She never expected he'd be hiding in the back seat.
Now, with her arms handcuffed behind the passenger's seat and mouth duct-taped, he drives her to places unknown, and she is afraid.
The threat is more of a presence than words. He didn't say much from the back seat as he held the knife to her throat 30 minutes ago. He didn't have to. "Keep very quiet and very still," he had ordered. "I've sliced the nipples off better than you, and I'll do it again."
"Put your hands behind the seat," he ordered.
"No," she begged. "Please don't tie me up. I'll do anything you want."
"You'll do that anyway," he said softly. "Now do as your told."
After closing the clasp on the handcuffs, he reached to the side of her seat and flipped the lever holding the seat upright. She gasped in fright as she fell backwards along with the seat until she was nearly reclined, her cuffed hands pressing against the floor behind the seat.
He moved his face next to her ear and held it there, not saying a word. The warm air escaping his nostrils rhythmically penetrated her left ear, but he said nothing. She tried to move her head to the side to get a good look at him, only to have him move her back. Wide-eyed, she stared at the ceiling of her car as his breathing continued, in and out. He moved his mouth and breathed hot air into her ear, and she shuddered, half in fright and half for a reason she chose not to consider. What was happening? What was he going to do to her, with her?
Softly, gently, he whispered in her ear. "Cock. You long for my cock." Then he continued the steady breathing.
She closed her eyes tightly and fought against the warm sensation in her belly. Damn, she thought. What is he doing? What's going to happen to me?
"Open your legs," he gently whispered. It was a command. She knew that. But she didn't even think about it. As if the hot air of his breath had surged directly through her body, she trembled and unconsciously moaned and obeyed, her legs falling apart and going limp. Her captor understood the signal and very slowly positioned his hand directly above her crotch. She rolled her eyes backwards as his finger lifted her skirt and touched her panties.
"My, my," he offered, "my little Bitch is very wet," the words echoed in her mind as she closed her legs and pushed her hips into the seat cushion to hide from his probing finger.
He pulled his hand away and grabbed her throat, moving his mouth close to her ear once again. It was obvious he was angry, yet he whispered in her ear.
"Little girl," his warm breath penetrated her ear, "don't do that again, or I will have to hurt you." His hand closed around her throat, cutting her air flow. "Now open those pretty legs."
Her head was spinning. The stranger's voice was threatening, yet intoxicating, and she obeyed. His hand loosened its grip on her throat and returned to her panties. Slowly, he opened the waistband and slid his hand inside.
"You wet bitch," he whispered in her ear. "You shave your fucking pussy!"
Both embarrassed but strangely excited, she gasped as he slid one finger along her clitoris. Involuntarily, she lifted her hips.
"No, no!" he chided as he moved his hand away and sat up. "Not yet.
"Listen," he whispered in her ear, "I own you now. You know that, don't you? Show me you understand."
He turned her head to the side, forcing her to look at him. Steel blue eyes bore a hole directly through her being, and she was suddenly very afraid.
"Yeah," he nodded. "That's good. Be afraid, my little, wet bitch. Now show me you understand that I own you!"
The warmth returned to her loins as he uttered the words "my little, wet bitch" and she closed her legs together automatically to feel herself throb. She also closed her eyes, partly from the embarrassment and partly to concentrate on the feeling between her legs.
"Yeah," he said with a sinister smile. "That's right. You know, don't you?"
He climbed over into the driver's seat and started the car. He smiled at his bound and reclining captive and drove the car out of the parking garage and into the night air.
"You God-damned business women are all alike," he announced. "You parade around like you fucking own everything, when all you really want is cock. Well, you're gonna get that tonight. That wet pussy of yours is in for a time, alright." He reached across, grabbed the crotch of her panties and tore them from her body in one quick movement. She shivered as the air stroked her smooth, exposed pussy.
The car made its way deep into the ghetto, and her heart pounded wildly. Where was he taking her? He turned down a poorly lit street and slowed. The stench of urine seared her nostrils, and she felt she must be in an alley or somewhere on skid row. Her heart pounded with fear.
The car slowed to a stop in the middle of the block and the window on her side of the car lowered as her abductor pressed the 'down' button. "Hey, you!" he hollered out the window.
Her breath quickened as she heard a male voice respond, "Who, me?"
"Come here, old man, I've got a little something for you."
Her eyes widened as a haggard old drunk leaned his head into the window and she contemplated her predicament. She squirmed to try and escape, but it was no use. She couldn't move. She was trapped and this, this drunk was staring, wide-eyed at her naked pussy. He smelled of urine, body odor and cheap wine. He turned his head and looked straight into her eyes and smiled a toothless smile as he realized she was tied to the car seat. She gasped beneath the duct tape and closed her legs tightly.
