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TTOB stretch the thing kept burrowing


Disclaimer:(standard) Do not screw up. Do not do anything illegal.
This includes specifically (but not limited to) reading on if you are
under 18- 21 in some localities If you are underage you must leave
now. If you're young and curious, this is not the place to get the
straight story. You act like this and people will look at you strange
and give you a wide berth. Also, don't try this at home. Some of this
stuff is just plain wrong, most of it is unsafe in the present viral
climate and some of it doesn't work in this universe. They are stories.
They deal with ideas, fantasies and thoughts that might not even be
pleasant in real life. Thoughts are like that. Fantasies are there so
we can toy with the sensations without feeling or inflicting the pain,
despair or humiliation. End Sermon.

Hand-me-down Baggage (Ttob.txt) - You can be Christine or you can
be Elisa according to whether you want to be a victim full time or part
time. BDSM Mdom, Fdom, BDSM (there's a lot of it)
Hand-me-down Baggage

Christine remembered a lively conversation with a perky blonde.
Then she remembered nothing. She was in a dark moving space when she
came to her senses.
When the lid opened the dim light let her see that she had been
thrown in the trunk of a car. A shadowly shape blocked the center
of the light and tugged at her.
"Get out of there," a woman's voice ordered her.
Christine came alive in anger. She didn't know how she had gotten
into the trunk, but she was determined to make her annoyance known.
She tried to spring out of the trunk and tackle the woman.
Her feet were tangled and her lunge from her knees was a humorous
imitation of the spring she'd envisioned. The woman still had a grip on
her collar and grabbed her elbow with her other hand. Using those
handles, she dumped Christine unceremoniously on the ground head first.
"You can try that again or you can save yourself a beating and
walk into the house," the woman scoffed.
Christine was suddenly dizzy after her exertion. She gathered
herself slowly and got up on unsteady feet. The woman gripped her
strongly and Christine realized she needed the support. A struggle
would be pointless. She let the woman half drag, half push her into
the house.

There was nothing familiar there. It was expensively funished but
Christine was sure it was a stranger's house. Again she was confused,
why, how, had she been brought here, why, why, why?
Snippets of confused conversation told her nothing. She wasn't
sure she had ever seen this dark woman before. If she was at the bar,
then she had kept to the periphery.
The woman pushed her through the house to a door opening on stairs
down. Christine sensed the danger, but the danger of falling down the
stairs kept her concentration on not missing a step as she descended
into the danger.
Half the basement was furnished. Two chairs, a sofa, a low table
all resting on a persian rug. The other half was arrayed like a dungeon.
Instruments of torture lay on a table. Chains hung from a beam.
Christine was in a panic.
"If you want to salvage more than scraps, you better take off
your clothes yourself," this woman said.
Christine tried to believe she heard wrong. It fit in a terrible
and certain way. There was no reason to abduct her for ransom. No one
she knew had that kind of money. There could only be a twisted sexual
motive for her kidnapping, but Christine hoped to wish it away.
Her abductor had reached for the buttons of her own blouse. She
paused and scowled at Christine.
"I will rip them off if you don't start taking them off right
now!" she screeched.
Her hands went away from her blouse and settled on her hips as
she stood and waited for Christine to begin. She stood and watched
until Christine skinned down her panties and tried to cover her
naked body with her hands.
"Good girl," the woman oozed, "Now come over here with me."
Christine at first thought she was reaching for her hand to lead
her somewhere. Instead, her thumb pinched down inside Christine's wrist
and she was spun around as the woman turned her wrist in her hand.
She tried to pull at the woman's hand, but by the time she was
oriented to the sudden spin her wrist was secured in a leather cuff and
the woman grabbed at her other hand to pull it over to where the other
chain hung from the beam.
With her hands secured, the woman had no trouble pulling her feet apart and securing her ankles. Christine was free to spread her legs as
far as she wanted. The restraints only prevented her from closing her
Then the woman put a strain on the chains holding her wrists.
Christine yelped as she was pulled up on tip-toe and suspended there
for a moment. Then the chain relaxed. Christine could take all the
pressure off her arms if she went to her tip toes. There was some
tension in her shoulders when she rested on the balls of her feet.
It was impossible to lower her heels to the floor.
Christine balanced there naked and helpless as the women's hands
went back to the buttons of her blouse. The woman chattered as she
removed her clothes.
"You are my plaything now," she giggled, taking a lighter
attitude now Christine was her prisoner, "We will have lots of fun- at
least I think it's fun."
She stepped out of Christine's view when she had taken off her
blouse, stockings and skirt. When she returned a few minutes later, the
white bra and panties had become severe black stockings fastened to a
leather bustier that covered her torso and half her breasts. Below a
leather thong completed the look of cruel control.
"My name is Elisa. You will call me mistress or mistress Elisa,"
she sneered. "You will no doubt resist this and I will have the
opportunity to teach you to obey."
She reached up and stroked Christine's face.
"I like that part very much," she smiled. "I doubt you will."
"What are you going to do to me, mistress?" Christine asked,
careful to give her no reason to correct her, "Why have you tied me up?"
"Because pets obey better when they have no choice," Elisa said
coldly. "And you look so pretty hanging there."
'Pretty' reminded Christine of her first fear as Elisa dragged
her into the basement. But there was no hunger in Elisa's eyes, only
evil. If Elisa had kidnapped her out of lesbian lust, then she was
hiding it well.
