by Sarah Fisher
She stood on the stone floor in her underwear, the dress around her ankles.
He waved his hand towards her. ‘And the rest, take everything off,’ he whispered. His eyes travelled down over her body. ‘Come along don’t disappoint me now, Alex. I have so much to teach you. Tonight is merely your first step of a wondrous journey.’
It suddenly seemed to Alex as if her body had a will of its own. She undid her bra, letting it drop to the floor, then slid down her knickers; both excited and at the same time frightened and acutely conscious of her vulnerability. From the shadows she could see his eyes and knew he approved of what he saw.
‘Turn round slowly,’ he murmured.
She did, teasingly, deftly. When she had her back to him Alex felt his hands on her shoulders. She yelped as his fingers pressed into her flesh. His voice was a threatening murmur in her ear.
‘Don’t flirt with me, Alex. There is no need, you are mine already.’
As he spoke he pushed her to the floor. She stumbled forward onto the cold flagstones, landing heavily on her hands and knees. Before she had time to recover he grabbed hold of her arms and jerked her towards him. His face was impassive as he produced leather cuffs from the pocket of his dinner jacket. She watched in stunned surprise as he slipped them round her wrists and then tied them down into rings set in the floor. It wasn’t until she had let him put them on that she realised he had rendered her completely helpless.
‘Mr Tourne,’ she gasped in horror, suddenly afraid. His response was to turn his attentions to her ankles. When she started to strain against the straps he tightened those around her wrists, jerking her face closer to the floor, so that she was crouched on all fours. She let out a thin desperate sob as his hands moved slowly across her body, ‘oh Alex, you will be perfect - just perfect,’ he said on an outward breath. ‘I knew it as soon as I saw you. It will give me the greatest of pleasure to be your first teacher.’ He paused as his fingers circled her hardening nipples. ‘A good teacher can always bring out the best in his pupil, I will bring out only the very best in you.’
Alex shuddered as his hands moved slowly round to the curve of her buttocks. As he got to his feet, the feelings of vulnerability and exposure overwhelmed her. She trembled, listening to his footfalls in the gloom. She wasn’t sure what was more frightening - the sound of his moving away from her, or the sound of him returning.
The shadows subtly changed and she guessed he had altered the lighting in the room so that he could admire his new prize. As he stepped closer she held her breath. He let something cold trail along her spine. She could hear his breathing in the empty silence and closed her eyes, fighting the growing sense of terror.
Peter Tourne let the leather belt rest for a moment on Alex’s beautiful bound body. He smiled to himself, relishing the fear and the anticipation he could feel rising from her. She looked divine. Her buttocks were thrust up towards him, accentuating the erotic ‘hour glass’ shape of her body. Between the cheeks of her bottom he could see the lips of her sex, just parted to reveal the delicate inner pleats, and above them the tight dark bud of her anus. Her sex was framed with a delicate flush of coppery curls. The kiss of the belt made her shiver and wriggle, revealing a little more, opening her a little wider. Already he could make out the glistening moisture of her juices, gathering in the sensitive folds, betraying her excitement.
He let the belt move on, relishing his sense of power, drinking in the heady cocktail of emotions her body created in him. As the seconds passed, he could see her desperately fighting to retain some vestige of dignity, or control. Her breath came in shallow gasps as if she were straining to hear his every move. He saw her relax momentarily, and in that instant he drew the belt back and hit her squarely across the plump orb of her buttocks.
Alex screamed, twisting away from him, her belly dropping to protect the soft exposed areas of her body, while her face pressed down onto the cold floor. Before she could brace herself for the next stroke he brought the belt down again, harder this time.
Peter Tourne grinned, relishing the desperate noises of her humiliation and pain, delighting in the angry red glow that flushed across her skin. She struggled and writhed, trying to avoid the next blow, but he had bound her too well, and the stroke exploded across her buttocks, which clenched as she fought to evade his attentions. Between the heavy curves he could still see the lips of her sex gaping, glistening in the soft light. As if she could read his mind she clenched her muscles tighter still, trying to hide the secret parts of her body from him as the belt swept viciously back again.
