Bondage story - The Phantom of the Roxy - 42

Jessica sobbed and howled as he struck again and again and again, alternating the angle so that both bottom- cheeks were equally welted. But with each blow, the strap cracked agonizingly against her delicate pink mound as well, brutalizing that tenderest fesh and sending shockwaves of pain through Jessica like nothing she had ever experienced before. The adrenaline that pumped through her body after that frst terrible blow helped a little, but she was made agonizingly aware that her soft little pussy was a part of her that was never intended for enduring the blows of a strap. When at last the awful tawse stopped falling between her legs, her body continued to convulse as sobs wracked her diaphragm. The Whisperer once more stepped up close to her, and his gloved fngers again took liberties with her cringing fesh. After he had stretched the mouth of her throbbing pussy once more with his fngers, she felt the cool knob of a rubber dildo force itself inside her. She groaned as a thick shaft followed, flling her inner recesses with a fat, unyielding rubber phallus. Having inserted it fully into her, he left it there while he prepared a second dildo. This one he lubricated with some sort of odorless oil, and then, with only a rudimentary preparation of the orifce with his oiled fngers, he forced the second shaft into her tight rectum. She wailed and cried at the violation of her bottom, but he paid her no heed, and didn’t stop pushing until the second dildo was painfully deep within her.

The two dildos were linked by two thin cords that were threaded through horizontal holes in the instruments’ bases. After tying a separate cord around her slim waist, the Whisperer tied the linking cord to the waist cord, both front and back. As he did so, he made sure that the two strands of the link cord dug deep into the soft pink fesh on either side of the little cowl that sheltered her clit. When he pulled the cord tight, two things happened. One, it drove both dildos even deeper into her body, and two, it drew back that tiny cowl and bared the delicate pearl of her clit. When it was as tight as he could make it, he tied it off and stepped back. Jessica was gasping at the sensation of being so flled with thick rubber, front and rear at once. She had never felt anything like it before. It seemed like she couldn’t fll her lungs with air because she was already so full. Seeing her torturer standing back and gazing at her made her realize what a spectacle she must be with the dildos protruding from her body, and her shame and humiliation rose once more to burn her ears and swamp her senses. She closed her eyes against the scene, but it made it all no less real.

The Whisperer circled her slowly, enjoying both the sight of her degrading situation and the effect it was having on her. The beauty of her magnifcent body, spread-eagled upside-down, her muscles taut and glistening with sweat, was dazzling all by itself. The added thrill of her forced violation and the way she cringed in humiliated anguish made her nearly irresistible. He had every intention of forcing his throbbing cock into her mouth and making her suck him to climax, but he intended to make her dance to the whip for a while frst. Seeing her like this, he was sorely tempted to skip the whipping and feed her his hard penis right now!

Somehow, he made himself wait. The whip was a threefoot braided and tapered viper of black leather, with an eightinch leather lash at the end. He savored the fear in her eyes when she saw him circling her with it in his hand.

“Had you come to me when I called,” he hissed as he took up a stance behind her, “this would be going very differently.”

The whip snaked out with a deceptive slowness, the thin thong at the end snapping out in a blur of sudden speed to strike Jessica’s taut, upside-down bottom. When the shrieking and writhing were done, there was a sharp, bright pink weal laid horizontally across the vertical ones he’d made with the tawse. Mercilessly, the Whisperer laid into her defenseless fesh. With each stroke, Jessica’s superb body squirmed and twisted wildly in the air, gleaming with sweat, her lean muscles convulsing in reaction to the awful, searing agony of the whip. Her desperate cries were like music to her torturer, a perverse aria that she sang just for him, each note torn from the very depths of her soul. He painted her writhing naked body with pink stripes of pain, moving from her bottom to her back, then up to the backs of her thighs. He circled, lashing out at her from every angle, striping her hips and lower belly, her bouncing breasts, and the tender fesh on the insides of her thighs. He struck with forethought and precision, whipping her thoroughly in all her intimate, sensitive places, but never straying onto the upper slopes of her breasts or her midriff area, the parts of her body that she habitually displayed with the halter tops she liked to wear.