She was not hiding her fierce expression. Elisa looked like a
hungry animal as she assessed her captive. Christine now feared her
homicidal mania.
"But pretty is not enough," Elisa went on, "I need to make you
beautiful. You are so pale."
Elisa went to the table and returned holding a ugly device. It
had a short handle and dozens of long tongues like a feather duster
having a bad hair day. Christine recoiled as Elisa put the thing on her
and then was surprised to feel how soft the strips were. They seemed to
be made of suede and felt vaguely erotic as Elisa stroked them over her
"See," Elisa said as Christine relaxed, "I only want the best for
my toys."
Then Christine found out how hard soft could be. With a flick of
her wrist, Elisa snapped the flogger against Christine's belly just
below her tits.
It was a muffled pain, but it hurt nonetheless. Christine could
feel a tingle spreading over the area that was struck.
"Ahhh, you have thick skin," Elisa said, "You are so pale I was
afraid you'd bruise too easily."
Then the flogger came up under Christine's left tit. Elisa had
swung harder this time. The blow wasn't so much muffled as clumsy
feeling as the tongues of the flogger fell in a muddle of places on
her breastflesh. And it hurt the tender tit.
Christine could feel heat along with the tingling for the second
before Elisa snapped the flogger down on her right tit. One of the
tongues stung her nipple and Christine yelped.
"Why do you have to beat me?" Christine begged, "Please don't
hurt me- I'll do whatever you want!"
Elisa carried on- a downstroke on her left breast and an upstroke on her right. The tingle was becoming pain as Elisa flogged her tits
again and again.
As she beat her, Elisa answered Christine's pleas, "I want you to
be pretty- all rosy all over. And you will do whatever I want in any
case. You have no choice."
Christine's tits felt like they were badly sunburned as Elisa
moved down her belly. Despite the way the flogger warmed her skin,
Christine had a cold feeling in her stomach as the lashes moved down
toward her crotch. Neither the blows or the aftermath had been brutal
so far- with the exception of the tip that had so stung her nipple-
but Christine didn't think her sex would escape the blows so lightly.
She tried to twist in her chains as the flogger fell over the
top of one thigh.
"Try them, test them, see that you can't escape," Elisa teased,
"It's good for you to know that you have to take what's coming to you."
Elisa drew out her anticipation with a few more strokes on
Christine's thighs before she brought the many-tongued flogger straight
up between her legs.
At first Christine thought she had escaped the worst. The bunched
flogger felt no worse than a man thrusting hard against her open pussy.
But the heat came even as Elisa aimed a blow with more precision and she felt the tongues wrap around to sting the slices of buttock that hung
just behind the grotto of her sex.
The next blow was all she imagined and she jerked involuntarily
in her restraints as the tips of the tongues bit at her pussy lips.
"Stop! Please! Not there!" Christine screamed "Please don't hurt me!"
Christine knew she had done wrong even though her cries had the
desired effect. Elisa clipped the flogger to some part of her costume
and stepped up to Christine. Christine was chilled with the import as
Elisa again raised her hand to stroke her face.
"This is the second time you have failed to address me as
mistress," Elisa said with the glimmer of a smile, "It seems it always
takes a lesson for toys to learn the proper respect. I am doing you a
favor by getting it out of the way quickly, before I become angry."
"Please, mistress, I promise I won't forget again, mistress,"
Christine begged desperately.
Elisa smiled and patted Christine's cheek. Then she went behind
her again and Christine could hear her shuffling things on the table
behind her. Then there was quiet and Christine waited nervously for
something to happen.
Elisa spoke first, saying, "Remember your lessons and you won't
have to learn them again."
Then something slapped down on Christine's rear. It was broad and
devastating. An entire secton of her ass was instantly aflame. She
didn't have time to feel the sting before a second hot swat landed on
her rear.
There was no escape. A jolt forward brought her up short on the
chains on her wrists and left her toes searching for the floor. She
only swung back into the the next blow as she found her footing again.
"Yes, that brings out the color," Elisa chortled as she swung
the paddle at Christine again. "You'll be a nice red by the time I'm
She was red and sobbing from the rain of blows when Elisa put the
paddle down. Her rear ached. The hurt had not gone away simply because
Elisa stopped hitting her.
She was still crying when Elisa lifted her chin with the butt of
the flogger and made Christine look into her eyes.
"Would you like to thank me for your lesson?" Elisa asked.
"Tha.. tha. thank you, m.. m.. mmmistress," Christine sobbed.
"Now we only have a bit more to go and you'll be ready," Elisa
told her.
The flogger came up between Christine's legs and she sobbed
louder. The throb of her backside made the sting of the whip seem like
pinches, but she danced at the strokes all the same.
Elisa only hit her enough to make her point. She moved around
behind Christine and aimed the flogger at the undercurve of her ass
which had escaped the marking of the paddle.
The strokes across her back seemed listless. Christine thought
Elisa was tiring of her sport. She dreaded what might come next. It
started with a compliment.
"Now you are beautiful, all nice and flushed," Elisa told her.
Christine felt Elise's fingers trace lightly down her back and
then her hands lay flat on the hot swells of Christine's ass. Elise
stepped closer ahd ran her hands up the front of Christine's body.