"No way, sweet thing," her captor objected as he grabbed her throat once again. He moved his face close to her ear and whispered, "Now get those pretty little legs open before I hurt you."
Her breathing quickened and she closed her eyes, obediently opening her legs to the leering eyes of the drunken bum.
Her captor slowly lit a cigarette and announced to the man, "How'd you like to make 20 bucks?"
The drunk jerked his head toward the driver and nodded approval.
"Finger fuck her until she comes."
Her heart beat against her chest and her eyes widened in both fear and disgust as she once again slammed her legs tightly shut. She tried to cry out, but the duct tape muzzled her scream. She began whimpering but soon gasped in horror as the switchblade clicked open in front of her face.
"I told you to open your fucking legs, you little bitch, and I meant it," her attacker announced. The sickening breath of the wino brushed across her nostrils as he leaned in the window and laughed. Her captor continued, "Now here's the deal, little one. You're gonna spread those legs for this old man and you're going to enjoy what he does to you, or the knife will replace his finger."
His face was just above hers, his piercing eyes staring into the very core of her being.
"Do you understand?" he demanded.
She was frantic. Deep inside, she cried out for help, but there was no one to hear her or help her. She was all alone and helpless, completely in the control of a maniac. What choice did she have but to obey? Stay alive, she thought. I have to stay alive.
She nodded her head. He put his knife away and moved his lips once again to her ear. "That's a good little girl," he whispered. "Now take a deep breath, relax and open those fucking legs of yours. We're not leaving until you come. Do you understand?"
She nodded again. Fear overwhelmed her. There was no doubt about that. But her rapid breath and heartbeat were accompanied by a tingling warmth between her legs that she didn't want to admit but couldn't deny. What was happening to her?
"Good girl," he responded, positioning himself back in the driver's seat.
The old bum was excited as he took the 20-dollar bill and shoved it in his pocket. He'd never seen such beautiful legs and the sight of her shaved pussy overwhelmed him. "I ain't never touched no bald pussy," he announced as his breathing quickened.
His first touch was soft, and it surprised her. She closed her eyes and moaned as his dirty finger found her wetness and backed off, sliding slowly over her clitoris. Back again he went, first to dip his finger ever so slightly in the now flowing juice of her inner lips, then up the shaft of her clit. Her legs fell open even more, as he continued a third time, a fourth and beyond. Her chest heaved up and down in rhythm with his touch, and she blushed in deep shame at the reality that she was aroused and nothing else seemed to matter.
"Damn," the old wino muttered. "This woman is wet as all get out."
Her captor smiled and moved his hand to his own crotch, for he, too, found it hard to ignore his own excitement.
Without warning, the old man's large, strong finger penetrated her to the hilt, and she gasped and pressed her cunt against it. The old coot moved his finger back and forth over her G-spot, sending waves of ecstasy over her entire body. Heat flashed across her loins and shot up into her face. He inserted a second finger and continued to maul her pussy, and she gave in to the feelings that were there. Fear vanished and along with it, the shame, as she lifted her hips - and her glistening pussy - to greet every thrust. What's happening to me?
A noise began far beyond her throat and raced to the surface as the old wino continue to finger fuck her wet cunt. The sound exploded as a muffled scream and her entire body shivered and trembled. Her pussy grabbed the attacking fingers and clung to them, and she exploded in the most intense orgasm she'd ever known. Back and forth. Back and forth. She shook her head back and forth and, for a moment, completely forgot the danger around her, lost in wave after throbbing wave of unspeakable pleasure.
"Lookit there," the old bum sputtered. "The little slut's coming all over me."
"Okay. Enough!" her captor announced suddenly while shoving the drunk away from the window. "You've had your fun, now get the hell out of here."
He pressed the button on the automatic window, and it lifted upwards as the drunk shuffled away into the darkness. With her eyes closed, she faced the door, and the only sound in the car was her heavy breathing. He said nothing. He didn't have to say anything. She could feel his presence, and that was all that mattered. Her legs lay spread apart and she was limp, spent from the power of the orgasm. She couldn't think clearly. What on earth had just happened, and why had she responded to the touch of that, that foul beast? She felt tired, too tired to think about such things, and she was still quite helpless, her hands still cuffed behind the reclined seatback of the passenger seat.
Then his familiar whisper was back at her ear.
"I know what you're thinking," he offered. "You don't want to admit that you enjoyed the hell out of that old bastard taking you with his fingers. You don't want to admit it, do you?"
"Do you?" he demanded an answer.
She shook her head in agreement.
"But you did enjoy it, didn't you?"
"Didn't you?" he demanded.
Again, she agreed by nodding.
"You've always known," he whispered in her ear, "that a little tramp lived deep inside you. You live two lives, little girl. At work you pretend to be all tough and bossy, but you know that's just an act. Inside, you're a hot little bitch, aren't you?"
