Extract
from: “The Hot Potato”
The man, who went by the name of “The
Flogger”, swung his lash again and again across the lovely, naked, bound body
of his captive. Except for his black hood and black jackboots, he was as naked
as she was and the stiff shaft of his cock bobbed and wagged with every blow he
struck.
The muffled
screams of the woman known to him only as “Crystal” were soaked up by the
soundproof walls of his play room. She
was bound to a metal X-shaped cross, the padded centre of which pressed against
the small of her back. The cross had an
axle through its middle that was fixed at each end to swivel joints mounted on
the posts of its supporting frame.
Crystal’s arms and legs were twisted and bent sharply at the elbows and
knees so that they were doubled up under her body and strapped to the back
struts of the cross. It almost made it
look as though the lower ends of her limbs were missing, leaving only her head
and torso. That suited the Flogger
perfectly: letting him get closer to her while focusing his attention on her
most intimate parts.
Her thighs
were spread wide and her hips were pushed forward, lifting her belly outwards
so that her back was arched. The front
of her body was held down by more straps bound about her thighs, waist and
neck. She had a rubber ring gag jammed
into her mouth, keeping her lips wide and her teeth bared.
The cross
could be flipped and turned about on its mount, so that he could position her
head-up or head-down; with her breasts upwards or dangling beneath her with her
bottom exposed, or with her widespread thighs and the moist pink gash between
them open towards him. He was her total
master and he could do more or less he wanted to her, within the terms of his
hire agreement with the men who had supplied her.
By now,
Crystal’s body was a mess, which was also the way the Flogger liked it. However, this was largely an illusion. The rubber lash he was using on her was
impregnated with purple ink, leaving lurid slashes across her skin from knees
to shoulders. She was still suffering,
though. The thongs still stung and
burned as they cut into her soft flesh, making it blush, and she yelped and
jerked in real pain, dribbling about her gag.
The sight
made his straining cock twitch again and he could feel the pressure behind it
becoming irresistible. He flipped her
into position and rammed it up into her gaping pussy, while still lashing her
lovely big breasts, which flattened and bounced and slapped about under his
blows. With a grunt of triumph he came
inside her, filling her with his hot sperm.
He felt her hot slippery vaginal tunnel clench tight about him in
response as an orgasm tore through her sweaty body, straining against her
straps and making the cross and its frame creak. Then he sprawled on top of her hot bound
body, feeling her panting for breath beneath him and rested, perfectly
satisfied.
After
several minutes, he pulled his now flaccid cock out of her clinging pussy and
walked around her body and pushed it through her ring gag into her gaping mouth. Still half dazed, her eyes rolled about as
his balls rubbed across her nose while dutifully she licked and sucked him
clean. As a final mark of his
domination, he wiped his penis dry on her hair.
Now he was
satisfied, the Flogger felt a spark of genuine affection for Crystal. He stroked her hot cheeks still stained with
her tears. She had been recommended to
him by others within the exclusive circle of those with similar specialised
interests to his own. She had been
expensive to hire but worth every penny.
A natural: a genuine submissive masochist.
Crystal was
an attractive woman, perhaps in her late twenties, with a well-toned body. Clearly, she looked after herself. Even beaten and exhausted as she was, she had
an air of class and style about her: a professional woman, maybe?
It put him
in mind of one of those cool, well spoken, smartly dressed woman media
presenters, who everybody suspects is steaming hot underneath. Crystal’s hotness was beyond dispute. The juices had poured out of her dripping
vulva. There were splashes of it on the
floor and he could smell it in the air.
She had come for real over him: no faking. She got off on being treated like a
shameless, hungry sex slut.
He stroked
her hair again. ‘How did a classy woman
like you end up with your pussy for hire?’ he muttered, half to himself.
Crystal
heard him through the blissful haze of masochistic delight still filling her
mind like warm candy floss. I was just
going to the airport, she thought, but I never got there…
* * *
The crossroads in the middle of
Tilehurst Woods was a useful shortcut to the nearest main road that would take
Angela to Gatwick airport and her early flight.
At this time of night it should have been deserted, but there was a
confusion of headlights flashing ahead of her accompanied by the sounds of
several powerful engines. These resolved
themselves into the figures of four bikers in leathers and goggles and helmets
and chains riding their bellowing, gleaming chrome machines back and forth
across the junction, performing doughnuts and wheelies and raising clouds of
burnt rubber.
The wild,
careless irresponsibility the sight of them represented, so very different from
her own orderly lifestyle, made Angela angry.
She hit her horn and flashed her headlights at them. Get out of my way, she thought!
But they did
not make way. Instead, they broke off
from their games and circled their bikes around her car. This only angered her even more and she
leaned out of the driver-side window.
‘You’re blocking the road! Get
out of my way.’
‘Going
somewhere important, are you?’ a big ginger bearded biker asked, pulling up
beside her. His eyes were covered by
tinted goggles.