"You are so exciting, you are begging to be fucked," Elisa
rasped in Christine's ear.
The next thing Christine felt was a steadying hand on her hip and
then something foreign trying to enter her pussy.
"What are you doing?" Christine wailed as the thing pressed
against her labia.
The thing wiggled and Christine felt it part the lips and push
forward into her. It was like a cock only bigger- and made of some
rubbery substance. When she made that discovery, Christine knew Elisa
was trying to fuck her with a dildo.
She wasn't ready for anything that size. She had been afraid, not
excited by the whipping. She was as dry as could be inside.
"That hurts so much!- - mistress," Christine shouted.
Elisa pushed a couple of more times and then relented. It was
more from frustration than pity, but she didn't say that to Christine.
"Now no one can say I'm not good with my possessions," she said
as she stepped back, "See how nice I am to you?"
Nice was a matter of perspective in this case. Yes, the dildo
went in much easier coated with the lube, but that was only half the
problem. The other half was that the dildo went so far in and stretched
Christine's cunt so wide.
Elisa didn't have to push so hard to invade Christine's cunt, but
Christine was still not ready for any cock, let alone something bigger.
Christine felt everything stretch as the thing kept burrowing deeper.
"Take it out! Take it out!" Christine begged as the dildo felt
like it was splitting her open.
"Don't you like to show affection for your mistress?" Elisa
snickered as she moved the dildo in and out.
"It's too big! I can't take it!" Chriatine panted, "Please! Take
it out!"
"We are just so full of demands once we've been shown some
kindness, aren't we," Elisa laughed, "Well then, I guess I must show
you mercy."
It was an excuse. Nothing had changed except now Elisa wasn't
going to waste so much time fucking Christine's cunt with the strap-on.
Her aim had always been one hole higher and she took Christine's
protests as an excuse to move on to her favorite part.
Christine felt gratitude as Elisa pulled the dildo out of her
cunt. It was so kind of her. That illusion was shattered when she felt
the head of the fake cock pressing her anus and something cool being poured over both the dildo and her asshole.
Christine had never had a baby, but she imagined it was a similiar
mis-match in size to have a baby's head come out her cunt as having the
dildo force open her sphincter. She sucked in her breath so hard she
coudn't even scream.
Then Elisa gave a thrust like a punch in Christine's kidneys and
an inch or two of the monstrous rubber pole was in her ass. Christine
screamed as the next inch or two went in.
"Now don't tell me this is too big," Elisa mocked her. "If it is,
then it's your fault for not keeping your ass loose for me. That is a
toy's responsibility, you know. You can't let people tie you naked in
their basement and not expect them to fuck you in the ass."
Elisa's snappy repartee was lost in Christine's panic that she
was about to die. Certainly that thing would rupture important organs
and kill her. Christine couldn't take into account all the sensations
her body was sending her as the huge rubber dick forced more of her
body to open as it forced its way into her asshole.
"Cheer up, you'll be loose when I'm done," Elisa scoffed at the
ungodly sounds Christine made as the dildo went up her ass.
Finally Christine felt leather against her burning rear and knew
Elisa had pushed the whole strap-on into her ass. Her bowels were
sending contradictory signals; they were cramped, she had to go, she was constipated. There was turmoil inside her as the huge phallus plugged
a path in her middle.
Then Elisa pulled back two inches and rammed the strap-on back
into Christine's ass. She couldn't stand it. She couldn't understand
it. She could only scream and suffer whatever Elisa decided to do.
Elisa decided to fuck her ass hard. She was indifferent about how
much of the strap-on came out each time, but precise about timing the
thrust back against Christine's stinging rear. She wanted it faster-
and faster as the base of the dildo rubbed back against her own sex
and raised her towards a climax.
"Take it you little slut!" Elisa thundered at Christine as she
approached her orgasm.
Elisa's hands came up and her fingers dug into Christine's breasts as she pumped the strap-on into Christine's asshole. Her fingers slid
down and pinched Christine's nipples cruelly as she rubbed fiercly
against the back of the strap-on as it was buried to the hilt in
Christine's ass.
After Elisa came, Christine felt a strange wiggle behind her and
Elisa stepped away from her, leaving the dildo buried in her rectum.
"You look so natural that way, a dick in your ass," Elisa said
before she slowly inched the dildo out of Christine's asshole.
Christine didn't hear the creak of the door to the basement. Her
only warning was the quiet that came over the playroom.
Christine snuffled and the sound echoed off the hard walls. It
had become very quiet in the basement. She raised her head hesitantly
expecting Elisa to be waiting for her eyes to come up with her whip
Instead Elisa was facing away from the hanging girl. She was
standing still and tall. There was something odd about that pose.
Then she heard a strange voice. It was a man. Now she knew Elisa
was not done with her yet. The bondage and the pain were only one course
in the meal of domination the leather-clad woman was serving. She was
to service a man as well.
But it was more disturbing than that. The man came forward
standing erect and staring at Elisa. He was not a drone the mistress
had summoned to further humiliate her prey. There was no fear in him.
"Give me the whip," he said simply.
Elisa's answer sent a chill of greater evil throught Christine as
she watched her tormentor hand over the tool of pain.
"Here it is, master," Elisa said deferentially as she offered the whip.
"Now face the poor girl and kneel," he said in the same
unemotional tone.