The warmth of his breath in her ear and the words he spoke brought the tingling back between her legs. She fought it with all she could, but his verbal assault was relentless.
"Bitch," he whispered, dragging the word out to extreme length. "The little girl just wants to be fucked."
His lips engulfed her ear and his tongue probed the opening. She moaned and her heartbeat quickened once again. As his tongue explored her ear, he reached up with his left hand and slowly undid the duct tape imprisoning her mouth. She gasped as the tape was finally removed, and he returned to his whisper.
"I want you to say 'please'," he commanded. "Pleeeeeeze, Mister. Call me mister."
Quick breaths were now entering and exiting her mouth as she listened intently.
"Say it," he demanded. His whisper was intoxicating and the heat in her loins was unmistakable once again.
"Puh, puh, please," she mumbled.
"Say it," he repeated.
"Please," she responded. "Please, Mister."
"Please what?" he asked.
She knew what he wanted her to say, but she couldn't. No, she thought. I could never say that. Not here. Not like this.
He rested his hand just above her shimmering pussy and repeated, "Please what? Beg me to fuck you, little girl. That pretty little head of yours may think otherwise, but your pussy WANTS the words to come out of your sweet mouth.
"Now say it. Say it. Say it. Please, Mister. You know the rest."
His hand slid lower and her breathing came even quicker.
"Please fuck me, Mister."
She couldn't believe she'd just said it. Maybe he was right. Maybe she was just a slut who wanted to be fucked. Maybe she deserved to be in this position. Hell, maybe this was what she'd been waiting for all her life. She didn't know and didn't care anymore.
"Fuck me, Mister. I'm just a little girl who wants to be fucked."
"Say the magic word."
He sat upright, put the car into gear and announced, "In good time, little one."
"I know JUST the place for you," he continued, reaching for her wet pussy.
The cool breeze of fresh air blew across her body as her captor opened the passenger side door. They had driven for about 30 minutes. The only sound in the car had been her moans while the man fondled the inner lips of her pussy. She tried to see out the door, but she was still reclined in the seat with her hands cuffed behind the seatback. He put his left hand just above her cuffed hands, flipped the switch on the side of the seat, and raised her to a seated position. She felt woozy as gravity took blood from her brain.
"No funny business," he said, "when I take these cuffs off, understand?"
She nodded her head.
He looked at her for a moment, then moved his lips to her ear and whispered, "Say 'yes, Mister.'"
She lowered her head and dutifully replied, "Yes, Mister."
"That's a good, little girl," he said, reaching behind the seat to undo the handcuffs. "You're not going anywhere. You can't."
Once free, she quickly brought her arms in front of her, straightened her dress and rubbed her shoulders. It felt good to not have them twisted as they'd been for the past hour or so.
"Come on," he ordered. "Let's be a good girl and get out of the car."
"Where, where are we?" she asked, her long legs turning to the right to exit the passenger's side.
"You don't need to know. It's just a gym on the Southside," her captor answered. He took her hand and pulled her to her feet. Her legs were weak, and she shuddered and nearly fell before he caught her and held her up. She looked him straight in those penetrating blue eyes and pulled away. He grabbed her arm, twisted it behind her back and yanked her against his chest. His eyes stared into hers until a shiver ran down her back and she looked away.
The neighborhood was quiet. It was, after all, very late. There were no other cars on the street, and a streetlight half a block away was the only light she could see.
He turned and opened the door, pushing her inside.
As the door closed behind her, her heart began to beat rapidly once again. The place was dimly lit and in the distance she could hear the thumpity-thumpity of a boxer working a speed bag. They were not alone.
"The first thing you notice," he announced, breathing deeply, "is the smell."
She closed her eyes and breathed in.
"There's nothing like it anywhere else. When you think of gyms or workout centers, you smell the jocks and the sweat, but this is different. I've brought women like you here before, and they say it's intoxicating. Must be the testosterone...
"...or maybe the fear."
She gulped as the word slithered its way across her mind. She WAS afraid. That she knew. Even though she wasn't bound, she was as much his prisoner now as she was in the car, perhaps even more so. After all, she hadn't tried to run away outside. His breath in her ear broke the confusion.
"Take your clothes off, little one," he whispered. "Keep your heels on, but you need to be completely naked for this." He reached up and held her head in place as his tongue probed her ear. The warmth returned between her legs and she fought for composure, but the relentless tongue filled her mind with colors and sounds and she was overwhelmed.
"What do you say?" he asked.
"Yes, Mister," she responded, reaching for the buttons on her blouse.
He stood back and watched as she removed the blouse and undid the zipper on her miniskirt. The skirt fell to the ground, and her body quivered. Is it cold in here, she thought? What's happening to me?