Alex gasped as the next blow struck. The soft leather bonds creaked quietly as she jerked and vainly tried to twist away from her assailant. Tears of pain and shock bubbled up in her eyes. Whatever she had anticipated from Peter Tourne’s instruction, it had not been this. The overwhelming red hot bite of the leather belt made her gasp and buck with surprise. She could feel the glowing pain in her buttocks spreading up through her whole body. She tried hard to control herself, not wanting to cry out to let him know how much it hurt - or more telling still - how much the hot stinging sensations and the sense of exposure and helplessness were awakening something deep and hungry in the darkest recesses of her mind.
She arched against his next blow, letting out a strangled sob as her face and breasts pressed down onto the cold floor. Behind her, she heard Peter Tourne moving. For a few seconds, she thought the beating was over and let out a thin whine, letting the tension ease in her back.
Before she had time to catch her breath the belt caught her again, hard and hot. The sensations spread out from her bottom in incandescent ripples. She knew she was losing control and let out a dark wailing moan as he hit her again, her rational thoughts were being overcome by the scorching arc of sensations. She bucked and strained against her restraints, letting instinct take over. She felt as if everything she had ever known was slipping way, as Peter Tourne ministered his own particular brand of instruction.
Suddenly there was stillness. The only sounds in the room were those of her desperate and ragged breaths. This time Alex didn’t relax, fearing that it would herald another volley of blows from the belt. Instead she held herself taut, waiting for whatever torment might follow.
After a few seconds Alex felt fingers splaying the glowing, stinging contours of her buttocks. She shuddered as long fingers dipped inside her - she knew she was wet - and whimpered as they commenced their exploration.
From behind her, she heard the raw metallic sound of Peter Tourne’s zip, and then the brush of his engorged cock against her inner thighs. The contrast to the hot angry glow of her bottom was electrifying. Brutally his fingers opened her sex and he slid into her without prelude. She bayed as his cock filled her and stifled a sob as he grabbed her hips and dragged her exhausted body back against his.
The friction of his clothes against the tender, glowing swell of her bottom made Alex shriek, but Peter Tourne was oblivious to her discomfort. He hauled her into his groin again and again, plunging deeper and deeper into the wet confines of her body, his fingers crushing down on the delicate folds of her inner lips.
Despite the sense of pain and humiliation, or perhaps she realised with a sense of horror - because of it - she could feel the pleasure growing deep inside. Dark crystals of excitement glistened and grew as he locked his fingers into her hair, arching her back against his thrusts. She screamed again as he jerked her hair harder, his fingers now moving to nip and drag at her breasts. As his fingers tightened around her engorged nipples she felt the glowing crystal sensation in her belly explode into glistening shards that ripped through her. Her bruised, aching body closed frantically around the shaft, sucking at him, milking him, and a second later she heard him groan and then join her in a wild and desperate race towards oblivion.
Finally Alex collapsed onto the cold hard floor, huddled to save her screaming shoulder muscles and glowing but
tocks. Peter Tourne remained buried deep inside her, his breath ragged and uneven on her bare skin.
Eventually he slowly peeled himself away from her, leaving her feeling open and exposed.
Alex eased herself into a more comfortable position, afraid to speak. He turned his attention to the leather ties around her ankles and relief swept through her. It was short lived though; once he had untied the straps around her ankles, he moved away. She stretched out on the flagstones, waiting for him to come to free her hands. Instead he lifted her head and slipped a thin pillow beneath it. She started to protest but he seemed unreachable. She wanted to see his face, his eyes, but could only focus on his expensive shoes as he walked slowly past her. She felt him fold a blanket over her bruised and sated body, and then she let out a thin unhappy cry as she realised he intended to leave her there, tied to the floor.