The towering fearsome figure did as she was bid. Christine's heart
beat only grudgingly as she tried to comprehend the scene in front of
her. The woman that had abused her was on her knees in the same attitude
that she had commanded from Christine just hours before.
"May I play with your toy?" the man asked.
"She is mine, master," Elisa spoke as if it was hard to control
her voice.
The whip raised and he brought it down across her back. It's hiss
ended in a crack that brought a following hiss from Elisa.
"What is mine is yours, master," Elisa said in the same controlled
Christine could not judge if it was fear or anger making Elisa's
voice waver. In either case, it was clear that neither would have an
effect on this strange man. Christine watched with some joy as he proved
his mastery of Elisa.
"Lift your breasts," he commanded her.
Elisa scooped her breasts out of the support of the bustier and
held her hands cupped under them. It was clear she did not welcome the
The whip came down once on the pale globes and he smiled at the
catch in her breath as the pain lanced through her tender flesh. She was
not broken, but she was domesticated. Elisa did not suffer his whip
willingly, but she knew she must obey.
"Has she been whipped sufficiently?" he asked Elisa.
Whipped, bruised, and abused, Christine thought. Certainly the
marks making every inch of her body an aching sore were evidence enough.
She had been whipped near unconsiousness before Elisa decided to assault
her. He did not need to whip her.
"I had just begun," Elisa said. "She is hardly past the first
course. See, weals and welts, but no blood lines on her too perfect
"Then I will examine her and see what there is to do," he said.
Christine dropped down a flat-footed as she could and let the
chains pull her weight up by her arms. She wanted her best balance as
this man approached. On his first look at her face his eyes went cold.
"I know Elisa likes to hear your whines, but you will not say
anything or I will gag you to insure it," he said. "Do what you are
told and we'll make the best of this. Of course, you may scream."
Christine stared at the kneeling Elisa for a long time as she
waited for the man to do what he was going to do. The tension slowly
grew to near the panic stage before she could sense him behind her.
His naked crotch rubbed against her rear and it seemed he was
arousing himself by moving his cock between the cheeks of her ass.
This was a different kind of attack than Christine was prepared
for. All her tension shifted into the muscles from her knees to her waist as she waited for him to take her.
He seemed to have no interest in that. When she could feel him
hard and hot between her cheeks, he stepped away again.
She felt like he had hit her with a stick with an embedded knife
blade from the force and sharpness of the blow across her shoulders.
The force was terrible and she thought she could feel her skin split under the second stroke. Of course she would scream. She was screaming
even as she registered the pain from the blows.
Her scream was a siren-like wail when he cut the tender skin
of her buttocks with the birch. He paused after two more strokes on
her quivering rear.
"You were right, my dear, she hasn't learned the first thing
about pain," he said to Elisa.
He was grinning when he stepped around to confront the red-eyed
crying woman. He tipped her head up with the tip of his rod.
"This is only a birch- for punishing naughty schoolboys and
girls," he told her. "Rather the same as a strap, but perhaps a bit
more sting at impact. It is punishment fit for a child. Real pain
doesn't even begin until much later."
It was true. She could still feel the marks, but even as he
spoke the pain was dulling. That did nothing to comfort her when he
was in the thick of another flurry marking her from thighs to
shoulders. She danced in her restraints and was back to the misery
she had experienced with Elisa.
"Were you planning on using the whip on her?" he asked Elisa
"She couldn't stand it," Elisa answered.
Christine was relieved that she was to be spared something. She
couldn't imagine anything being worse, but the whole evening had been
an education in how poor her imagination was.
She was still bound and still wary. The fresh ache of the birch
stripes was beginning to melt into the general mass of pain in her
body. Her body was one mass of twisted sore muscles from hanging and
twitching at their abuse.
She had been spanked, whipped and beaten, raped and abused and
each left their own reminders of pain on and in her body. From the
throb of her abused tits to the soreness of her invaded cunt, she was
a concert of pain with each part plucking its own melodies on her
knotted nerves.
As she balanced on the balls of her feet to take some of the
strain off her shoulders, she irritated her torn anus and was reminded
again that not only pain, but shame was part of her lot in this
dungeon. It still felt like her asshole gaped from Elisa's plundering
her. Her once dainty rosebud would never be dainty again.
Only her face had escaped pain and suffering. The rest of her
body had complaints from the use that Elisa had made of her.
Reality crashed her personal pity party as the stranger walked
in front of her again. He was not looking at her but Christine was
alert to the guarantee that pain would follow. She wasn't sure if she
should be gratified or fearful of what she saw.
"Crawl over by your victim," he told Elisa and then, as she went
on all fours to Christine's side, playfully tapped her with the riding
crop in his hand. "Crawl, crawl, crawl."
Now they were both facing him. Christine hanging in chains
naked and Elisa kneeling, her breasts still hanging out over the cups
of her leather corset. He looked at them as if he was trying to decide
which toy to play with first.
He didn't make a decision. He played with them both.
"Did you take care of her tits?" he asked as he played the
stirrup of leather at the end of the crop over Christine's nipples.
"I flogged them and squeezed them." Elisa told him.
The questions were over. The man wanted action now.
"Come here so I can use your mouth," he told Elisa.
Christine couldn't see Elisa's expression, but she could imagine
how this dominating woman took this servile command. Whatever her
revulsion, Elisa stumbled forward on her knees to kneel in front of
the hanging woman where the man could push his cock into her mouth.
