One of the goons reaches up to the top of my nightgown and pulls. It tears easily, splitting in almost two perfect parts. Top bare, I press myself against the brickwork, nipples tender against the rough surface. My back is warmed by the fire to the side as the goon takes hold of my underwear and with a snap tears it from my body.
I cry, tears dripping freely from my cheeks at this debasement and humiliation.
The goons laugh. One of them takes a handful of buttock. I flinch forward again, screaming louder.
My spread legs expose my cleft. It opens between my legs as I tremor and breathe hard, my heart pounding like never before.
I become aware only of the sound of my panting and the crackle of the fire to the side. I can no longer hear the goons.
Where are they?
“Hello?” I call out, voice trembling.
“Hello, Lucia,” a man responds.
I know the voice immediately.
Don Gianno.
The bag is lifted from my head and I snap it left and right to take in my surroundings.
I’m in a well-furnished room with chains and instruments of bondage hung on the walls between brickwork and wooden panels. A large fire simmers beside me as I remain spread out in an X on the wall, my bare ass facing Don Gianno at my back.
I have never been so humiliated, so ashamed.
“My father,” I start. “When he finds out…”
“I am not afraid of your father, piccolo rosa,” he laughs, oddly mirroring Franco’s very own words earlier today.
Gianno slaps me hard across the buttocks with his open hand and I cry out. He walks behind me back and forth. “I’m afraid your father is not being, how shall I put it, cooperative.”
“You are extorting him.”
The don laughs. “Yes, that is quite correct. How old are you, Lucia?”
“Eighteen,” I reply.
“That is a very astute observation for a girl so young.”
He slaps my buttocks higher with the back of his hand, right near the top of my spine.
I hold myself firm and resolute. I will not be ashamed so in this monster’s grip.
“Your ass is exquisite. I now understand why your father has hidden you away these last few years.”
He brushes my ass and I flinch again.
He laughs, coming beside me and holding my face to his gaze.
I want to spit at him, to hit him, but bound as I am I can do nothing.
His eyes fall to my breasts. He reaches down to cup one. It fills his hand easily, nipple pressed into his palm.
“I am going to hurt you, Lucia. Your father must be punished, you see. It is the only way he will learn.”
He walks along the line of whips, paddles and straps, finally selecting a large wooden rod. He whips it through the air, testing its rigidity. “I would like to say this is going to hurt me as much as it hurts you, but I’m afraid I take great pleasure in dispensing pain, especially for one so young and nubile as yourself.”
He comes behind me. My entire body stiffens as the iron cuffs rub rough against my ankles and wrists. “Prepare your ass, child. For it may never be the same again.”
I hear the rod swipe through the air with astonishing speed. When it contacts my ass the pain is so strong, so immense I border on passing out. It is like I have been struck with fire itself, a burning line of pain lighting up my ass cheeks.
Thwack! The rod strikes again, lower, just tickling the back of my virgin cunt as I scream loud and hard. The pain blossoms and spreads throughout my backside. It blooms.
“Please!” I cry, but the rod comes again yet harder and my skin breaks, the blow reverberating right through my fragile frame.
“Please, don’t… Ah!” I cry once more as a series of sharp blows are delivered in a quick series, striking around the back of my thighs and ass, no inch of it left spared from the rod’s scorching bite.
There’s a lull, a pause as the don tries to recover his own breath. I turn my head to find he has his shirt off, his pants tented out with a fierce erection. He looks like an animal, lean and muscular, an alpha male of the very highest order. He is a handsome man, but nothing about his body looks gentle, nor kind.
He raises the rod back high and braces himself.
I cannot watch. I lean forward, placing my forehead against the brickwork, my hair hiding my tears as the rod strikes and I snap forward hard. My mouth opens into a perfect loop as the pain seems to go on infinitely. The burn is so intense, so brutally complete I can think of nothing else except for my poor, broken ass.
I slump in my bounds, letting my wrists take my weight as I whimper.
The don, sweating, places the rod back on the wall and comes towards me, the tip of his erection digging into the side of my thigh.
His hands run over the criss-crossed globes of my ass and I recoil again, gritting my teeth together.
But his touch is different now, soothing. Against everything I know I find myself pressing backwards against his hand, wanting more and tears flowing even freer with this horrid knowledge and dark desire.
His touch leaves and I’m almost disappointing until I remember the monster he is, the many crimes he has committed in this town, the murders, the lost children and girls.
“Lucia, Lucia,” he says, towelling his body in the corner. “My cock has never been so hard. You are a rare beauty, of that there can be no doubt. But with great beauty unfortunately comes great tragedy. Mark my words, before the night is out you will be calling my name. You will beg me for release, but not yet. For now I have something very special to show you, something I am sure will get your father’s attention.”
“Tell me,” he continues. “Are you a virgin, piccolo rosa?”
I keep my mouth shut. He takes a large bullwhip from the wall and lets it unravel. He whips it through the air, the tip cracking right at my ear.
“This one will break you. It will tear the flesh right off your bones.”
“Yes,” I concede.
“Yes what?”
“I am a virgin.”