‘Mr Tourne,’ she sobbed, all her senses alight and afraid. ‘Please, Mr Tourne. No, don’t leave me here! I’ll do whatever you want. Please, untie me...’ but her cries fell on deaf ears. She heard the sound of his footfalls recede as he left the room, and seconds later she was plunged into total darkness. She screamed out at the indignity, the unfairness, and the memory of the dark insistent call of her own desire.
Finally she realised it was pointless. Peter Tourne had gone. She began to cry aware that in her struggles to call him back she had dragged the blanket down off her shoulders.
Between her legs the sting of the belt still throbbed, while her sex, wet and bruised, still glowed with the aftermath of her excitement. She lay still for a few seconds, hot tears rolling down her cheeks, wondering whether she could untie herself. Her fingers fumbled with the thongs, but in the dark she couldn’t see how or where the ties where held.
She listened to the unfamiliar sounds of room and the night outside. It seemed as if she were totally and utterly alone. The tears came back with a vengeance - tears of fear and tears of shame, for she knew that some part of her relished what the virtual stranger had done to her, however much her rational mind denied it.
In the darkness Alex rolled over onto her side, making the joints in her shoulders scream. She tried to slide down under the blanket to keep warm. Her body protested as she felt the cold floor beneath her biting into her hips and knees. She shivered. It was going to be a long, long night.
Easing herself onto her back she concentrated on the stars, which were clearly visible through the skylight above, trying to take her mind off the pain and the strange dark thoughts that emerged again and again in her mind. Slowly, despite everything, she felt exhaustion creep over her aching body, and did not resist as she slipped into a light and fitful doze.
It was still dark when something woke Alex. Instantly she knew exactly where she was. Her body was cold, her muscles and bones aching with strain and cramps. She peered into the gloom, wondering if Peter Tourne had taken pity on her and returned to untie the straps. His name conjured up the images of her excitement and of his body pressed intimately against hers, but more compelling still, the memories of the belt biting into her delicate flesh.
Alex swallowed hard and listened. Close by she could hear someone moving about in the room. She licked her dry lips, struggling to find her voice.
‘Mr Tourne?’ she asked uncertainly into the darkness. The movement in the shadows stopped. Alex held her breath. ‘Who’s there?’ she eventually called uneasily, unable to keep the tremor out of the words.
She heard the soft footsteps moving closer, and then in the starlight caught the glint of dark eyes. Instinctively she drew herself up into a small tight ball. Her unknown visitor moved closer - so close that she could hear his breathing. He was excited, struggling for control.
There was the sudden flare of a match, and in the flickering light she saw the heavy features of the driver who had picked her up earlier in the day. His lips were slack and wet, his eyes bright with excitement. He lit a candle and stood it on the flagstones beside her. His face contorted into a lustful grimace as he took in the details of her vulnerability.
Alex shuddered, fearing the sickening desire in the swarthy man’s eyes. He knelt at her feet, which she protectively curled up against her body, and grabbing hold of the corner of the blanket, whipped it away. Alex let out a thin, strangled squeal.
‘No - no please,’ she whimpered, as his lecherous eyes roamed eagerly over her naked and bound body.
He grabbed hold of her ankles and jerked her legs apart so that she was totally exposed. He leered at the junction of her legs where her sex, the curls damp and matted from Peter Tourne’s use of her tied body, gaped to reveal the damp folds within.
He grinned triumphantly, but didn’t look at her face. Instead his stubby fingers moved to her sex, splaying the lips wider so that he could explore her. His thumb brushed her clitoris and she gasped as a lightening bolt of sensation roared through her slim body. The driver grinned again and plunged his fingers inside, playing in the mingled juices of her orgasm and that of his employer’s. He spread the moisture out over her thighs, letting it dribble onto her cold skin then bent closer, sniffing at her sex like a dog. Alex flushed scarlet as he lapped tentatively at the pooled moisture.
‘Please,’ she whispered as he pressed her legs further apart, drinking in the flavours from her helpless body. ‘Please leave me alone. Mr Tourne said he would come back. Mr Tourne...’