Christine was blocked from seeing his cock sliding into her
tormentor's mouth by Elisa's head, but there was no mistaking the way
he fucked into her face. Then she had her own torment and lost her joy
at Elisa's trouble.
With a precision that made the pain more insidious, the man snapped the crop down in front of Christine. It made only the barest
contact, but what pain exploded in her chest as the very tip of the
crop snapped down on her nipple. With exacting aim he snapped the crop
down on her other nipple.
Much braver than Christine, her nipples raised up to face the
crop- hot, swollen and stinging. If they wished to be heroes in the
face of the blows of the crop, Christine did not, but there was no way
to step away from the blows.
Christine was too lost in the pain of the last and fear of the
next stroke to notice the correlation. She would have had slight
warning in any case. The choking protest of Elisa's throat as he drove
his cock in it came mere parts of a second before the tip of the
crop snapped across one nipple or the other.
For all the pain she suffered, Christine was sure the next
stroke would sever her nipple completely. But her dire prediction was
unfounded. Only the pain went on.
Then it stopped. Over her sobbing Christine heard the sly man turn on Elisa. He was deceptively pleasant, but even Christine didn't
believe that change in manner.
"Oh my, what have I done?" he said with mock concern. "I have
let my discipline slip. She is yours and I have marked her. I must
make it up to you."
There was no joy on Elisa's face as he pulled her to her feet.
Christine saw a look like Elisa was being scourged as he put his hands
on her to buckle and unbuckle parts of her uniform.
There was fear- real fear in her eyes as he freed the black
thong that protected her privates and drew it down her legs. Elisa
obviously knew his intent and it scared her.
"You will know when to strike," he told her as he handed her
the crop.
There was no joy on Elisa's face. It paled with apprehension
for what he was about to do. Christine was doubly afraid for herself.
What would the whipping be like if her tormentor struck her while in
her own torment?
She winced for herself as Elisa's face twisted in pain. Her back
went stiff and her face drew up in a sudden surge as Christine watched.
Elisa had a look of frightened concentration on her face after the
first shock.
"Do you like it when it feels so big in the narrower way?" he
asked Elisa.
Then Christine understood. That explained the mix of pain and
control she saw on Elisa's face. And now the look of discomfort and
distaste as she became accustomed to his cock in her ass.
She calmed too quickly for this to be new, but it was clear that
she detested the act, either with him or in general. But she obeyed.
It made Christine fear him all the more.
Then the dynamics of her captor's other relationships became
too trivial in the mayhem of the assault by Elisa. The crop came up
between her legs with a damage she knew was more severe than her body
was letting her feel. It was not so much pain as a sinking feeling
inside that told her she was badly hurt.
Lights went off behind her eyes rather than a burst of pain in
her sex. She felt ill and then light-headed as the blows were directed
to her most tender flesh. But through the murk of her body's shock
reaction Christine could see how he had made her tormentor a machine
to dispense pain at his command.
Elisa was prompted to bring the whip up between Christine's legs
when he heaved to his deepest in her bowels. Elisa's wince of pain
sped the crop to its target as she passed on her pain.
Through a rising fog of dizzyness, Christine thought it looked
like an old-fashioned mechanical bank. He plunged, she jerked and the
crop fell on its victim. There was something else about it... but
Christine lost consciousness.

"Put the crop down," he ordered now the audience was gone. "Hold
on and give yourself to your better."
Christine had made an insightful observation of Elisa's emotions.
His assertion of dominance was more troubling to her than the hard
staff of cock that was ravaging her rectum. And she would never become
accustomed to the twinges as his cock battered inside her.
Her face was a twisted mask of discontent as she steadied herself
with her hands on her knees while he took her. That a man could order
her was more unsettling than the humiliating penetration. And she hated
the surrender of her anus for every reason.
She would be only slightly less disturbed if he fucked her cunt.
She did not want to be used by a man in any way. The discomfort and
sometimes pain of being ass-fucked was only a little more distasteful
than turning up her rear for any penetration.
She imagined the ache as he drove hard inside her made her
stronger. Bearing the intrusion in the narrowest place was a fire to
temper her will. Taking it in the ass gave her more reason to be strong.
Then he fucked her hard and fast and she had trouble retaining
her vision. His cock overwhelmed her. A squeak escaped her as he
pounded on her rear. Then she felt the flood inside her and her spirit
spiraled down into a heart-chilling shame. Every muscle in her face
strained to hold back tears. She would not cry like a girl.
"Now perhaps you should rouse her," he said to the scowling woman,
"I want one of you in my bed tonight. Your back door has given me a
taste for more of the same. If you wish to keep her for yourself, you
will come to me for an encore."
Her face burned with some mix of hate and shame. She wanted to
attack him, but she knew it was no use. She suffered being his creature.
She would take out her humiliation on her victim.
She pulled her thong back to protect her violated hole,
concentrating on the precise adjustment so the sickening sensation of
his jizm leaking from her anus did not make her vomit.
He turned on his heel and left her to her shame. She watched him
up the stairs, hating his control. She knew he would have one of them.
She was not strong enough to sacrifice her body to keep this one for

The cold brine was a shock of temperature and pain. Christine
spluttered alive with a jerk that wrenched her bound limbs. Awake, she
skittered with her feet to find some stand to take the strain off her
poor shoulders.
