EXTRACT FOR
The Kinkiest Girl in Town 1
(John Savage)

It was with an understandable eagerness that I called Tom on Thursday to tell him I was coming over.  "Get your ass over here," he told me.  "I have something wicked planned for you."  The words, by themselves, might have made most girls fearful, but I could hear the amusement in his voice and knew that I would survive whatever ordeal he had planned.  Putting on my nightie and high heels, I scurried over the fence and presented myself at his back door.

"Come into my parlor," he said as he stood aside to let me enter.  I wiggled my ass as I walked passed him.  Guess I'm a natural born flirt.  Or a slut at heart.  One of the two.

"What are your wicked plans for me?" I asked as innocently as I could.  "Something really horrible, no doubt."

He grinned.  "You really are something, you know that?  Well, come on into the bedroom and we'll get you started."

There were the usual ropes resting on the bed and a small cardboard box next to them.

Behind me, I heard him begin with, "I understand your longing for an intense helpless feeling.  That is good because I enjoy creating that in a woman.  So I began to think about ways to increase that feeling."

I was eagerly listening and there was already a certain warmth starting in my sexual parts.

"Of course, the main component in your case is an extreme limitation of movement.  And, of course, the total inability to free yourself from the restraints."

Get on with it, I wanted to shout.  You're not telling me anything I don't already know.

"And there should be compelling reasons why you would want to extract yourself from the restrained condition."  He picked up a piece of rope and began uncoiling it.  "Would you please remove that nightie?  Thank you.  Now, as I was saying, total restraint is not really enough.  You also need something that will make you want to get free.  Desperately want it.  You're following me so far?"

I nodded.  This one-sided conversation was making me scared but also terribly excited.  I dropped the top of my nightie to the floor and pulled down the panties, but left the high heels on.  I really liked them.

"Turn around and put your hands behind you."  He began tying my wrists together.  "I think that knowing a spanking was coming helped make you want to escape, but that was probably not enough incentive.  What we need is something more than a spanking to make you really, really want to get free."  My wrists were bound and he began looping rope around my elbows.  As expected, they were pulled tightly together.  "One answer seemed obvious, increase the amount of pain to the a point where you really are suffering."

His words were making me aware that my arms were already useless and, unless I wanted to kick him, I could not stop him from doing anything he wanted to me.  I was getting nervous.

"Those are very nice tits," he said, looking at my breasts.  With the elbows together behind me, they were standing out proudly, almost arrogantly.  My nipples were already stiff.  "I'll bet there are plenty of nerves in them and they are quite sensitive.  Especially to pain."

Gulp!  Not my poor titties!

His hand was on my bare arm and guiding me out of the bedroom towards the garage.  Why was it, I wondered, that I always seemed to get tied up in his garage?

The garage, as I mentioned, could hold three full sized cars.  Dividing that area were two sets of wooden posts to help hold up the roof.  It was to one of those that he led me.  He guided me down to my knees and then had me back up so my bound arms were hard against the post.  He pulled my feet around behind it and tied them, crossed.  That caused my thighs to open, exposing my shaved pussy.  More lengths of rope were then used to bind my body quite snugly to the post.  The tightly wrapped ropes were above and below my breasts and around my waist.  I was then a prisoner of the post.  Make that a very nervous prisoner.

As Tom left me alone for a few moments, I tested the bondage.  Quite solidly tied, I was.  Escape wouldn't be an option.  I looked up to see that he was positioning a stepladder next to the post I was facing.  He lifted a five gallon plastic bottle of water and positioned that on top of the ladder.  Then he brought a rather large plastic bucket over and set it down next to the ladder.

I was busy trying to figure out what he was doing, and getting more nervous.  What the hell did a big bottle of water have to do with my feeling helpless?  I wasn't sure I wanted to know.  Of course, I would soon enough whether I wanted to or not.

Tom came over and squatted down in front of me.  He held out two small metal things for me to see.  "These are called alligator clips," he said.  "They're used mainly for attaching electrical wires to terminals and such."  He picked up one in his fingers and squeezed it.  I gasped.  It looked like a little alligator's mouth!  Complete with sharp teeth!  The jaws were lined with those metal teeth and there was a spring attached.  He was squeezing the spring so the jaws would open.  If he let go, the jaws would clamp shut.  I moaned.

"You're not really going to put those on me, are you?" I said with more than a little tremble in my voice.

"Oh, yes I am."  He had the audacity to grin as he said it.  "They will hurt, but not too badly.  Unless..."  There came a dramatic pause for effect.  "Unless something pulls on them.  Then they can hurt terribly."

