Bondage story - The Phantom of the Roxy - 21

Hauling her back to her feet, he tossed her easily on top of one of the heaps of old costumes. As the soft pile enveloped her momentarily, clouds of dust rose around her, making her cough. When she’d recovered she found her captor standing over her, looking down at her bound body appreciatively.

He wore another 18th century costume, this one not quite as elegant as the one he’d worn before, having less brocade and lace. But the same hat still cast his dark eyes in shadow, and a dark green scarf still hid his lower face.

“Once again you must be taught to submit,” he whispered, sending a chill of dread through the helpless brunette. “That is as it should be. You are a girl with spirit, and I appreciate that. But eventually you will learn.”

He stepped toward her, and in her panic Jessica tried to roll off the mound of musty costumes. He moved like lightning, seizing her by the shoulder and rolling her back again. Then he swung a long leg over the pile and sat down on top of her, straddling her hips. The soft heap absorbed his weight, driving her farther down into it. She was pinned helplessly beneath him, her bound arms under her, tangled in the ancient fabric. Her full, heavy breasts rolled from side to side as she struggled, her bare midriff between the linen halter top and faded jeans taut and ridged.

Taking his time, the Whisperer unbuttoned her halter top. She tried to protest, but the only sound that escaped her gag was a muffed whimper. When the last button came open, the garment fell to either side, allowing her full, naked breasts to bounce free. His hands closed over the soft globes, squeezing them until Jessica squealed in pain. Then he began to roughly fondle her sensitive nipples with his fingers, sending mixed signals of pain and pleasure through her strained nerve endings.

Once again Jessica was helpless in the hands of her insane tormentor, her fear of what he might do to her turning her bowels to icewater. But even more intense than her fear of being hurt was her fear of submission. When he had taken her the frst time, he had released the demons that dwelt within her, awakening the dark desires that she didn’t want to face. He had toyed with her arousal, forcing her to submit to him and driving her to a state in which she had voluntarily humiliated herself! She had been tortured by shame ever since, and she was all too aware that the demons were still there, within her, and that the Whisperer knew how to bring them forth. She simply couldn’t face such humiliation again!

She struggled frantically, but she was hopelessly trapped! Her tender, sensitive breasts were in her captor’s hands, and he was handling them like they were pillows that needed fuffng, unconcerned about her agonized squeals and whimpers.

Without warning, he drew back his leather-gloved hand and slapped her left breast, making it slam into its mate and bounce like a tetherball on a short leash. Jessica screamed through her gag, the shock and pain bringing tears to her eyes. His left hand came down a few moments later and slapped her right breast, setting both globes in motion again before the tremors had fully died away from the frst slap. Then the right came down again…

Jessica bucked and twisted beneath her tormentor, shrieking and gasping at the terrible pain as her sensitive breasts were battered from side to side. The mind-shattering impacts splintered her thoughts, rendering her incapable of considering anything but the agony of the moment. Her dark hair few as she tossed her head to and fro, tangling and covering her face.