The man snorted in derision as Alex’s voice faded - they both knew she was lying.
Her body felt leaden, touched by cold and cramp and the hideous hypnotic caress of the peasant driver. He sat up, his lips obscenely slick, and grinned as he moved his fingers to open the cheeks of her bottom. For an instant his finger caressed the dark forbidden closure behind her sex. Alex, suddenly terrified, squealed and tried to wriggle away from him, realising the direction in which his desire was developing.
The horrible man sniggered, pressing his finger speculatively against the tight, puckered closure.
‘You should be a man,’ he murmured dryly.
Alex snorted. Fear fuelling her anger, she tried to disentangle herself from his disgusting fingers.
Grunting, he knelt on his haunches, the same wet fingers working now on his ragged trousers. His cock - dark and meaty - sprung forwards like a wild animal. She let out a terrified sob as his hands moved back to her bruised sex. Dipping into her with his dirty fingers he spread the fragrant juices of his employer and Alex around her quim, lubricating, spreading. The thick liquid cooled as it touched her body, leaving shiny slick trails. He grinned and leant forward, outlining her nipples with the juices. She could smell the warm ocean musk of her sex.
The driver crouched over her, the pungent smell of his sweat overwhelming and repulsive as he lapped at her breasts, dragging them into his mouth, milking her, sucking her breasts as if he were feeding.
Alex tried to unseat him, but it was impossible, he was far too large and heavy to fight off. Roughly he spread her thighs, twisting her body painfully and stroking her juices over his dark and threatening cock. She shivered and then gasped as he drove his phallus home into her open quim. His yellowed teeth closed around her nipples, biting hard. She yelled out in desperation, and her body bucked instinctively, impaling her further onto his vile cock.
The man sat back a little, his eyes fixed on the junction were his body entered hers, and then he began to pump deep into her, his fingers returning again and again to the tight dark closure behind her quim. She bucked as his finger tried to work its way inside her. He leered down at her and then spat onto his other hand.
She flinched - she knew now that he was intent on buggery and there was nothing she could do to stop him. As she felt him working the saliva into her anus she struggled to blank out the terrifying sensations. His fingers eased their way into the forbidden place, making her flinch as he finally breached the tight band of muscle. With each passing second her rogue
body gave him greater access, until through the walls of her sex she could feel him stroking his own cock.
She shuddered, bright tears of pain rising behind her eyes, fearful that if she fought too hard he would hurt her.
Unbuttoning his shirt he pulled her up towards him so that he could brush his torso against her pale breasts. His chest and shoulders were thickly carpeted with wiry, grey hair that scraped her sensitive nipples. He sniggered again as their skin touched, then he leant forward to kiss her. His thick wet lips tasted of beer and cheap cigars - and the heady aroma of her own body.
As his lips brushed hers again she bit him. His reaction was to growl angrily and sink his teeth into her bottom lip. She felt the bright metallic taste of blood, then surrendered, knowing it was pointless to resist; tied to the floor, what Alex didn’t give him, he could easily take. Fighting her revulsion she opened her mouth to his filthy, invasive kisses.
Above them, unseen by Alex or the driver, Peter Tourne watched the desperate attempts of his gorgeous new guest to unseat her unwanted lover. He lifted a wine glass to his lips and smiled. He’d let his driver know the girl was available, and the man had needed no further encouragement to go and explore his employer’s new house guest. He moved closer to the glass at the edge of his hidden gallery. He knew his driver’s special predilection and wondered if he would indulge himself.
Below, the man pulled his thick cock out of Alex’s slim pale body and lit another candle. It seemed he wanted to see his victim better; wanted to revel in her bondage. Peter Tourne sat back and watched as the man moved closer to Alex and slid his hands under her buttocks. He lifted her pelvis up to his lips, plunging his tongue deep into her sex, lapping and lubricating, whilst, even in the gloom, Peter Tourne could see his driver’s fingers moving back between his victim’s buttocks, fingering the dark tight closure that he preferred.
