Torturous Existence

by Candace Smith

  His head rested on top of hers, and his hand stroked the back of her head. “Yes, my slave, it does have to be this way. Already you test my resolve by trying to seduce me… to lull me into the apathy that had worked before. We are stronger now, and we can resist your trickery.”

  Taylor felt her shudder against his chest. A brief flash of a memory from before, a time when Sarah had rested against him and they had looked at the mountains as the sunset threw the henna shards of light across the cliffs, the reddish brown hue so closely matching the highlights in her beautiful hair… a time when he held her and they spoke of love… a time before he buried her in the family plot on the back acres by the stream. It was stolen from him… all of it… because he was too weak to protect her. He was too weak to insist she stay home at the ranch where she belonged, instead of riding to her sister’s to see if the sickness had reached her. If he had been strong enough to stop her, strong enough to hold onto her and not give in to the pleading tears, she never would have gone over there to let them infect her.

  But this one… this one he could protect. This one would not be allowed to compromise the rationality and rules he knew would keep her safe. He would bind her to him. He would make her as dependent on his desires and words as she was to the very air she breathed, whether she realized the sacrifice he was making to see to her survival or not. His groin ached with his need to submerge his cock deep inside her moist pussy. Just keep her distracted, pleasantly distracted so she does not think too much for herself… or she will be buried with Sarah by the stream.

  Five minutes had passed with him gently stroking her head while she rested against him after he had told her it had to be the way of pain. Sabra felt his despondency after those words. She had no idea where his mind had taken him, but she thought she heard him whisper ‘Sarah’. His hand was getting firmer now, and she knew that whatever memory had pulled him away, was dissipating.

  Taylor pushed away from her, and Sabra missed his warmth. She missed the fingers sifting through her hair, even though she knew his actions were a lie. The icy blue gaze staring at her with cruel intent let her know she was once again no more than his possession, a receptacle for his lust.

  One of his hands stroked her breast, while the other traveled slowly down her belly, sifted through her curls, and parted her folds. She jerked her hips back against the beam and hissed at the pain from the brand. The invading hand followed her movement, still stroking, still gently spreading the cream of arousal she did not want to secrete. Her body trembled as he softly caressed her and fueled the neglected furnace of her womb.

  He knelt before her, and she whimpered, “No… oh god… please. Beat me… whip me if you want to. Don’t do this… oh god… please don’t do this.”

  Taylor spread her swollen lips, and his tongue took one long taste of her. He reveled in his ability to make her tremble and leak. He closed his eyes and lapped at her juices as she wailed in aroused torment. When he found the engorged bead… the penis in miniature that caused her so much pleasure… he teased it mercilessly, almost angry that a woman should deign to try to duplicate the proud staff of a man, and hiding its inadequacy behind a hood of flesh. No… it could not hide from him. If there were a benefit to castrating the fraudulent pulp, he would do it. No, it was better to tease the imposter and let it know what a poor imitation it was.

  Sabra writhed against his mouth, scraping her wound against the beam and her clit against his tongue. The pain and pleasure were culminating in a release more profound than any she had experienced even in the time before… the time when a man did not need a woman’s pain for his pleasure.

  At the first tightening of her muscles, the first indication that she would seek her own gratification, Taylor leaned back and stood up, leaving her quivering and oozing her juices down her thighs while making sure she still longed for the fulfillment of release. She sobbed at his abandonment and at her betraying need for release.

  When he was sure she was edging back down to soft shudders, he inserted a finger, and his cock throbbed in time to her pulsing. His shaft would wear her glove, but not until he was certain she understood the pleasure of the act was for him. There were many other ways for him to satisfy his lust without giving in to the evil seductress’ pleasure. How simple it would be to let the frightened eyes and whimpers control him. He was stronger now… strong enough to keep her safe.

  She was now closing her eyes and rocking into his hand, still convinced he would allow her to cum. His thumb strummed along her clit and she thrust into him, and once again he abandoned her need. The torment in the green depths of her eyes when they finally opened was enflaming in its pitiful humiliation.

  Taylor finished dressing before he unbound the silent woman. Sabra followed him at the end of the leash as they made their way to breakfast at the bunkhouse. As she knelt by Taylor’s knee, she saw Emmy and Betsy still had the look of sanity, the look of commitment not submit to this life. Angie had circles under her eyes, and she glanced fearfully up at the man who was now her master.

  Jocelyn and her master were the last to arrive. He had cleaned her up, and Sabra looked closely at her bruising welts and at the rubber ring holding her mouth open. Her stare was even more vacant than it had been at dinner, and Sabra shuddered. Taylor followed his slave’s gaze and he smiled, but Sabra thought she sensed a quick nervous tick at the corner of one blue eye.

  After breakfast, two of the women remained in the bunkhouse to wash dishes and begin preparing lunch. Apparently, this was their monotonous existence, as after lunch they cleaned up and prepared dinner. They were also responsible for canning the vegetables to store for winter.