He reached out with that clip towards my left nipple.  I cried out in real fear as the metal jaws came near my poor little nip.  Needless to say, I struggled to get my breasts away from that horrid thing, but the ropes prevented me from moving even the slightest.  Tom let the jaws close slowly.  I felt the tiny points pressing against my flesh.  They felt really sharp.  Then they were pressing harder and I was gritting my teeth.  He was right, of course, they did hurt.  Not screaming time hurt, but something I would rather avoid.  Have you ever had a cat bite down on your hand?  It was sort of like that.  I whined and begged him to take it off.

When he released the clip, it was solidly clamped on.  I was pretty sure that I couldn't shake it off, even if I could shake my breasts, which the tight ropes prevented.  And it hurt.  I could feel those sharp points digging in my flesh.  I tried to accept this fate stoically, but when the second clip approached my other nipple, I began to plead.

"No, please no!  That hurts!  Tom, please!"  And other things along those lines.  I was ignored, of course.  The second clip closed on my right nipple and sent sharp pains shooting into my breast.

Tom backed away and watched as I frantically tried to shake my chest to dislodge them.  "That won't work," he told me.  "Those springs are pretty strong."

"No shit!" I complained.  "Get them off!"

In a maddeningly casual voice, he stood and walked towards the stepladder.  "Now, you will notice this bottle of water up here has a small valve in it.  When I turn it just the slightest, the water will begin to drip out."  He demonstrated.  I could just see a few drops fall to the floor before he turned it back off.  He was walking back to me.  "You will note that I have tied thin cord to those clips."

I looked down.  In my fear of the sharp teeth, I had missed that each clip had a thin cord tied to the spring.  The cords came together after about three feet to form one much longer cord.  His intent suddenly flashed into my mind, evoking a terrible sense of dread.

"You aren't going to...  Oh, no you don't.  I don't want that.  Aren't these things bad enough?"

Tom was busy ignoring me and threading that cord through a small metal ring screwed into the post ten feet away from me.  That ring was at the level of my head, kneeling as I was.  He pulled that plastic bucket over and tied the cord to the handle of it.  But only after lifting the bucket up so it was totally off the floor.  In fact, the handle was touching the ring, which left the bottom of the bucket a good two feet off the floor.  When he let go of the bucket, its weight pulled on the cord and that, in turn, made the clips pull on my nipples.

"Are you getting the idea?" he asked me.

Unfortunately I was.  That bucket was big enough to hold most of the water in that five gallon bottle.  And he was positioning the ladder so that the drip from the bottle would fall into the bucket.  It didn't take a genius to figure out that the water was going to slowly fill up the bucket and weigh it down.  And the bucket was tied to those clips on my nipples.  Which meant that before long I would be screaming in pain.

"Oh, Tom, please don't do this to me!  Spank me instead.  Hard as you want."

"I may do that afterwards anyway," he informed.  "For failure to escape from this bondage."

"Shit!" I said aloud.  "You're a mean bastard!"

"I've been called worse."

With the torture apparatus set up to his liking, he came back over to me.  But not until after he had turned that valve and a slow drip of water began to fall into the bucket.

"I, of course, will now leave you alone.  I figure that it will take that drip about an hour and a half to fill the bucket.  The slowly increasing weight will pull on those clips and the pain will increase.  But very slowly.  Ah, I can see in your eyes that you fully understand.  Very good.  This should make you really feel helpless.  Will it not?"

I was too busy glaring at him to answer that stupid question.  I was also trying to think of something I could say that would make him change his mind and not torture me.  Nothing came to my mind.  I could claim that this would do damage to my poor nipples but I wasn't sure that was true.  And maybe he had done this before and knew that the clips wouldn't tear my nipples off.  Just hurt like hell, but really do no damage.  Beyond a few tiny holes, of course.

He started for the door but paused and turned back.  "You know that none of the houses in this area are really close together.  But if you should start screaming, someone might hear it.  You wouldn't want the police to be investigating a screaming woman, would you?  I think not.  So don't try it.  Or would you like me to gag you?"

This man was terrible!  A sadist, I came to the conclusion.  But he was right, neither of us wanted to have the police or nosy neighbors snooping around.  But could I keep from yelling out loud if the pain really got too much?

I couldn't believe I was saying it, but what came out of my mouth was, "You had better gag me."

If he was a sadist, I was a masochist.  A match made in heaven.

Grinning, he went to a workbench and picked up a red rubber ball.  As he came near, I saw that it had a thin leather strap poked through it.  He knelt and held the ball in front of my face.  "Open your mouth."