She dropped the bra and faced her captor completely nude. Her left hand moved to cover the split of her shaved pussy, while her right hand covered her breasts. She'd never felt quite this vulnerable, naked in front of a maniac whose eyes were taking in every inch of her shivering body.
"Put your hands behind your back," he ordered.
"Please don't tie me up any more," she whimpered. "Please. I'll do what you want."
"Please, what?" he demanded an answer.
He grabbed her hair and pulled her face directly in front of his. "You're just a slutty little girl, aren't you?"
"Y, yes, Mister."
"Say it." he demanded. "Tell me what you are."
"I, I'm just a slutty little girl."
"And what is it that slutty little girls want?"
"They want to be fucked."
She paused. Her heart racing as she looked into his eyes. She was breathing deeply now, and the scent of the gym filled her flaring nostrils.
"Ask me, damn it!"
"Please fuck me, Mister."
His mouth found its way to her left ear and he whispered, "I own you, bitch. I'll do what I want to do with you."
The word 'bitch' had always bothered her. She'd heard the men at the office use it to describe her. She'd always thought it sexist and demeaning, but when it came out of her captor's mouth, the word stabbed her in the loins and made her knees weak.
"Now put your hands behind your back and walk towards the sound."
He let her go, and she obeyed, the sound of her high heels echoing as she made her way across the wooden floor of the gym towards the sound of speed bag and the plan of her captor.
She walked through an open door into another, smaller room and gasped. In the corner, an enormous black man rhythmically pounded the speed bag. The bag was fastened to a brace and hung beneath the man's chin. He was at least 7 feet tall. "Thumpity-thumpity-thumpity," the bag rocketed back and forth off the bracket.
She turned and tried to escape, but her captor turned her back around to face the giant man.
"Look, Baby," he spoke into her ear. "I didn't hold a knife to your throat or a gun to your head to get you in here, and I don't think I need to do that anymore. You're not here because I'm forcing you. You're here because you want to be here and because you need to be here. So don't pull that coy shit on me now."
"You're just a bad little girl who needs to be punished. Now keep those hands behind your back."
Maybe he was right. Her head swirled in confusion as she stared at the boxer. His shoulders were roughly 40 inches across, and his hands the size of baseball mitts. Sweat poured from his muscled body, and she found herself breathing quick, short breaths in anticipation of what might happen next.
"Thumpity-thumpity-thumpity," the bag continued its dance at the skilled hands of the boxing giant. He wore loose black trunks and moved his feet back and forth in rhythm with the speed bag. She was frightened but her eyes were glued to the sight.
"Henry," her captor called to the man. The speed bag stopped as he dropped his hands to his side and turned. He had an empty face, the kind you see on a man who's lived too much of life without rewards, and his eyes slowly moved up and down at the sight of a naked white woman standing 30 feet from him.
"Yez, boss?" he replied.
"Henry, come here and meet somebody," he invited. Then he moved his lips to her ear and added, "Your hands are frozen behind your back. Remember that. No matter what happens, keep those hands in place. He's a giant of a man who could kill you with one blow."
The boxer towered above her petite, 5'3" frame, and she found herself staring at his rippled stomach when he arrived in front of her.
"Henry, this little lady has come our way for some, ah, shall we say 'entertainment', and I'd like you to help us out."
"Yazzur," he answered. She was trembling uncontrollably as she stood in front of the huge black man. He backed away to get a better look at her. "Whatcha want ol' Henry to do?"
"Tie her to the stanchion that holds the punching bag over there. I want her to barely touch the ground. Understand?"
"Yez, boss," he nodded.
Her captor moved once again to her ear. "Now spread your legs. Henry has a special way of carrying little girls like you."
Her mind raced. She panicked at the thought of this, this gorilla touching her much less carrying her anywhere. The giant cupped both of her breasts, sending electricity across her loins. The man's hands and fingers were so huge that they nearly touched behind her back as he rubbed her sensitive nipples with the wrapped palms of his hands. The gauze was wet and rough, and her nipples hardened immediately from the rubbing.
Her captor smiled and said, "Spread your legs like a good little girl."
Her head fell backwards and she dutifully opened her legs. The muscular boxer slid his right hand down her abdomen and over her throbbing pussy. The thumb rested alongside her left leg while his fingers dug their way in halfway up her smooth butt. He braced her back with his left hand and lifted her off the ground with his right. Instinctively, she grabbed his wrist for support, and she remember that this was one of the ways daddy used to lift her when she really was just a little girl. As she grabbed his wrist, he forced the middle finger of his right hand deep into her pussy. The finger was at least 8 inches long, and it took her breath away.