He smiles by my side. “Very good. Very, very good.”
He places the whip back. At least I am not to endure it’s bite.
The don gives a whistle and two goons re-enter the room, moving around to me to undo the cuffs.
My wrists and ankles are ringed red, raw from struggling in them while I was assaulted.
It’s pointless trying to resist. I let them take me down in their arms.
I am shocked to feel I am wet between my legs.
Does this night of shame know no bounds?
I just want to go home, to forget it all and never let my father find out. It would destroy him.
My head is spinning from the punishment. I can still feel with acute sensation the ghost of each blow as it came against my skin, so unblemished and untarnished until now, kissed only by the sun.
I’m still delirious with pain when they drag me into the next room, my feet scuttling along the pavers.
I look up in horror at what appears to be a giant wooden pyramid with a metallic tip. Above it is a cobweb of ropes and pulleys. In the centre of it all is a large collar of sorts.
I know that whatever this device is, it is not one made to bring death quickly.
“Ah,” says the don, “my true love. Do you know what it is called, piccolo rosa?”
When I provide no answer, the don laughs. “It is the Judas Chair, or as we call it, culla di Giuda.”
He moves around it, running his hands over the wooden supports as if it were a lover. “I had this one commissioned especially for my purpose from Vienna.” He gestures to the top of the pyramid, covered by metal. “The point is sharp, but blunted. Unlike our friends abroad, we like to keep our victims on the chair as long as possible for maximum… pleasure.”
I still cannot picture how the machine works, but the way the don is smiling pushes a cold ball right into the pit of my stomach.
“The harness, too,” he continues, poi
nting to the tangle of ropes and leather above, can be controlled from several points, allowing the lucky victim to be lowered with the utmost precision, and I am all about precision, my dear. In this light I consider myself a sort of puppeteer. Let me show you.”
With a snap of the don’s fingers the guards drag me forward and bring me to my feet. Another lowers the harness down above the pyramid and works to fasten it around my waist. The leather is cool on my skin. I don’t struggle. What vigour I had for protest has fast been depleted by the thrashing I have just received.
Another guard comes behind my back and begins to fasten my wrists together with rope while yet another, unbeknownst until now, works to attach more to my feet.
Bound completely, they move to the pullies at the wall and I am lifted upwards. My feet go first and the leather surrounding my waist bites down into my skin. My legs span out and apart, exposing my sex as I am steadily hoisted upwards as if common cargo onto a ship.
When I am high enough, another pulley snaps into place I begin to swing out over the sharpened point of the pyramid. It is only now that the true horror of the device’s nature becomes apparent.
The rope is rough against my wrists, wringing the gentle flesh there as I squirm, the harness keeping me held in place as I swing gently above the top of the pyramid.
The pulleys strain above and my legs tug apart until the joints in my pelvis strain and I cry out aloud.
The don claps his lands. “Yes, piccolo rosa! Sing for me!”
I close my mouth, not intending to give him the satisfaction.
He pouts. “Oh, now now. You will be singing again soon enough. You have my guarantee.” He places his hands behind his back and watches on, nodding at the goons to continue.
My body begins to tremble, a fresh and cold sweat building on my brow.
I am lowered until the very tip of the device is barely an inch away from the opening of my sex.
I am cradled aloft, incapacitated and completely at the mercy of these criminals.
My father will kill you all. There will be no refuge for you, no compassion.
The ropes suddenly give a start as a rotating lever to the side is pulled by the don himself. It makes a craning noise and I gasp as the cold metallic tip of the pyramid presses past my folds, kissing the sensitive hole beyond.
“I had it cleaned for you,” the don says, watching on with eager eyes. “That is a luxury I do not provide most of our… guests. Be thankful.”
The don moves the lever again and I am lowered further, the pyramid tip making full contact with my skin and beginning to press into my virginal sex.
It cannot happen. Not like this.
“I am a virgin,” I cry out, tears forming in my eyes. “Please.”
The don steps away from the lever, shocked. “Ah, yes. Is that so?”
I nod.
“I see. I see.”
He paces, thinking, before raising a finger as if a thought has just assaulted his head. “There is no need to panic. The cradle will make an excellent lover,” and as he moves back towards the lever I object again, furiously pleading with him as his fingers close around the lever and he pulls hard.
The top of the pyramid presses past my moist folds and penetrates past the outer ring of my sex.
I wheeze a little, surprised at the intrusion and the way my vulva conforms around the instrument of torture.
The don holds me there before pulling the lever a little further.
I whimper again as the metallic tip presses deeper, wider now and opening me up further until the blunt apex of it comes against the thin buttress of my maidenhead.
I hover there, unwilling to make any move, adjust any muscle that might impale me further.
I know that at any moment the don could drop the lever completely and my weight would skewer me on the pyramid, the tip of the Judas Chair hammering up into my insides. The thrill is almost erotic, bordering that fine line that skirts between death and sexuality, a line I have not known until now when it is thrust before me.
Ever so slowly the don pulls the lever and my hymen stretches to breaking point. I cry out and try to lift up to no avail.