She tried to
sound reasonable. ‘I’m going on holiday and I’ve got to get to Gatwick to catch
an early flight. Now please get out of
the way…’
The ginger
biker peered into the car. ‘Going on
holiday alone? A pretty woman like you
hasn’t got a man to go with her? Or a
girlfriend? We’re not prejudiced, are we
lads?’
A mocking
cheer rose up from the other bikers.
‘It’s none
of your business whether I go alone or not,’ she snapped. ‘Now for the last
time, get out of my way!’
He kicked
down the support struts of his bike and leaned closer. Suddenly he sounded menacing. ‘Nobody tells Big Red to get out of their
way!’
Then she
realized that the biker on the other side of the car was also leaning into
it. She had the windows down for
ventilation. Suddenly feeling
vulnerable, she pressed the switch to close them, but he held the rising panel
of glass down, so the safety cut-out stopped it rising further.
‘Somebody
wants to get to know you better, Angela,’ Big Red said with a grin.
How did he
know her name!
For the
first time Angela felt real fear. She
tried to grab her bag with her phone in it which was on the passenger seat, but
the other biker picked it up. As she
twisted round and tried to grab it and pull it back, Big Red reached in through
her window and took hold of her by her hair with one hand, while with the other
he pressed a cloth over her nose and mouth, stifling her scream. A chemical scent filled her sinuses and
burned her throat as her desperate intake of breath sucked it down into her
lungs… cloying… heavy… dizzy… blackness…
* * *
Angela hauled herself out of the
darkness back into the light. Her head was throbbing and spinning and she felt
sick and there was a strange taste in her mouth, which was wedged open by what
seemed to be a rubber ball that pressed her tongue down. It was threaded onto some elastic cord that
cut into the corners of her mouth and pulled her lips back and exposed her
teeth. Why had she got a rubber ball in
her mouth, she wondered foolishly?
More
questions filled her fuzzy mind. How was
she standing up when her legs felt too weak to hold her…what was pinching about
her neck and arms and ankles… and why was she totally naked?
Filled with
a sudden thrill of horror, she groaned and blinked the gum out of her eyes and
made them focus.
She was
looking down the length of a large room with a stained concrete floor,
corrugated sheet iron walls and lattice iron frame roofs beams. Its windows were covered by sheets of
translucent plastic through which shone suffused golden morning light. Four motor bikes were parked at one end in
front of a set of double doors and beside a big tool cabinet on wheels. Bike parts and chains hung about the walls
looking like heavy metal decorations.
Under them was a row of mismatched, patched and battered chairs on which
lounged three of the bikers who had stopped her in the woods. They still had their helmets and goggles on
and were drinking from cans and bottles while watching something involving
screeches of tyres, shouts and gunfire on a big flat screen TV hung on the wall
opposite.
To one side
of them was a large table at which “Big Red”, also still goggled and helmeted,
sat hunched over a laptop. There was something on the table beside the
laptop. It looked like her phone! And he was plugging it into the other
machine. What was he doing with it? And how had he known her name?
Angela
blinked at the men foolishly, realising they just had to look around to see her
naked body. But then of course they had
already seen it. They must have stripped
her… handling her all over with their filthy hands… Oh God, she thought, trying
not to be sick, even as her nipples stood up, what else might they have done to
her? Feeling dirty and defiled, she
tried to move, to cover herself, but she could not. She twisted her head round to see why.
On either
side of her, a pair of scaffolding poles rose out of base plates bolted to the
floor to one of the roof beams above her head.
A third pole set almost at head height and secured by scaffold couplers
crossed between the first two. Her arms
were stretched out sideways along this pole to which they had been tied about
with loops of bungee cord from wrists to shoulders. Another bungee was looped about her neck,
holding her head up. Two more long cords
ran inwards from the bases of the scaffolding poles and were wrapped tightly
about her ankles, holding her legs apart.
She was standing on a black plastic sheet that had been spread out
between the upright poles. There was
even a short bungee cord threaded through the rubber ball clamped between her
teeth, which was hooked together behind her head.
Feebly she
squirmed and moaned, tugging at her bonds.
But the bungee cords simply absorbed her efforts and then pulled her
back into position again. She was
totally helpless.
But she had
made enough noise to be heard over the racket coming from the television. One of the bikers looked around and nudged
the others. They muted the television
sound. ‘Red… she’s awake,’ one said.
Big Red
finished working on her phone and got up and came over to her. She felt herself cringing inwardly as her
cheeks burned in shame and fear, but she nerved herself to gaze back at him
defiantly.
‘Good of you
to join us again, Angela,’ he said cheerfully.
‘Don’t worry, the headache doesn’t last long. I’ve been waiting for you to wake up so I
could take some pictures to send to our client.
He’ll want to be sure you’re not damaged before he takes delivery…’ He
looked her naked body up and down with evident approval and nodded. ‘… and I think you’re worth every
penny…’
Angela had a
strong, intelligent face, deep keen blue eyes, dark hair, a firm straight nose,
high cheekbones and an expressive mouth.