So there she was, suspended and sitting on his right hand with one finger inserted into her wetness. He turned and moved in the direction of the punching bag, all the while moving his finger in rapid circles inside of her. His wrist was so big that she couldn't get her fingers all the way around it, but she squeezed it and held on for dear life.
His black eyes looked into hers, and she felt her hips begin to move by themselves. She opened her mouth to aid her breathing and her eyes rolled back as she alternately clenched and released the probing finger. He tossed her about like a limp doll, forcing her pussy up and down the length of the finger as he did.
Daddy, please, her mind swirled. Daddy, make me come.
Her body stiffened as the orgasm overtook her. She wanted to feel every bit of this one, so she kept still and gave herself to what was happening. She pressed against his hand, and he stopped moving to enjoy the tiny little white girl that was coming in his right hand.
"Aaaaahhhhhhh" she moaned as her body shivered and quaked.
"Yazzur, boss," Henry grinned. "That be number one, huh?"
Her captor nodded and answered, "Actually, it's about number three. Now get her up on that stanchion."
The giant boxer removed his finger as he set her down. He put the wet finger in his mouth and reached for a short, thick rope that was hanging in a circle on the wall. He grabbed both of her little hands in his left hand as his right wrapped the thick, soft rope around her wrists. After making 6 turns with the rope, he moved it between her wrists and wound it around the 6 loops, binding her helplessly in the process. He lifted her again and dropped the end of the rope over the steel beam that held the punching bag in place. He positioned her directly next to the stuffed bag, drew her arms up above her head, and stretched the rope tight until she was standing on her tip toes in her heels.
Her pussy was still buzzing from the orgasm, as the huge man backed away. There she was, hanging like a limp piece of meat right next to a punching bag. The leather bag was cracked in a few places and seemed to have absorbed the smell of the gym over years or use. Her mind was lost between fear and her own passion, in a place where pain and pleasure combined to feed a hunger she'd never really known she'd had. She was naked, helpless and exposed in front of these two men, and yet she wanted them to continue with whatever they had in mind.
She tensed her legs and rubbed her thighs together, creating a tiny friction between the lips of her shaved pussy and sending waves of pleasure through her body once again. Her clit throbbed and her mind begged for release.
"Please, Mister," she announced. "Please fuck me."
"Okay, Henry," he responded. "Do your thing."
The giant boxer moved forward and began pummeling the punching bag. A right. A left. A right again. The bag gave way from the blows and each one jarred the beam with such force that she bounced and shook along with it.
"Wham! Whack!" the bag cried as the boxer's fist rammed it from either side. The blows were only inches from her helpless body, and the man's muscles rippled, flexed and glistened with sweat.
Her breathing grew more rapid and she began shaking uncontrollably as another orgasm raced to surface. "Ah, ah, ah, ahhhhhhhhhhhhh," she cried as her whole body rocked and bounced from the blows to the punching bag and the intensity of her release. She stood on her tip toes, straining against the rope and bucked her hips back and forth.
Again and again, the muscled black man pounded the bag. She caught the rhythm of the blows and began thrusting her hips forward an instant before each landed. Over and over, the helpless captive came, until she screamed.
"Please, Mister," she begged. "Please fuck me."
The blue-eyed stranger moved close and whispered in her ear, "Yes, little one. Yeah, I think you're ready for that now."
Her captor backed away and motioned to the boxer to cut her down.
She couldn't believe her own ears, begging this, this strange man to make love to her. No! That wasn't it at all! She wanted to be fucked. Fuck! She heard the word echo through her mind. A dirty word. A word only bad girls use. Fuck! She heard her own voice drift in her head. What's happening to me? Just a little while ago, I was a well-respected business executive, and now look at me. Fuck me. She heard the words again. Please, Mister. Fuck me.
Her breathing quickened once again as the giant man undid the rope fastening her to the stanchion. As his hands worked the rope above her, his body rubbed against hers. Her nipples slid across his wet torso sending impulses to her throbbing clit. She moaned. Bad girl, she thought. I'm a bad girl who wants to be fucked. The smell. Fresh sweat has its own life, and the energy reached deep inside her and took her breath away. She gasped. Fuck me! The words tormented her. Please, Mister. Fuck me.
She could feel the weight of his bulging cock against her as he pulled the rope over the bar. Her weight came down on her feet, and the giant boxed pulled away. No, she thought. No, please. She reached for the punching bag to steady herself.
Now unable to remove the thoughts from her mind, she gave into them. Every image of herself was shattered in an explosion that went to the core of her being. Her skin tingled and wave after wave of goose bumps rolled across her back and arms, causing her to shiver. But she wasn't cold. No, she was warm and glowing, and her steady, deep breathing caused her mouth to open in wanton abandon. She wasn't herself anymore. She belonged to him, to them.