She could tell by the ache that she had been hanging from the
chains for some time. The stinging of the salt water told her that she
had been abused less than her pride had imagined. Yes, the cuts burned
like fire, but they were annoying rather than catastrophic. The lines
left by the birch felt like a mass of paper cuts across the back of her
Even her poor abused sex felt bruised rather than damaged. The
blows there seemed to have damaged her illusion of security more than
they damged her flesh.
She still hurt all over. But she was not going to die from her
wounds. There was much more mistreatment ahead for her at Elisa's hands.
There was a strange look on Elisa's face as she came to unbuckle
Christine's cuffs. It was uneasy for certain, but was it regret or
It didn't matter. She went behind Christine to free her other
hand and then pulled them firmly behind Christine's back. Christine
felt rope looping around her forearms as Elisa lashed her arms together
wrist to elbow.
The bonds pulled her shoulders back and made Chrstine present her
chest in a way that made her uneasy. Elisa soon gave her reason to
fear for her vulnerable breasts.
"You are to be a present and I am going to make you pretty," Elisa
She started by smearing lipstick on her nipples and spreading it
with her fingers as she pinched them into erection. Christine wondered
what humiliation was in store for her.
She dressed Christine in an obscene costume of rope. The rope was
double looped around her breast so it would remain tight around the
base while Elisa tied a slip knot. She held the strain on the knot as
she looped and captured Christine's other breast in the same way.
A new rope came over Christine's back and Elisa looped it low on
her belly. She drew the ropes down the crack of Christine's ass and
pulled them through her legs. Christine felt her cheeks pulled apart
as Elisa brought the ends back up to tie behind Christine's back.
Christine began to tremble in fear as she imagined the dire
possibilities. She was more than helpless. She was trussed like the
present Elisa said she'd make of her. She could only fear who would be
receiving this preaent.
She walked spraddle-legged from the way the ropes held open her
rear as Elisa pushed her toward the stairs. Her panic grew as she saw
that she was going to leaving the privacy of the dungeon-like basement.
The panic brought a flood of possibilities to mind. Others of Elisa's kind could be waiting beyond that door to mock and abuse her.
Would she be confronted by some jealous enemy who had arranged this
humiliation as revenge? Or would Elisa complete the circle and take her
back to the bar where she had found her and abandon her naked and
A nightmare of laying bound on her own front stoop was playing in
her head as Elisa drew her through the hall. The house was quiet, so her
destination must be outside.
Elisa ruined that conclusion when she was turned again and sent
up a second set of stairs to the upper floor. The ropes were beginning
to chafe with all this climbing. Her breasts were beginning to feel
like cold, dead weights in the contriction of the ropes.
Elisa opened the door to a room and pushed Christine inside.
"Go lie on the bed and wait," she ordered.

That brought its own dilemma. Christine couldn't lie on her back.
That made her arms hurt. She couldn't lie on her stommach. That was
too much pressure on her bound breasts. She had to compromise by laying
on her side and suffering a bit of both pains.
She had come to realize that, while the pain in her arms and
breasts was greater, it was the irritation of the ropes prying her
bottom open that bothered her most. Then she heard movement in the
room behind her. The voice she heard was a confirmation of a destiny
of doom.
"I see Elisa has decided to let me play with her toy," he said.
Christine tried to turn and face the voice, but all she could do
was pull up her knees and struggle up to a position that pushed her
rear in the air and forced her face into the bedding.
"Please," she whined, "Don't hurt me any more."
His belt sounded like a swooping bird before her offered rear felt
the bright burst of it laying another welt on her abused bottom.
"I told you I require silence," he said icily, "I will hurt you
if I wish and you will take it without any more of your whining, sorry
pleas. Your pain does not concern me, but if you do concern me with
your mealy-mouthed caterwauling, I will certainly see that you suffer
in ways you cannot yet dream of."
That she could believe. She had already been subjected to abuse
that was still hard to comprehend. She trusted he knew worse ways to
make her hurt and feel shame.
The first assault was a familiar one for Christine. He gathered
her hair in his hand like a handle and lifted her face out of the
covers. He lifted her so her head was level with his crotch and the
cock that hung between his legs.
"If you make any mistake, be sure I will leave you bloody and
wishing you could die," he warned as he lifted his cock to her lips.
Her nose was clogged from crying and her mouth was stuffed with
his cock. Her fear was great enough for her to ignore her lack of air
and suck on his cock the best she could. She stabbed at his cock with
her tongue as she opened to gasp some air into her lungs.
It was actually a relief when his cock was hard enough to stab at
her throat. Gagging gave her the excuse to pull more air into her lungs
as he jarred her tonsils.
He finally let her face drop back to the bed and moved away. She
became very aware of her vulnerable rear sticking in the air. She had
good reason for concern.
"I see my dear wife has tried to make amends," he commented from
behind Christine. "Perhaps I should let her have you back when I am done
with you."
If he was trying to impress Christine with his conjugal concern,
he failed. Her concern for his intention filled her head. In her heart
she knew what was coming next and he didn't disappoint her.
He made it very clear as his finger rimmed the red, angry swelling
of her sphincter. Another wave of cold passed through Christine as he
confirmed her fears.
Then the cold was on her anus, a sham of comfort as the jelly
soothed her momentarily.
