by Paul Blades
“Why me? Why me? Why me! Why me!” she kept repeating over and over and over again to herself. If she were not the man’s prisoner, at this very moment she would probably be home getting ready to have Randy over for dinner, or to go to his place or maybe out. They would make love tonight and, if they ate at his place, she would probably bring her things and stay over. She thought of her friends at work, the girls she worked with, none of them had had to experience what she had. None of them had ever been hogtied and gagged and blindfolded and abandoned for hours on end. None of them had had to submit to scurrilous use by a man who probably didn’t even remember her name. Only her! Her! Carly Walker! It wasn’t fair. It just wasn’t fair.
Like before, when he had tied her up and then left her, she felt like she was under some evil spell that he had cast on her. His iron will bound her wrists and her knees and her ankles and her arms. He had promulgated some dark wizardry to fill her mouth with a thick, stifling, unignorable force reminiscent of his prick to ever remind her of her mouth’s new, superior purpose, that of giving pleasure to him, serving as a moist, hot, energetically compliant sheath to his fleshy sword. He was there even when he wasn’t there. She could not stop thinking of him and his supreme power over her.
The minutes dragged on remorselessly. She tried to count the seconds off, but whenever she got up to four or five minutes, her mind would wander down one of the many dark pathways engendered by her fate, and she would lose count. She strained her ears for some sounds from the house to remind herself that she was not alone. A couple of times one of the bikers must have taken one of the girls to the room next door because she could hear through the walls exclamations of passion in a deep, male voice and shrill, unhappy, feminine wails and cries of abuse.
She knew that becoming the fucktoy of a group of callous men was one of the possible outcomes of her present predicament and she thought of the poor girl who had probably had to fuck dozens of the coarse men at one time or another, many of them multiple times. “That’s me I hear through the wall,” she thought. “That’s my future. That’s what I will sound like when the men maltreat me.” Her body would shudder and her belly would churn at the thought of it.
And she listened to the men coming up the stairs or walking the hall, thinking that it could be him and knowing that at any moment he could return, wanting and not wanting it at the same time.
But when it finally happened, that is, when the feet finally stopped at her door, she knew it wasn’t him and a sharp stab of fear pierced her belly.
The feet came in the door. She heard the door close and the lock restored. She felt evil intending eyes wandering her body. She tried desperately to wish herself away, to disappear before the man’s very eyes, to where, she did not care. Even the ultimate darkness seemed preferable to what she knew would happen now. A chill went through her body and she could not help the escape of a whine from her throat.
The man didn’t say anything at first. But she knew who it was. It was that dark, fearsome man, the leader of this pack of degenerate slavers. She recalled the vision of him leading that woman up the stairs last night. She had felt sorrow for the woman then. And she felt sorry for herself now knowing full well that whatever that woman had suffered last night she would suffer the same now.
Or worse. She had sensed the powerplay last night between her captor and the man who was in the room with her now. She had known then, as much as she tried not to believe it, or, rather, as much as she hoped she didn’t have to believe it, that her captor would give in to him. The other man was the alpha dog, the A number one. There could be only one of those and the alpha dog always made sure that any dog that could challenge it was put in its place. And there was no better way for a man to put another man in his place than fucking his woman.
The man stood there for a moment. She could feel his eyes running over her and, like some kind of perverse telepathy, for a moment, she saw what he saw, her bound, helpless limbs, her pale, soft skin, the contrast of her shocking red hair, the roundness of her curves, the lines of her graceful thighs, her long, delicate fingers, the plumpness of her rear and her breast as it peaked out from underneath her. It was a lust inspiring vision, a naked, comely, helpless woman at the full and complete mercy of anyone who wanted her.
Then, without ceremony, she heard the distinctive sounds of him stripping for action. He kicked of his boots. She heard his zipper fall. She heard the slide of cloth and his heavy steps as he lifted first one foot and then the other. There was the sound of clothing hitting the floor. And then he sat on the bed, almost certainly to remove his socks.