She stood there in her heels, naked with her chest rising and falling, mouth open, hands bound in front of her. Both men stood and watched. Her eyes stared at both of them, but only half open. The throbbing in her pussy was so strong that she thought the men must surely notice.
"Please," she repeated aloud. "Please, Mister, please fuck me."
"Get on your knees," he commanded and she obeyed.
He turned to the boxer and said, "Go in the backroom, Henry, and set up the ironing board. We're going to help this naughty little girl, aren't we?"
"Yazzur, Boss," he replied as he turned to leave. "I be wantin' some o' dat muhself."
The giant left and they were alone. The gym was eerily quiet, and she could hear herself breathe. He positioned himself directly in front of her and said, "Look in my eyes."
She tilted her head backwards and looked at him. His eyes cut right through to her soul. He just stared as if probing to test her, to see if there way anything she was holding back. Her mouth remained open and her heart beat rapidly as she looked back at the man.
He opened his mouth to speak, never breaking eye contact. "When I say something to you, your response is, 'Yes, Mister.' Do you understand?"
"You will not disobey me. Never. Do you understand that?"
"I own you now."
"WHY do I own you?" he asked. He hadn't blinked since he first opened his mouth.
She was confused. "I don't understand."
"Beg me to fuck you, little girl," he commanded.
"Please," she pleaded with her eyes. "Please fuck me."
"I own you, because you give yourself to me. I've no need to take anything from you or force you to do anything." Tell me you understand."
"Yes, Mister. I understand."
"You're my little bitch now." She felt that word directly beneath her clit. "You're a slave to your own desire. On the outside, you want respect. But inside, you're a garden-variety slut."
"Now lower your head," he commanded.
As she did, another orgasm overtook her and she trembled uncontrollably. She panted as the temporary release pounded at her pussy and demanded more.
In front of her, the man's pants fell to the ground. He held a thick cock in his left hand and stroked it back and forth. Lips parted, she stared at the swollen member and longed to have it between her legs.
"You want my cock," he stated rather matter-of-factly.
"Yes, Mister," she replied as her whole body shook and bounced.
"Good little girls get candy, but bad little girls get cock. Which are you?"
"I-I'm a bad little girl."
He slapped her hard, "WHACK!" Then, he reached across and gently stroked her hair.
"Your teeth are not to touch Daddy's cock," he said firmly. "You may gag if you need to, but if you touch me with your teeth, something very bad will happen. Now, breathe through your nose. You're going to take every inch of this into that sweet little throat of yours."
Her mouth fell open and the man slowly moved his throbbing cock past her tongue and into her throat. She gagged and he waited until just before she was going to throw up before removing his cock and letting her swallow.
"Breathe through your nose, you little bitch! You can do it. Don't fight it. Don't try to hold your breath. Show me you can swallow this fucking cock!"
He rammed the bulging rod deep into her throat and caught her by surprise. She fought the gagging sensation and breathed through her nose like she'd been taught. He held her head tightly with both hands now and forced her lips into the forest of hair that surrounded his dick. He held himself still as she adjusted to the gag reflex. Then, he moved his hips in circles, forcing her to take every fraction of an inch into her velvety mouth.
"Move your tongue around, God damn it!" he shouted.
Her face was now jammed against his belly, she wiggled her little tongue as best she could. Her throat was impaled by the man's swollen cock. She struggled to breathe. Muffled noises came from her throat as he tightened his grip on her head and continued the relentless gyrating of his hips. She was limp and bounced around like a rag doll as he began to groan.
"Play with yourself, you little cunt! Finger fuck yourself NOW!"
She grabbed her own crotch with both hands and began assaulting her drenched pussy with her own fingers. Her mind was blank to what was happening, and she was too far gone to care. Wave after wave of pain and pleasure crested and broke across her being. She was his fuck slut to do with as he pleased. She wanted it. She knew that.
Suddenly, he arched his back and screamed. "Aaaauuuuugggghhhhh!" he cried out as his cock pulsated and spewed deep in her throat. His entire body shuddered, and she found herself suddenly energized. She ground her face into his crotch, twisting and turning. Strength. She felt such strength as her assailant poured himself into her throat.
He released his grip on her head, and she slowly pulled back. His glistening cock stared at her, and she smiled to herself as she kissed the head and pulled it back into her mouth. I AM a fuck slut, she thought. I want to come. I want that big cock in my cunt, and I want to come.
He removed his cock, stepped back and slapped her hard.
She winced and grabbed her face with her bound hands. Confused, she looked up.
"Put your hands down," he demanded.
He stuffed his cock back in his pants as she did as she was told.
"SMACK!" He slapped her again, this time on her other cheek.
The pain raced to her brain, but something else was there too.
"Henry," he shouted to the back room. "Bring me the leather strap."