  Sabra and her group were led out to the gardens. It was a large plot, perhaps an acre, and the summer planting was well under way. Angie was the only one of their band whose small size regulated her to weeding two long rows. Sabra was deemed strong enough to help to help carry water. A yoke was placed on the back of her neck with a bucket hanging from either end. She watched Taylor mount his large gray horse, and he and several of the other cowboys rode towards the distant cattle.

  Jocelyn’s master remained behind with two others who had spaced themselves along the path to the stream. With long whips in hand, they kept the women moving to the water where they filled their buckets, and then back to the garden where they began watering the seemingly endless sea of new growth.

  Naturally, the new slaves, with the exception of the despondent Jocelyn, tried to group together. Lashes across their stomach, ass and thighs kept them separated as they traveled along the trail. They did manage a quick whisper when they passed each other, and after two cracks of leather, they carefully stared ahead and spoke only through clenched teeth. The next step would probably be gags and the women needed to avoid that at all costs.

  For now, they decided they needed to understand the routine of the place. Betsy was to try to watch out for sentries through town and along the near cliffs. Emmy was to determine what weapons they might acquire, and Sabra was to study the landscape to decide which route they would take. As she was slave to the leader, she was also going to listen to any pertinent news that could help them.

  By lunchtime, Sabra’s back, shoulders and legs were aching. On her last pass by Betsy, she said, “We’ll need to wait a couple of weeks, until we have had time to get used to the labor, or we’ll be too exhausted for a realistic chance of getting away.”

  “I don’t think we should let them know how strong we’re getting. Let them think they’re keeping us too tired to try anything,” Betsy suggested. They relayed the information to Emmy and tried not to feel guilty about Jos. Her body was once again covered in new marks as her owner coaxed her along.

  On one pass, as Jocelyn was slowly making her way to the stream, he dismounted and stormed up to her. He knocked the yoke from her shoulders and she barely flinched… she actually tried to continue a zombie-like walk forward until he grabbed her. “You stupid whore,” he yelled. He pushed her to her knees and a
lthough everything within Sabra wanted to intervene, she continued her chore while she watched the man open his pants with one hand, grab the doctor’s head, and began pumping his whole length through the ring.

  As frightening a spectacle as this was, it was more frightening to watch Jos just kneel there, with her fingertips brushing the dirt by her thighs and her only movements provided by the fists wound through her short hair.

  The man groaned his release and pulled her to a stand, replacing her yoke and laying the whip across her striped ass until she began her slow walk towards the water. When Sabra passed by her, she quickly looked down and avoided staring at the white sticky drool trailing down her friend’s chin. Jocelyn’s mind was gone. Within just one day, her cruel master had managed to give her the same blank stare that was in the eyes of some of the other kneeling slaves Sabra had seen when they were brought to the camp.

  Sabra poured her water onto a plant one row over from where Angie was silently crying. She was covered in dirt and her hands and knees were raw from crawling along the rocky rows. Sabra knew the girl had neither the stamina nor the willpower to join them. She would quickly give up, and once recaptured she would be persuaded into divulging any plans she had overheard. No, Angie has to stay behind. Sabra tried not to think about it.

  When the sun was overhead, a bell rang and Sabra looked up to see Taylor and the other men riding back to camp. She continued to carry water until he dismounted and approached her. After removing the yoke, he led his exhausted sweating slave to lunch. The afternoon was more of the same, but this time, when Taylor came for her, he led her back to the ranch house.

  They walked back to the bathroom and he stripped. It was the first time she had seen him naked, and the sinewy muscles and taut leanness of his body would have been an arousing vision if not for the swollen organ begging for attention. His terrifying spear was stretched to a painful degree by the minute chemical agent the scientist had added to his ‘bug’ as an afterthought.

  Bersus Laboratories had been a top research facility, with a cutting edge team of scientists leading the way in pharmaceutical discoveries that had helped millions of people with their various afflictions. They also had a few dedicated researchers working on more secretive projects for the government. One of the promising discoveries was a compound that would enhance the virility and strength of the soldiers when given in a minute amount. How minute an amount was still being studied, and unfortunately the volatile measurement remained in the experimental stage when it was deemed the world was going to end. The scientist did what all good researchers did… he guessed. He added just a small amount, enough so that if his wife or his daughter were left without him and survived, there would be men strong enough to help them survive their torturous existence.

  So the product of the scientist’s ‘favor’ leered at Sabra with unfathomable arousal, and although in some part of his mind Taylor recognized the change to both his body and his psyche, the enhanced dominance had him conclude these were positive, enviable characteristics. It was merely the girl’s upbringing in a modern society that had caused her reluctance to accept his superior status in the food chain.

  Taylor grabbed her wrist and guided her to the shower. After turning on the warm water, he ordered her to wash herself while he leaned against the marble stall wall. When all the sweat and dirt from the day had rinsed down the drain, he ordered her to wash him as well. Sabra began with his back, and tried to delay the moment when her fingers would be scrubbing through the curls on his chest, down his tight stomach and onto the beast.