Reluctantly I did.  The ball fitted nicely into my mouth, filling it and forcing my jaw wide open.  He pushed it until the whole ball was centered in my mouth, pushing my tongue down and keeping my teeth from closing.  Then he buckled the strap behind my head.  "I have to buckle this tightly," he said.  "Or you'll be able to push it out."

Tightly was a mild word for how much that strap cut into the sides of my mouth and seemed to be trying to force that ball down my throat.

I tried to tell him that it was too big and uncomfortable but the words wouldn't form properly.  I made some sounds but they were garbled and only made him laugh.  "Can't understand you," he told me.

With one last glance at my helpless, naked body, he smiled and left the garage, turning the light off as he went.  I didn't need it, and why waste electricity?  Anyway, there was some sunlight leaking into the big room.

I was whining pathetically, trying to tell him not to leave me alone.  I was ready to tell him he could fuck the hell out of me if he would only take those clips off.  Of course, I could not convey that offer to him.  He was gone and I couldn't speak anyway.  Talk about feeling helpless!

Tom was right.  He set out to make me feel helpless and this was doing exactly that.  I pulled against the ropes but there were too many and wound too tightly.  I tried to push the ball out of my mouth so I could call to him, but that damned strap was far too tight.  My tongue was not nearly strong enough and was trapped beneath it.

Already the pain in my nipples had increased.  I knew it was mostly because of the weight of the bucket itself pulling on the cord, but it would get worse, probably much worse as the water level inside increased.

I wanted to cry, this was not the stuff my fantasies were made of.  Feeling helpless was one thing, but this hurt!  I mean much more than a spanking.  In fact, I had come to the conclusion that a spanking wasn't really too bad.  It could actually be pretty erotic.  I would have happily traded the present torture for a dozen spankings and figured myself the better for the bargain.

But such a bargain was beyond my powers.  In fact, most anything was beyond my abilities, tied and gagged as I was.  All I could do was feel the increasing pain and wait for it to end.  An hour and a half he had said.  Damn, that was a long time!

Was the pain increasing?  How long had passed?  Time is hard to judge when you're suffering and helpless.  What seemed at least thirty minutes to me was probably only ten.  And could I really feel the increase in pain?  A few drops at a time wasn't much weight.  Probably the increase was more in my imagination than reality.

After what seemed a long time, I was certain the clips were pulling harder at my nipples.  Looking down, I could see that my poor breasts were being pulled out of shape.  And they normally had such a nice shape, too!  A couple times, a guy would grab a nipple between his thumb and finger and pull.  Apparently men like to cause a woman pain that way.  This was like that, at least with respect to the elongation of my flesh. But it hurt much more than a pinch.

It was maybe half way through the ordeal, to judge by the amount of water left in the bottle, that I began to cry.  I couldn't help it.  The sharp pain was definitely much worse, and I began to wonder if there might come a point where the flesh was actually torn by those horrible teeth.  As I cursed myself for getting into this terrible condition, I was aware of intense helplessness.  But...  What surprised me was that the nice feeling of sexual heat was lacking.  At first it had been there, but as the pain increased, I was feeling less and less turned on.  I came to the conclusion that there is a certain point at which pain ceases to be erotically stimulating.  There is some point where the pain overwhelms any pleasure.

That amazing revelation shouldn't have come as such a surprise.  Up to that point, what Tom and I had been doing was not really pain.  Oh, the spanking made me cry, but that was not really bad.  In fact, I sort of fondly looked back on that time spent tied up and over Tom's knee.  But this was pain.

When Tom came in, I was pretty much cried out, but he could see the tracks of the tears down my cheeks and the puffiness of my eyes.  He knew I had been crying.  He looked at the horrible way my nipples were stretched out and grimaced.  Maybe he had underestimated just how intense this would be.

Immediately he took the clips off my nipples.  That act of kindness, however, made me scream into the gag.  The returning circulation woke up nerves in a fresh burst of pain.  It was surprising how much noise I could make even with my mouth filled with rubber ball.  Tom waited until I quieted down before taking the gag out.  Which was a good idea.  I would probably have made much more noise, and certainly would have called him every nasty word I knew.

He untied my ankles and then my body from the post.  As he helped me to stand, I told him, "You had better leave my arms tied or I'll slap you silly."  I didn't mean it as a joke.  I was angry right then, which was fueled by the lingering pain in my nipples.  I was afraid to look down for fear of seeing bloody holes.  When I finally looked down, I was amazed to find there was no blood at all.