their sweat mingles with my blood. My pussy, wet again, welcomes them. Sucks them dry. Their semen and my juice mix, then leak on to the tree. A small puddle of moisture in the desert; my gift to nature.

 

Late in the afternoon we leave. My skin is red despite the sunscreen and the tarp shelter the boys built for me. We should have left earlier, but I was unable to walk for a while. I had to recover. At the beginning I remained, spread over the tree. The sun baking my blood on my breasts, basting me. Later I took shelter in the shadow of the tarp. I look back at the tree. I shall remember it all my life and would return to it, if allowed, and even if I knew that I would not survive the torture that would await me here, I would still come gladly.

 

 

We are back at the house. It feels cool inside, after the heat of the desert. Robert helps me shower, and slathers a disinfectant gel over my breasts. It stings like the fires of hell, but is supposed to be excellent in preventing infection. After he is done, we return to the living room.

 

“You should take a nap, before the evening. You might not be able to sleep tonight” He tells me.

 

“Ok I will”

 

“I know I said that you would be restrained and in pain all the time, but after this afternoon, I will relent and let you nap unrestrained”

 

“Please” I say “I asked you to hold nothing back. Have no mercy, or the whole thing is meaningless” Two days ago, I would not believe those words could be coming out of my mouth.

 

“That’s my girl”

 

So I nap, hogtied, with my ankles tied together behind my back and my wrists fastened together in the same fashion, and both wrists and ankles tied together behind the hollow of my back. A light blanket covers me. The only concession to comfort is that I am lying on a mattress, rather than on the hard floor or on a table. As for the pain, he needn’t have worried. My thighs and belly would hurt a whole lot, had I any brain left to pay attention to them, as it was the pain from my breasts and nipples demanded all my attention. As it is, I am so exhausted that I do fall asleep, and rest until Simon comes to wake me up.

 

 

When Simon comes to me, it is already dark outside. The air is full with the chirping of insects. I cannot walk due to my legs (and arms) being asleep from the bondage, so he carries me in his arms. He gives me a small enema, and watches me as I expel it. He is satisfied with the results, so he gives me the minty one, and again watches me expel it. I do not mind anymore. I have no modesty before him.

 

I follow him to the kitchen, where I am given water and juice, which I drink on the floor. Then I kneel until they have me follow them to the basement. My front has been punished today, my back yesterday. I am sure it will now be my ass and my pussy that will suffer for their enjoyment.

 

Robert sits on the couch, Simon on the easy chair. They have me suck them until they are hard. That doesn’t take long. I am on all fours on the coffee table. Robert drips some lubricant in and on my puckered asshole.

 

Here it comes.

 

He makes no preparations. He has no mercy. He simply pushes, forces, rips the fat head of his penis into my ass. If I thought it was painful, years ago, when he had me excited, and slowly tried to stretch me, today, without any foreplay, and without any preparation, I feel ripped apart. After the head, the rest of his prick makes its way in. I gasp, and then scream. He ignores me, as he should. He takes his time. He wants to make me suffer, as I should, for having denied him this pleasure, all this years. I feel the head of his dick against my bowels, and then he grasps my hips and starts banging away, until he spills deep inside me. He comes out, and unbidden I turn on myself and take him into my mouth. His dick is actually quite clean from all the enemas I’ve had today, and tastes minty. I clean him off anyway, then turn around and present my ass to Simon. He just says “Wow” and rams it right in. It hurts, only not as much as with Robert. They are both just about the same size, and I am already stretched. I am also sore, and Simon also takes his time. I also scream with him, and after he comes, I also clean him off with my mouth.

 

They sit on the couch. I remain, broadside to them, on all fours, on the coffee table. I await further instructions.

 

Finally, they get up, and remove the tarp from the structure in the center. I can now see the instrument that I will be tortured on next. It resembles a gymnastics horse, the kind you jump over, only instead of a flat surface it has a triangular cross section. I recognize what it is. It is a wooden horse. A perfect instrument to torture a woman. Over its center, on the ceiling a pulley holds a rope. I do not need instructions. I know what I must do. I walk towards it. The top is pretty sharp. Not enough to cut, but it is a sharp edge nonetheless. I realize that it is late. Chances are I will spend the night riding this horse. I touch the edge, rough and sharp. I imagine my pussy, crushed against it all the night. I shudder. Midway along its top, a huge dildo, its base flared, and with sharp pyramidal spikes embedded around its base. I hear my high school geometry teacher explaining to me what a tetrahedron is. Very easy for him to talk about tetrahedrons; I am sure he never had a dildo surrounded by sharp tetrahedrons rammed up his ass.

 

I turn around and offer my wrists, crossed, behind my back to Simon, who is closest to me. He fastens the cuffs and the rope to them. Robert comes on one side, Simon on the other; they each pick up one of my thighs and lift me easily over the torture instrument. Slowly they lower me, inserting the dildo on my ass. It is much larger than them, yet I do not scream. My mouth is so dry from fear, and I fear the horse so much, that I can only grunt when I feel the huge invading rod. They lower me over it, and make sure that I am properly impaled in it. The sharp pyramidal spikes cut cruelly around my ass. Robert makes sure the sharp ridge lies properly alongside my pussy, and that my nether lips are pulled well away from it. Nothing must protect my tender insides from the cruel ridge. Robert pulls on the rope, so my arms stretch back and up, making me lean forward. That way the pressure falls more closely on the clitoris. They have left nothing to chance. I whimper softly, but ask for no mercy. I want none and will receive none. I may relieve some of the pressure on my pussy and clitoris by propelling my weight back and impaling myself deeper on the dildo and its spikes. On the wooden horse, the victim may squeeze her legs, and thus relieve, for a time, her tender pussy from her weight. This will not last long, as the thigh muscles will tire very fast. Robert and Simon now tie my feet to my thighs, flexing my knees. This will reduce to the bare minimum the pressure I can exert with my thighs. Two poles are now brought to the sides. From their tips, two tethers come to my collar; they are made tight enough that I cannot fall to the side. One final thing remains. Simon and Robert, one on each side, seize my inner lips and pull them forward slightly; not a whole lot. They then take three nails and nail each lip to the wooden horse. I scream. It is too much, I let it go. I break down and cry. Robert embraces me tenderly, and I calm down. He kisses my lips. He whispers in my ear: “Should we stop? Should we take you off the horse? Is it too much?” There is nothing I would want more than to be released from this contraption. My ass, cunt, lips and shoulders play a symphony of pain that is only just starting. I regain my composure and kiss him back. “You mustn’t. If you relent, all will have been for naught”

 The torture device is ready, and the victim is in place. Meekly I await my fate. They kiss me tenderly, give me a drink of water, and leave me to my suffering. “Good night” I tell them. As they walk up the stairs, Simon turns off the light. I am left, alone, in the dark.

 

 


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