"Your mistress was so satisfying that I decided I must have more
of the narrower way," he said conversationally. "I only wish to enjoy
your bottom and will take great pains to make it as easy as I can."
Great pain was the only thought that applied. True, she was
slathered in lube but the ease of his entrance into her ass did nothing
to help the greater pain of her sore sphincter stretching to admit
his cock.
True, his cock was not the gargantuan dildo that Elisa had forced
in her rectum, but it was enough to revive the ache in her anus. And
Christine found it was very different when the intruder had feeling and
a desire to explore.
It was less brutal than Elisa's ramming the unfeeling rubber dick
up her ass. It was also more personal as his cock made her forfeit more
of her dignity to his anal explorations. She was his from one end of her
food tube to the other. He was probing her last secret and uncovering
her last shred of privicy.
Then she felt the heat reflected back from her glowing cheeks as
his thighs pressed tight to her rear. He possessed her now. She had
nothing left of her own. He had taken the right to all of her as he
settled to his limit in her asshole.
And the party hadn't even begun.
"You are not as tight as could be," he assessed, "I suppose that
infernal rubber thing of Elisa's has ruined that forever. But we will
make do. We will make do."
Ruined forever was another of Christine's fears spoken aloud.
Mercifully, if that word can be used, he drove that thought from her
head as he pulled away until only the head of his cock held her anus
open and then plunged back inside her.
Her breath came in gasps now. There was no trouble in getting air
as he made long, hard thrusts into her helpless ass. Her pain faded into
the background as he filled her perception with the anticipation of
his next filling thrust and the reality of that thrust when it came.
It was about having an ass full of cock. It was about the cock
filling her ass. It was about being helpless and taking it.
Then it was the acceleration of those thoughts until she lost
track as he fucked faster and with less relief. He was not leaving her
now. His cock still filled her when out stroke turned back to in stroke.
It was making something build in Christine. It was building an
emotion very like panic. She felt this was only the precursor of some
obliterating force he would use on her.
In fact, he only slapped hard on her wounded rear and rucked her
up the bed as he drove at her with his cock fully imbedded in her ass.
Her only thought was, no, as he pounded on her in full possession. She
was unable to have perspective as he hurried to a finish in her rectum.
His swelling cock and the gush in her bowels even seemed to be a
portent rather than an ending. Christine no longer believed that her
torment would ever end.
"Now that was a nice, nasty fuck," he complimented them both with
his cock still deep in her asshole.
When he pulled back and jerked his cock free of her clinging
asshole, an old friend greeted her. Forgotten in the swirl of the
moment, Christine was acutely aware of the ropes holding her buttocks
open as she tried to close her gaping sphincter. She could feel that the
ropes had bitten into the tender flesh during her ass-fucking.
His first attention was to her bound breasts. Uncaring of her
pain, he lifted her shoulders and turned her on her back to have a
better look at the dark cold things that hung from her chest.
"My Elisa does have a flair," he murmured as he examined the mottled dark red flesh of her breasts.
They had turned dark red from the constriction and their shade all
but hid the bright scarlet lipstick on Christine's nipples. It felt like
he was touching cotton when he ran his hands over her senseless breasts.
"So cold," he commented, "Perhaps we better let some blood back in
there before they turn black and fall off."
Christine didn't think her torment could end so easily. There was
no magical cure- even at the expense of her breasts- that would stop
the all-over pain she was suffering.
The first knot relaxed the ropes. They still clung in the grooves
they had squeezed in her breasts, but some tension was relieved. Her
tits no longer felt so taut like ready to burst balloons.
He had more play in mind. Before he unwrapped the rest of the
rope, he opened the bedside table and brought out the clips. He caught
each areola just behind the swelling of the nipple and then undid the
last knots.
It was a sweet pain of release as he tugged the ropes away from
their grip on her breastflesh. The tortured things settled cold against
her chest. Even as she felt the deadness of them, the first rush of
needles ran through them with the rush of returning blood.
She wailed as the sensation grew maddening.
"Oh such torment," he clucked, "Let me help you."
His grip was like fighting a brush fire with a magnesium flare.
The immense pain she felt as his fingers dug into her flesh put to shame
the subtle burn of returning circulation. She twisted this way and that
until she became aware of a constant pinch that was separate from the
agony of his hands.
Her breasts were alive and her nipples were clamped. It was a
symbol of her experience in Christine's mind. One pain became another.
And if, by chance, this pain was less, she could be sure that a greater
one waited.
Now she shifted uneasily on her aching arms. There was always one
pain more that she ignored as she experiences the fresh hurt. He was
uncharacteristically compassionate. Christine expected a trick.
"Oh I forgot about those arms," he said as he lifted her to a
sitting position and supported her. "We want you to feel your tingly
tits right now."
Professed intentions not withstanding, it was the most concern-
that being any at all- that he had shown for her comfort. It made
Christine willing to chance a plea. Moving her up had placed a greater
strain on her buttocks. The rope was pulling at her torn anus as it
forced her cheeks apart to the splitting point.
"Could you untie the other rope? The rope on my bottom," she asked
"I could, but I'm not going to," he said. "Your mistress thought
to add this trimming and I intend to return you to her with it in
She looked up at him over her shoulder.
"Oh yes, I wanted to travel a back road and I have done that," he
said, "I would normally chain you to the foot of the bed now, but I
see no reason to waste you in my room when you are Elisa's toy."