He lowered himself and moved his mouth to her ear. He said nothing, but his warm breath penetrated her ear and stirred inside her. "Please, Mister," he whispered. Her own breathing quickened again. "I've been a bad girl, Mister." he continued breathing into her ear as he whispered. "I need to be spanked."
She shivered as the word searched her mind for resistance. She went limp as he whispered, "Now get on your belly with your hands above you and offer me your ass."
He stood up as she rolled to her side and then onto her stomach. The hardwood floor was cold against her warm, tender skin.
"SMACK!" She winced as her master cracked the leather strap into the air above her like a whip.
"Now raise your ass high into the air," he commanded and she obeyed. "Higher," he insisted. "God damn it! I want your ass reaching for the fucking sky!"
"SMACK!" The leather strap tore across her bottom sending waves of pain across her consciousness. She pressed into the floor to escape. Terror raced through her mind, and she began to shake. Why? Why was this happening to her? Help me. Please help me.
"WHACK!" The strap followed her to the floor. "SMACK!" Again and again, he whipped her tender little ass.
Then it stopped. He reached down, tenderly stroked the cheeks of her bottom and whispered, "Give yourself to the strap, little one. Don't fight it. Surrender. It will set you free."
He moved close to her ear and whispered, "Now offer your ass to the sky."
The pain now gave way to an intense feeling she had never known, a strange form of acceptance and belonging. She opened her eyes and stared at the floor. A renewed strength came over her, and she did what she was told.
Her ass wiggled and shook as she tried to reach it higher and higher. Here she was, a fuck slut on display for 2 complete strangers. She pressed against her hands and arched her back.
"Little girl," he announced. "You will come when the leather touches your skin."
He rested the strap across her quivering butt, and she began trembling. Her clit throbbed and cried out for release. Slowly, he moved the strap again, and she exploded in another intense orgasm. As her whole body shook, he raised the strap.
"SMACK!" It crashed across her little bottom with such force that a welt was raised immediately, and she cried out in a desperate plea for more.
"Oh God," she begged. "Please fuck me, Mister."
"Carry her into the back room, Henry," he captor directed. "Let's get her ready."
Obediently, the giant lifted her naked, trembling body and held her in his arms. She looked into his eyes but saw nothing. The man was a lifeless machine, she thought. Yet his strength and power overwhelmed her willingness to hide. Limp in his enormous arms, she lost herself in thoughts of King Kong and his helpless victim.
They passed through a door and into a dimly-lit hallway, then though another door and into an area that looked like a large, storage closet. On one wall was one of those deep wash basins. Mops rested in the bottom of the sink, their wooden handles pointing this way and that. Shelves filled with cleaning supplies lined the other walls. One bare light bulb hung overhead and the room smelled musty and damp.
In the middle of the room was an old ironing board, the kind made of wood, with strong, steel legs that folded from the square end of the board. The giant placed her on the board, facing upwards.
She stared at the light above her. Perhaps it was the newness of the room, but she flinched with apprehension. Nevertheless, she continued breathing heavily as her captor pulled her bound hands above her head and whispered in her ear, "Please, Mister. I've been a bad girl and I need to be fucked."
She shivered as the words drifted across her mind again. The words had become her own. The man stood up and continued, "It's an interesting thing about ironing boards. You can adjust them for just about any height, and these old ones are pretty solid. You see, Henry here likes a nice tall platform."
He took the rope that held her wrists together and pulled it to the pointed end of the ironing board and wrapped it around a nail fastened at the point. He then took duct tape and wrapped it around her wrists and the ironing board, effectively attaching her arms and hands to the board itself.
"So what do you think of old Henry here?" he asked as he moved to the square end of the board.
She was confused. What did he want her to say?
"He's a big old buck, he is. And he loves white pussy. Do you understand?"
"Y, yes, Mister," she whimpered.
At the base of the ironing board, he grabbed her hips and pulled her towards him, stretching her arms. Her ass was at the very end of the board, and the downward weight of her legs caused her back to arch and tilted her pelvis forward. With the tape, he bound her right ankle to the steel leg on that side of the board and her left ankle to the opposite side.
He returned to the pointed end of the ironing board and pulled the rope under the board and made a circle around her right knee. As he pulled the rope back and around the middle brace of the ironing board, her right leg was pulled open. Holding the rope taut, he repeated the rope trail around her left knee. He tied off the rope on the middle brace and stood up. She was stretched tightly and spread-eagled at the base of the ironing board. Her chest rose and fell in anticipation of what would come next.
She couldn't move. She didn't care. The fire between her legs pulled her onward. A fuck slut. I'm a fuck slut, a bad little girl who needs it bad.
