Bondage story - The Phantom of the Roxy - 8

All she could see were his eyes. The black widebrimmed hat was pulled down to his brow, and there was a black knit scarf covering the lower half of his face. There was a cluster of white lace at his throat, with what appeared to be a dark red satin vest beneath that. A long black cloak rode his shoulders, of the 18th century French style, and his sleeves were white and full, with tightly-buttoned lace cuffs. It seemed to be a complete 18th century costume straight out of the play she was rehearsing.

But it was the eyes that drew her attention. They were dark eyes, the irises black as the pupils, with thick dark eyebrows above, the wrinkles around them those of an early middle-aged man. But the gaze was so intense! Eyes wide, brows lowered, he looked down at her with a fevered intensity the likes of which she’d never seen before.

As she stared fearfully up at him, he looked her fully, unwaveringly in the eye, despite the distraction of her jiggling naked breasts. “Yes, Jessica,” he hissed. “It is I, your Master. I have claimed you at last!”

Maintaining eye contact, his hands closed over her tits, as though unable to resist them any longer. The soft fesh yielded beneath his grasp, billowing up between his fngers as they dug deeply into the warm, spongy mass. He squeezed them painfully, but at the same time his gloved index fngers rasped across both her nipples. She shuddered at the sensation, whimpering through her gag. He massaged the soft, feshy globes roughly, even brutally, yet his fngers continued to rub the tender pink nipples, and in spite of her terror, Jessica felt them stiffening. Gradually they extended, the aureoles around them puckering, until they stood out like a pair of pink gumdrops. Tingling pleasure spread from them, countering the pain of her captor’s brutal caress.

Shame and horror flled her. NO! This could not be happening! She couldn’t be getting aroused by this monster, this brutal madman! Surely her body knew the difference be- tween lovemaking and rape! She squealed in protest, struggling violently beneath him, but it was hopeless. She wasn’t even able to dislodge his hands from her breasts!

He only chuckled, and continued what he was doing. Her nipples were stiff and swollen, popping up like little punching clowns each time his index fngers scraped across them. Still his eyes held hers, and he was smiling, she could tell, enjoying her humiliation! It was unbearable! She felt the heat in her face and neck as she blushed crimson beneath his gaze. She could no longer look at him, and turned her face away, closing her eyes tightly.

He continued to toy with her big, frm breasts, taking his time. He was moving his hands around on the voluminous orbs now, molding the malleable fesh, squeezing them from every angle and watching them bounce back into shape, and all the time he kept ficking the turgid nipples this way and that. She squirmed beneath him, unable to hold still under the rough handling. Finally she felt him doing something with her right nipple alone, something that made a delicate jingling sound. Then, suddenly, a sharp, intense pain shot through her breast, as though a ferret had just clamped its teeth into her sensitive fesh!

She shrieked and bucked, her eyes staring in horror at the glittering steel clamp he had attached to her right nipple. It was horribly tight, pinching the base of the plump nubbin deeply and making the rest of the nipple swell above it. She continued to shriek as the pain kept on, unabated, but now he was doing the same thing to her left nipple. As he closed the clamp her pain doubled, and she screamed wildly into the gag, her body shuddering. Her eyes stung as they flled with tears, and she stared up at him with disbelieving horror.

“It won’t hurt as much if you hold still,” he whispered. Still squealing and whimpering, Jessica tried to keep still, and gradually the pain lessened somewhat, becoming at least bearable. The Whisperer lifted his body from hers at last, rising to his feet, paying out a thin silver chain through his fngers. The chain was attached to a small ring, from which two more chains ran to the clamps on her nipples. When he stood beside the mattress looking down at her, he twitched the chain once with his index fnger. The ripple shot down the chain and tugged at both clamps at once, sending spikes of agony shooting through Jessica’s nipples, and she cried out.

“Up on your knees, Jessica,” said the Whisperer. “You will now kneel before your Master, just as you were always meant to.”

She stared up at him, the implications of the position he was suggesting all too clear to her. If she obeyed him, she would be submitting to his will, yes, but also she would be symbolically offering her submission to him in the age-old posture of subservience. Once she had done that, what was there that he couldn’t do to her? Where would her submission to him end? She had never offered up her will to any man! Despite the urgings of her secret desires, she had always been her own woman, always maintained control. Yet now this madman, this brutal rapist, was demanding that she submit to him! As if he deserved such a thing! Resolve rose up in her, pushing aside her terror, and her wide, frightened eyes narrowed, her nude body rolling back onto the mattress in defance.

The Whisperer’s eyes widened in surprise. “You would defy me?” he hissed.