  While she soaped the stiff, soft flesh of his cock and then gently attended the soft swollen sack beneath it, Taylor lightly squeezed her breasts and rolled a tight nipple. Again, he had a fleeting memory of the soft heavy weight of slightly smaller breasts with the same deep rose peaks. Sabra’s nipples were larger and plumper than Sarah’s had been, and Taylor was pleased with the difference. Since he had acquired Sabra, his mind kept traveling back to his wife and the time before.

  Sabra had already noticed his far away gaze on a few occasions. She was unaware of what caused it or what Taylor was thinking about, but she was happy for the reprieve from his torment. Just as before, he shook his head as if clearing it, and refocused his gaze on her.

  He pushed her to her knees, and she wailed as he pushed himself into her throat under the cleansing warm spray.

  They entered the dining hall, and Sabra saw Jocelyn staring straight ahead, as despondent and far away from her circumstances as her mind could take her. Angie’s eyes were downcast with fear, and she continuously sniffled and wiped back tears. Betsy, Emmy and Sabra tried to look adequately traumatized while already searching for nicks and dents in the settlement’s structure. They were completely committed to escape, and equally aware of the caution necessary.

  When they returned to the house, Taylor led Sabra into the bedroom. Her mind wandered to thoughts of him naked, and she felt herself lubricate as she anticipated him thrusting inside her. It had been a long time since she had a man filling her, three months before the event, and she guiltily decided it might not be as much of a forced experience as Taylor would expect.

  Instead, he veered her towards another one of the odd furnishings in the room. It was a heavy wooden chair with a railed back and an assortment of leather straps secured to it, some ending in clips. Her brows knit as she tried to discern the purpose of the furniture and how it might be used. What good would it do to strap her into the thing? None of her orifices would be available to him.

  Her ass still throbbed, and when she settled her weight onto the hard wood surface, she tried to shift a little forward to ease the pressure on the wound. Taylor rectified her position when he threaded a strap under her breasts and winched it tightly to the rails running up her back. Another strap ran over her breasts and the back of her collar was clipped in place, leaving her torso immobile with her breasts protruding between the two taut straps.

  Taylor secured her wrist cuffs to the arms, and her fists gripped the end of the wooden armrests as her knees were spread and both those and her ankle cuffs were secured to the sturdy legs. One more thick leather belt ran across the top of her thighs and latched under the seat. Sabra was almost completely immobilized as she sat in the rigid chair and warily watched Taylor.

  He walked over to the dresser and took some things she could not see out of the top drawer. He looked back at her once and smiled a smile that caused her whimpers to begin. Oh god, what now? I didn’t do anything wrong. She wanted to shriek at him to stop tormenting her. If he would just stop his torture, she might be able to like him. She might even willingly give him what he wanted from her. Again, her thoughts traveled to the imaginary world of his light caresses, and she cried softly as she recognized her pussy desiring him much more than her mind did.

  Unlike the odd equipment spaced throughout the bedroom, she knew exactly what the things were that he carried in his hand. There was a needle, two silver rings, and a vibrator. It was the vibrator he chose to use on her first. He spread her folds and ran the smooth device through her moisture, and his eyes narrowed as he watched the mouth of her channel pucker and open as more cream discharged and her breathing altered. Just as before, he stopped her on the edge of the precipice and left her in tormented need.

  He had the desired response as he pinched a taut nipple, most of the puffiness tightened with the same arousal he had left in her clenching pussy. Even with the needle approaching her sensitive tip, she continued to pulse with demanding passion. The needle slipped through and she yelped. It was not as painful as she had anticipated, until he began to thread the slightly larger ring through the hole. She wailed and shrieked in earnest as he reamed her other tip.

  He sat back on his haunches and alternated his intense gaze between studying the newly pierced nipples. Long ago… before… he had asked Sarah to adorn herself in such a way. She had giggled and declined his suggestion. It seemed Sarah was always finding excuses to deny his wishes. Not
this slave. No, this one would do everything he wanted to see to his satisfaction.

  Taylor rewarded the sobbing girl by stroking her glistening folds with the vibrator again, bringing her to the edge of release once more before shutting the machine off and leaving leaking juices and frustrated as the throb in her womb became a dull ache.

  He released her from the chair and her hand traveled to her pussy. He could see the anger in her wet eyes and a determination to disobey his wishes and satisfy herself. Taylor grabbed the front of her collar and raised her to the tips of her toes. Her feet scrambled for purchase and tried to push up to relieve the strangling hold on her throat, while her fingers frantically pried and clawed.

  He smiled calmly and lowered his other hand to her wet slit. “You want this?” he asked in a threatening voice. He stroked the saturated length of her and inserted a finger, pumping while she still gasped and fought to breathe. “You do. You want to gush those juices bottled up inside of you. You want my magnificent cock pushing into your sponge. You reek of need, and yet you deny my claim as your master.”

  He threw her onto the bed, and for a moment Sabra lay gulping for air and sobbing. The sound of his zipper made her turn her head and she stilled, knowing she needed him inside of her and hating him for it. She cringed at the almost venomous hate in his stare. It confused her, and she searched for the sadistic lust she usually saw in his blue eyes while he enjoyed her humiliation and torment.