Henry moved around the board, kneeled at the base, and drove his tongue into her wetness. She began panting as unfamiliar sounds moved from her throat into the air. In and out. In an out. The giant's tongue flicked and stroked the passageway of her pussy. He slurped and slobbered, then covered her entire cunt with his mouth and sucked hard, all the while continuing the relentless thrusting of his tongue.
Her ass was now quivering and trembling uncontrollably as the huge tongue continued its assault.
The whole board rocked and swayed as another orgasm overtook her. The giant smiled and switched his movements, using his tongue in long, gentle strokes over and around her clitty as it throbbed and spewed.
"Please," she begged. "Please fuck me, Mister."
Her captor bent down and whispered in her ear, "Fuck me, Mister Henry. Put your hands all over my naked body and fuck me, Mister Henry." She was now panting continuously, as the giant boxer removed his trunks and jock strap.
"Say it," her captor commanded.
"Please fuck me, Mister Henry."
Henry was now highly aroused. "This big ol' nigger gonna fuck you like you ain't never been fucked, Missy."
"He's got the biggest dick in the city," her captor whispered in her ear. "It's gonna tear you apart, isn't it?"
"Tell him," he commanded. "Tell him what you want...and don't forget to say the magic word, little girl."
"Please, Mister Henry," she pleaded. "Give me that big cock. Please. Rip me apart, you fucking bastard. Fuck this little white girl."
As her captor took her left nipple in his mouth, the head of the giant boxer's cock knocked at the door of her pussy. He teased her with it, mostly just to lubricate it for what was to come. Then, in one quick stroke, he thrust the entire thing deep inside her and held it there as he grabbed her hips. She gasped and rocked her head back and forth at finally receiving her night's reward. Slowly, the giant pulled his hips backwards until his glistening cock was two-thirds the way out. Then he rammed it back inside her, causing her to moan out loud.
"Yes. Please, Mister Henry. Fuck me!"
Bound to the ironing board, all that was left of her disappeared as these two men had their way with her. Her captor pinched and sucked on her nipples, as the enormous giant pummeled away at her drenched pussy. He held her hips tightly and moved his athletic pelvis forward and back as if he was relentlessly pounding an opponent. Wave after continuous wave of orgasm built, subsided and built again, and the ironing board rocked and shook with every thrust.
"Fucking bitch," Henry cried out. "Fucking bitch just needs to be FUCKED!"
The words exploded in her head and only intensified the non-stop orgasm.
"Fucking bitch," he screamed one last time, then rammed himself home grunting and groaning. His cocked throbbed so hard with each release that she felt she was directly connected to his spewing balls. He held her tightly and stood there, muscles taut, and emptied himself deep inside her pussy.
Her head began to swim. The light above her moved in circles as the whole room got lighter and lighter. In the distance, a beeping noise broke the spell, and she shook her head to make it go away. Everything seemed hazy and she grew increasingly uneasy. Was she scared? No, not scared. Angry.
The intensity of the sound finally cut through the haze, and her captors disappeared into that place where dreams are born and return. She opened one eye and found herself in bed staring at her beeping alarm clock. It was 6:30am. Dammit, she thought.
She reached out and smacked the snooze alarm, then dove back into her pillow in a vain attempt to return to the gym. Please, Mister.
She rolled over onto her back, lowered her right hand to her pussy and gently stroked her clitty. She was soaking wet. It was as though she'd been coming all night long. Maybe I was, she thought. The bed beneath her was also damp, but she felt a warmth unlike anything she'd ever known. She opened her eyes and continued moving her fingers around the swollen knob of her clit.
Soon the familiar tingling returned, and she shut her legs tightly to press against her fingers. She closed her eyes, but the man was gone. She listened and strained to hear the airy whisper of his voice, but it was gone too. The wind whistled outside her window, and she heard a loud crack in the distance.
"Please, Mister," she whispered. "I've been such a bad girl, and I need you so."
"Aaaaauuuuugggggghhhhh!" she cried out as her whole body shook from another orgasm. She spread her legs and jammed 3, then 4 fingers into her pussy and violently ravaged its velvety softness. Wave after wave of orgasm passed through her, and she fell back into the bed, spent. The room was silent. Her chest rose and fell.
"What has happened to me? Why am I so damned horny?" she asked, as she pulled her drenched fingers to her nose and mouth. "It, it was so real."
She licked her fingers clean and pulled herself to a sitting position.
The phone on her nightstand rang. Damn, she thought. Who the hell could THAT be?
"Hello," she answered.
"Hi, Sweetie," came a familiar voice on the other end.
"Hi, Daddy," she responded.
"I'm sorry I couldn't return your call last night. I got home late from work."
"That's okay, Daddy," she replied. "My car's in the shop, and I was wondering if you could give me a ride into work."
"Of course, Baby," he answered, "but what's the magic word?"
"Please," she answered, as a warm smile came over her face.