He was so close to her that she could hear him breathing. She whined again, though she had tried to force it down, and a sickness pervaded her body. When she felt the bed sag as he edged himself closer, she strained and pulled desperately at her bonds and her mind and psyche rose up in frantic, hopeless, agonizing revolt. A protest rose up within her so strong that she felt like her body might explode. “No! No! No! Don’t let it happen! Please! Please! Don’t let it happen! Pleeeeeeeease!” she called out in her mind.
For she knew that the moment this man put his mark on her, befouled her, polluted her, her bond with her captor would be broken. It was all she had left. There was nothing else. And while she had suffered mightily in achieving it, she had developed a powerful, perverse need for it. “Please don’t! Please! Please! Please!” she screamed inwardly. “Please!”
And then she felt his hand on her. It was hot and strong and rough and large. It snuck in under her outstretched arms and slid down her back, rubbing over her naked rear cheeks. She bit down hard on her gag and her inner self cringed in piteous despair.
His body was so close she could feel its heat. She could smell its smell. She could sense the vicious aura of malevolence that surrounded it. She knew she was doomed. She knew that no power in the world could stop what was going to happen now. She gave one more, fierce, hopeless pull at her bonds releasing, at the same time, a forlorn groan of self-pity. And then she was done.
“There, there, little lady,” the man said calmly, his voice deep, gravelly and low, his hand rubbing up and down her plump, rear orbs. “We’re going to have a little fun together. I’m not going to hurt you, unless, of course, you disappoint me. Then I’m going to come down upon you like a whole world of hurt. But that’s not going to happen, is it? You’re going to be a good little girl, aren’t you?”
Carly had no answer for him. But, of course she would be good. She was so frightened that her stomach had turned into a knot. Her body shivered. Her heart commenced a dreadful pounding.
The man shifted next to her and she felt his hands go under her, one under the tops of her thighs and the other across her chest. In a moment, he had lifted her and rolled her to her side, exposing her belly and breasts. He pushed her until she was leaning back on her bound arms, slanted away from him.
“Mmmmmmmmm,” he hummed. “You’re a lovely little lady. Now I know why old Blackjack didn’t want to share you. You could become a habit.”
He ran a hand over her breasts, caressing and massaging them and then down her taut belly and across her joined together thighs. He moved closer to her, placing his naked body up against her thighs and then she felt his mouth take hold of a nipple. His mouth was hot. He began a gentle suckle, his tongue playing with the tip of her teat. His hand ran down her torso and over her hip. She bit into her gag and tried to fight off the sensations of desire that were arising in her.
“Please don’t! Please don’t! Please don’t!” she repeated in her mind. But she was not speaking to him this time. Her prayer was not to him, but to herself. To her body. To the nerve endings and synapses and primordial urges that lurked within her. She knew what was going to happen and she hated herself for it. Hated him for lighting the fuse that would set her body aflame. “Please don’t do it! Please!” she begged.
His mouth left her one teat and fastened on the other. He suckled gently at first and then harder and harder and h
arder until she released a squeal.
“Mmmmmmmmmmmmmm, you like that, don’t you, you little slut?” he asked tauntingly. “What a little whore you are. We’re going to have a real good time together. I can just tell.”
He leaned back and she felt his hands go behind her head. They fumbled for a moment and she felt the straps to her gag being released and then a pull on the gag itself until it cleared her mouth. She realized at once that her gag, the source of so much agony and shame to her, had been, up to this minute, a shield against the man’s depredations. Now it was gone and her mouth felt vulnerable and empty and she was terrified at the certainty that he intended to fill it.
His hand took possession of her face. He squeezed her cheeks harshly, forcing her mouth ajar. She felt his lips touch hers. She could taste his dry, hot breath. And then, his tongue slipped slowly and easily across her lips. It entered her mouth and a wave of heat passed through her body. “Ohhhhhhhhhhh!” she moaned unhappily. She tried to open her mouth wider, to pull back her tongue, to draw her head away from his, but he held on to her face harshly.
“Don’t fucking do that,” he said sharply. “Don’t pull away from me! I have a lot of experience making little girls like you howl. And once I snap, I never know how far I’m going to go. So, if I were you, I’d pretend that I’m your favorite lover boy and kiss me like you were hungry for it. You understand? You got that?” His tone was cruel and heartless, filling her with dread.