It was to be Franco. We had even picked out a spot in the field. I had often masturbated thinking of him, the way he would slide into my body. It was to be perfect.
Such thoughts comfort me as the lever drops more and the tip of the pyramid runs right through my hymen and into my soaking cunt.
The air is driven from my lungs, the pyramid getting wider as I drop. It stretches me out from every angle, the pyramid oddly shaped and unnatural, never meant to be placed into a body.
The sting of the initial penetration dissipates and I find myself oddly rocking forward to take more of the device inside my orifice. I squeeze down upon it, test new muscles and sensation as my head lolls in the air and my nipples turn to diamond points on dark areolas.
“Ah, you enjoy it, my chair,” the don says, pulling the lever again until the pyramid sinks deeper until I the tip prods right into the deep and hot confines of my tiny cunt. He pulls until half the pyramid is swallowed completely, the ring of my sex drawn painfully wide and obscene as I sit there in limbo, finally fucked and deflowered.
I don’t know if my poor sex can accommodate any more. Another drop and I will break, the tip of the pyramid driven into my womb and vital organs beyond.
The don has other plans.
He uses another leave to lift me up slightly and then let me down with the other. In this way, I am pulled up and down on the pyramid, slowly fucked by this contraption as the sensation swells and builds and I shamefully spill fresh desire to make the unholy act even easier.
“See how she grows wet for it!” the don laughs, showing the goons. “She is a born minx.”
Up and down I am lowered, the harness tight around my waist and my wrists pulled awkwardly behind my back as inch by inch I take more of the pyramid until I am truly at breaking point, the harsh angles of the pyramid turning my only moment ago innocent tunnel into a squared-out bore wet with liquid.
I smell it, my desire, my sweat, sex all around me as I am pulled high and the pyramid leaves me, my flowered lips closing once more and my hole left open and dripping. I look down to see the metallic tip of the chair glistening with my moisture, shiny and wet.
Don Gianno claps his hands below. “You have done well, Lucia, but I can tell you crave a real cock of flesh and blood.”
“No,” I cry out, but my young body says otherwise, an odd twitch causing my cunt to spasm and squeeze as I swing.
The don instructs the goons, who move me away from the chair and lower me slowly down towards the don.
The harness pulls tighter around me, the leather wet as the ropes strain either side and my wrists plead for clemency.
Down I am lowered as the don undoes his trousers and steps out of them.
The cock that comes free, slapping against his chest, is a monstrosity, a fearsome pylon the length and girth of a rolling pin. However a woman could take it into her confines I do not know. It would simply not be possible. Deep down, I know I am about to find out, to be fucked and abused by this grandest of criminals and extortionists, my humiliation complete.
I am lowered enough for the don to hold me under the thighs, moving between my legs and adjusting his cock in line with my cunt.
I drop until the ball of his member slips between the pillowy creases of my cunt and rests in the wet oyster inside, leaking preliminary desire against my already suffering hole.
The don gives an order and the lowering stops. His hands slide until they cradle my buttocks. He leans forward and takes one of my nipples into his mouth, pulling it to twice its length with his teeth as I mew and beg for mercy.
New desire coats the head of his cock as it begins to slide inside me.
I don’t know what I am feeling any more. My mind wants one thing and my body another as the goons look on with greedy, greasy eyes, their pants a triangle as the don smiles, gold tee
th gleaming.
“And now, piccolo rosa, for my cock.”
He gives another order and I am dropped suddenly, his giant member gliding deep into my slit and filling me almost in one gulping thrust.
My eyes pop wide open and I buck in the restraints at the feeling of being filled by an actual man.
The don squeezes my ass cheeks and buries his face between my breasts as he slides out and thrusts forward again, cock bloody and slick with my desire and lost virginity as at least three-quarters of his cock is consumed in my petite shaft.
My muscles, wet, grip his cock tightly, massage him as his chest rides up against the top of my cleft to bring a strange and wonderful friction that turns my head and body wild.
No, not with him, not with this monster inside you!
“Oh,” leaves my mouth as the goon adjusts the resistants and I sink lower, taking in more of the don’s cock in my cunt until the base of it presses against my pubis and there is finally no daylight between us as I have somehow expanded to take him.
His lips are at my ear, his tongue curling around the shell of cartilage inside. “You take my cock well, piccolo rosa. I have never encountered one so wet and eager.”
“Please,” I whisper back, as his body comes against me and I try and swing forward to meet his thrusts, thinking not of my father or Franco, but now only of finding the summit of this mountain I am scaling.
It builds and bubbles, his cock pumping hard upwards into my body like a piston in Father’s factory, forever pumping, squelching, driving deeper and deeper, finding new zones of pleasure in the darkest pockets of my body until I cannot help but beg “please” over and over as I am fucked.
“Please what?” the don counters.
“Please, Don Gianno.”
I don’t know what I’m pleading for, do not know what a climax is until it strikes me with the force of a battering ram, blasting through my body as I thrash and scream in my restraints, mind ablaze and cunt clamping down in quickening contractions.
Cruel Devices 3: Forbidden Punishment Collection (Extreme Dark Defloration Bondage) Page 3