She was slender with a well toned body which accentuated her full, heavy
natural breasts with perky nipples. She
had womanly hips and well-rounded buttocks and a pink, plump-lipped, pussy
crowned by a neatly trimmed thatch of brown curls.
All this Big
Red was taking in at his leisure, which only redoubled her shame.
She
snivelled and shook her head and tried to speak back to him around her gag, but
it was pinning her tongue down. He held
up a phone and snapped pictures of her from every angle, including a close-up
of her distraught face. Then he made a
call.
‘Marquis?’
he asked cheerfully. ‘Good morning, Big Red here. We’ve got the special item you wanted… Yes,
it was today. Sending you pictures now…
got them? Yes, that one. As you can see, it’s fresh and undamaged…
Yeah, it was just where we thought it would be.
The item’s transport has been taken care of. We’ll dispose of it when things cool
down. So, where shall we arrange a meet
so we can hand it over?’
The “item”
was her, Angela realized in despair. She
had been reduced to a thing: a piece of merchandise…
Up until
now, Big Red had been talking confidently, but suddenly he frowned.
‘What do you
mean, it’s not as attractive as you imagined… How long since you last saw it …
Eh? You’ve never seen it uncovered
before…? You never even had spy pictures
taken… Well maybe you should have done.
Anyway, look at it now: worth every penny… You think it looks cold… No,
it’s hot… Yes, I can prove it, hold on…’
He turned to
the other bikers, who had left the television to gather closer when they heard
the tone of his voice change. Despite
her fear, Angela realized that with their faces covered by beards, goggles and
helmets, and dressed in similar worn sets of jeans, leather jerkins, big boots
and chains, they appeared to be totally anonymous and interchangeable. The only
variation between them was that they wore differently coloured bandannas tied
about their necks.
‘True,’ Red
said to the one wearing the blue bandanna, ‘get the pussy drill screw out. The buyer wants a demo…’
“True” went
to the equipment locker and came back with a cordless power drill that has a
huge rubber screw shaft on its end.
‘Watch
this,’ Red said into the phone, and then pointed it at Angela.
True knelt
between Angel’s spread legs and pushed the huge shaft up into her vulva. The drill began to purr and then judder as it
moved into hammer mode. Angela’s eyes
bulged in horror and she screamed and bit on her gag as the thing entered her
intimate cleft, churning against her flesh, parting her labia and making her
lips shiver.
She tried to
pull away from it, but there was no escape. It was so huge and menacing that
she imagined for a moment it tearing a hole in her, but of course it was in
fact penetrating a hole that was already there.
Its rubber sides gave slightly as it churned into her vagina, making her
lower belly vibrate from within.
Half the
terrible shaft had disappeared inside when she gasped and threw back her head
rolled up her eyes with helpless delight.
The relentless vibrations were pummelling the root of her clitoris from
within: so powerful that she could not deny them. Despite her dread, she was responding to its
overwhelming presence, smothering the rational, revolted side of her.
Her natural
shame was pushed into the shadows by a sudden animal lust for pleasure she had
never known before. Her eyes fluttered
and she drooled about her gag as wave upon wave of raw delight flowed up
through her body filled her mind. It was
obscene, insulting and crude and… and incredible! Dimly she was aware of her nipples swelling
up into brazen crowns.
True pulled
the drill out of her wet slot for a moment, splattering her juices over her
thighs, to rub its shiny slick wet spinning shaft over her breasts and hard
nipples, making them throb fit to burst.
Then he thrust the terrible, growling, whirring shaft back inside her,
and she squeezed desperately.
He began to
pump with his whole arm, adding to its impact.
Her lower belly was bulging and sucking upon it. She longer cared if it would do her any
damage. A wonderful, terrible pressure
was building up inside her. It was like
the pre-orgasmic thrill she got using her favourite vibrator, except that it was
ten times worse… or better!
Her hips
were grinding back and forth as if she was riding the churning pussy
drill. She was impaling herself again
and again…
Angela
shrieked about her gag she came over the drill, squeezing its spinning shaft so
tightly that for a few seconds the motor growled as it fought against her
grip. Pleasure fireworks burst in her
brain. There was nothing else but her
body and the thing inside her, driving on and on into a glorious sunset…
Then she
went limp to the sound of the bikers applauding her lustful display.
True pulled
the pussy screw out of her slot, dripping with her juices and held it up in
front of the phone’s camera.
Big Red put
the phone to his ear again. ‘There, you
see. That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever
seen… What, it’s not responsive enough!
But it came… No, you can’t… five hundred for our trouble… But you were
going to pay… I see, take it or leave it… Doesn’t look like we’ve got any
choice, does it... What do we do with
it… put it back… just like that? Hello… Hello?’
He switched
off the phone and scowled at Angela and then the other bikers. ‘No deal.
Looks like we’re stuck with her,’ he said.