She issued a forlorn whine and attempted a frantic nod of her head. Her body was cold with fear.
“No!” he said loudly and gruffly. “Say it! Say, ‘Yes, Mr. Ike. I understand.’”
Carly squealed again and the hand squeezed her cheeks harder. “Say it!” he demanded. “Say it or so help me god, you’ll wish you had!”
“Yesh, it-er Ike, I unnerstan!” she responded desperately through her distorted mouth, her voice whiney and pleading, her blood running cold.
“Say, ‘Please kiss me, Mr. Ike.’”
“…ease ish ee, it-er Ike!” she responded at once, frantic not to displease him.
“Say, ‘Please fuck me, Mr. Ike!’”
“ …eashe uh ee, it-er Ike!” she sobbed.
“Say, ‘Please stick your dick in me, Mr Ike!’”
Carly could hardly talk from her forlorn sobs, but she forced the dreadful words out.
“…eeese it ur ick ih ee, it-ir Ike,” she repeated through her sobs.
“Now, are you going to be good?”
“…essh, it-ir Ike,” Carly answered desperately.
“Are you going to fuck me like you mean it?”
“…essh, it-ir Ike,” she repeated tearfully.
“Am I going to have to tell you again?”
“…oh, it-ir Ike,” she replied weakly.
He released her jaw. She was sobbing uncontrollably. Her whole body was shaking. “There, there, now,” he said sweetly, rubbing her head. “I’m going to give you one more chance, okay?”
“Yes, Mr. Ike,” she forced through her sobs.
“Okay, then. Now catch your breath and calm down, Okay?’
Carly nodded and took a deep breath, holding it for a few seconds. Then she released it slowly. Her lips were trembling. He was still rubbing her head softly. He ran his hand down her side and over her hip and over her joined thighs. He ran it back up again over her belly and over her breasts, gently squeezing each one. The hand was hot and heavy and sure of the liberties it was taking, asserting dominion over her flesh.
He took her nipples in his mouth again, suckling them gently while rubbing her belly. Despite her revulsion at his touch, she felt herself calming. He suckled her for a long time, until she felt the surge of her lust. She bit her lips but could not prevent her moan from escaping. He raised his head again and his hand seized her breast. His lips touched hers. His tongue entered her mouth. He pressed his lips against hers. His tongue was hot and thick and was moving gently, slowly in her mouth, capturing her tongue and curling over it and around it and against it. Her loins began to burn and she knew that she was lost.
She whined fretfully as his hand, his right, free hand, wandered her body, bringing a tantalizing excitement everywhere it went. He kissed her hard, forcefully, but his hand was as light as a bird, hopping from this place to that, running itself over her breasts, caressing her belly, rubbing the fronts of her thighs. She had no choice but to endure the caresses, which were bringing her closer and closer to where she did not want to go. Then his hand seized a breast, her left one, and squeezed it hard. His thumb and forefinger took hold of her nipple and twisted it until she moaned. Then the other, caresses, then a mighty squeeze and then a voracious twist of her teat that made her cringe and cry out. His hand became heavier now, forceful, an assertion of his will and dominion.
Cary couldn’t help but moan and sigh. She felt the urgent need to twist and turn her body, but her bindings held her still. Her legs pulled firmly on the connection to her hands, stretching out her wrists. Her fingers splayed and unsplayed, pulled together, rolling up into little fists and then unrolled again. They were the only parts of her body that could move and she couldn’t keep them still. She had a terrible sense of the immediacy of what was happening. Her mind could go nowhere else. Her lusts were growing so fast that they were forcing everything else out of her brain.
Then he drew his hand down to where her thighs joined, forming a little triangle of space with her sex. Her thighs were jammed together and it was tight, but he was still able to sneak a finger into the gap and, when it found her stiffened love button, began to stroke it. A surge of pleasure went through her. “Ohhhhhhhhh,” she moaned into the man’s mouth. His tongue kept up its lust driving dance and now, in combination with the friction on her clit, made her squirm and twist and pull on her bonds.
Her breath was coming fast and heavy when he broke their kiss. He ran his hand down and up over her belly and breasts once again, pinching and pulling on her teats, circling his huge hand around them, kneading them. He kissed one, and then the other, suckling on them hard, biting at them, subsuming them into his mouth. Carly gasped with a fierce arousal. When satisfied that she was on the razor’s edge, he drew his hand away and began to slide his body up. Carly’s body was near the end of the bed and so there was room for him to slide up all the way until his loins neared her face.
Carly cringed and close her mouth. He was going to fuck her there, she knew it. His cock was unseen to her; she was still blinded. But she imagined it, knobby and swollen, thick and long, pink and red and veined, jutting out arrogantly from his loins. As he adjusted his position, a chill went through her, a chilly ache brought on by a wave of self-pity and shame that she had no power to stop him.
Shamed by her fear of resistance. Shamed that she knew she would do whatever he said, whatever he wanted, that he should have the power to force these things on her. Shame because she knew that there was something inside her lying in wait, and as soon as the man’s cock breeched her lips it would come roaring into fruition. Her captor had sparked it. He had sensed in in her and had drawn it out. That being used so felt so right was so wrong. She knew it, but there was nothing she could do. That demon would arise and her lusts would go off the scale. To her shame, she had found her rightful place in the universe, the place where she fit best, bound and powerless, forced to endure the unendurable. Forced to pay obeisance to her true lord.
His hand went on the back of her head and took a good grasp of her hair. He pulled her to her side. She whined.
“Open up,” he said. “Make a tight little hole with your mouth.”
Carly obeyed. She was trembling and her belly was rolling over and over and over, making her nauseous. He shifted himself closer on his side. His cock brushed up against her lips. It prodded gently at the opening, just a tad larger than the hole that she had formed with her pursed lips. Then it pressed forward. Her lips pressed up close against the shaft as it slipped into her mouth. The bulbous head brushed against the roof o
f her mouth and her tongue. It kept going, going, going until it met the barrier of her throat. She could feel his wiry hairs against her nose and face. She issued a piteous whine, but held her lips tight as she had been told.
“Ahhhhhhhhhhh,” he said, low and soft. “That’s good, whore. That’s good. Keep it nice and tight. Don’t make me have to tell you again.”
He began to rock his hips. His thick member began to slide in and out of her lips. He met every outward thrust with a thrust downward of her head as if he were jerking himself off with her mouth. Slowly, back and forth, long, leisurely strokes. He was in no hurry. He moaned and sighed appreciatively. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, that’s nice, whore,” he hissed. “That’s nice. Keep it tight. Nice and tight. Just like that. Yeah. Yeah. Ohhhhhhh, yeah.”
He kept going on and on. Carly was overwhelmed with shame, but her blood was beginning to boil. The soft but rigid object, forced upon her, ruling her, filling her, was an insult to her psyche. “Stop! Stop! Stop!” she prayed uselessly. “Oh, please, please stop!” But it kept going and going. She could feel the fire burning in her loins. She squeezed her thighs together. “Ohhhhhhhhhh, don’t do this! Don’t do this! Don’t do this!” she thought.
And then something snapped in her. A rush of passion flowed through her. Her mind went on overload. A need so intense, so powerful came over her. Her defenses collapsed and the demon took hold of her. “Oh, yes,” she began to say. “Yes! Yes! Yes! Fuck my mouth! Fuck it! Fuck it!”
The only noise was her assailant’s heavy breathing, his grunts of pleasure and her occasional whine and groan. It seemed like he could go on for hours. Carly’s lusts kept burning and burning. “Mmmmmmmmmmmm!” she moaned. “Mmmmmmmmmmmmm! Mmmmmmmmmmmmm!”
Then she heard something in the next room. Someone was in there fucking. She heard a deep, male voice. It sounded loud and angry. There was a high pitched female shriek and then another followed by a woeful sob and more of the angry voice. Then a faint, continuous, anguished whine.