Every step bothered her sensitive tits and made her feel the pinch
of the clips on her nipples. Walking in the rope girdle had become
almost a relief as the pain was much less while she was on her feet.
He opened the door they had stopped in front of and pushed
Christine inside. Christine was shocked at the pinkness and feminity of
the decor from a ruffled counterpane on the bed to delicate little lamps
on the fully stocked dressing table. It was not what she imagined
Elisa would choose.
Elisa must have been in the bathroom because Christine stood alone
for a moment when the door whas shut behind her. Then Elisa emerged and
looked Christine up and down.
"Not good enough to keep are you?" she accused Christine. "He
supposes I want you back now that he's fouled you himself."
Elisa shrugged her shoulders and put on a look of indignation.
"I guess you are good enough to beat," she sighed, "Come over here
you worthless cow. Let's see what fun we can have."
That was certainly an encouraging speech. Christine only shuffled
forward because she knew there was no escaping her fate. She didn't try
to guess what Elisa had in store. Her mind wasn't that twisted.
"Now will you be a good girl if I loose your arms?" Elisa asked.
Christine nodded and Elisa lay her on the bed to work on the
knots. Christine bore the twinges in her nipples with a grimace as she
lay on her stomach. She knew protests would get her nothing better.
Her arms were dead when the ropes came free. Only by jerking up
her shoulder could Christine make them flop at all. Elisa straightened
them out and turned Christine over. Christine thought she was trying to
help her when she lifted her arms over her head.
"You are going to be such a good girl," Elisa cooed as she fit
Christine's wrists into cuffs. "I know you'll be good when you can't
help yourself."
Then Elisa flipped her into a most uncomfortable pose on her
crossed dead arms and began to pull at the knots holding the rope
around her waist. It felt foreign for her buttocks to touch when Elisa
finally pulled the rope out of the crack of her ass.
Agony ran down her arms like screams down a deserted hallway as
the circulation returned. Being helpless to move only made it worse.
Again Christine's only choice was to endure.
"Such a shame," Elisa said with mock sympathy as she ran her
fingers over Christine's nipples and the clips crushing them, "I know
he meant well."
She removed the clips and tenderly touched Chirstine's nipples.
In truth her touch was soothing, but it was the curse of her treatment
so far that Christine couldn't enjoy the good part without fearing the
pain that would come as a result.
"You're so tense," Elisa noted, "I'm not going to hurt you unless
you make me. Be a good girl and I won't beat you. I promise."
Christine was not inclined to believe her. Everything else had
been a set up. She wasn't even in control of her of being good.
Everything pointed to her promise being hollow.
Elisa opened the thin dressing gown that was draped over her
naked body and climbed over Christine. She straddled her neck and looked
down at Christine's face between her legs.
"You see, I did have a concern for your well-being when I took off
your clips," Elisa told her. "I didn't want you distracted when I sat
on your breasts."
She didn't come close enough that it would have been a problem.
She lowered her cunt straight down on Christine's mouth and her
buttocks barely grazed Chrstine's collarbones and she settled down.
Christine stuck out her tongue to lap at Elisa's sex.
She was not an eager cunt-lapper. Christine was surprised at
her instinctive response. She was surprised but not disgusted. It was
amazing how this concession was made so easy by the recent agonies.
Conventions and pride were mere shadows in the face of raw pain. She
would do this and much more to prevent another whipping.
She licked Elisa like a well-trained dog, obedient and well-
meaning, but unaware of what she was doing. Elisa enjoyed her fear and
endured the licking before despairing that Christine would ever get it
"Just stick your tongue out as far as you can," Elisa ordered and
then assured panic by adding, "We will see if that is good enough or if
you are only worth punishing."
Elisa mounted her tongue and used her own whims to direct her
pleasure. Christine's nose made a fine hump to rub her clit on as she
moved on the helpless woman's tongue. And her captive was making every
effort to prevent punishment by keeping her tongue forced as far as she
could thrust it in Elisa's sex.
The poor, helpless, willing thing did excite Elisa. Her cuffed
hands excited Elisa more than Christine's tongue. Her slavish obedience
was better than even her tongue. Having Christine so fully in her power
added sparks to the bang of Elisa's clit against her drone's nose.
"Oh my! I'm afraid I won't get to beat you," Elisa gasped as the
potent mixture made her climax on Christine's face.
Elisa looked sad as she climbed off Christine's face. She looked
up and down Christine's body and shrugged.
"The first thing you should learn is that a promise counts," she
sighed, "Whether it's a promise of leinency or a promise to whip you."
It was obvious Elisa preferred the latter. Christine didn't take
Elisa's words as true. It came as no shock to her that even Elisa's
mercy was painful.
"You have no right to close up your cunt. It's mine and I will
have to make sure it's accessible," Elisa explained as she pulled
Christine's legs apart and tied them to the corners of the bed.
It was not immediately uncomfortable, but Christine knew she would
tire of laying in one position as the night wore on. Then Elisa turned
to leave the room. She turned and looked back at Christine.
"Amuse yourself in my husband's idea of a hideous joke," she said,
"I have my own more personalized quarters in one of my closets."
Christine saw little detail in the room Elisa entered except it
was huge. Then she was left alone strapped in place on the bed.

She rolled over and woke with a start. How was that possible when
she was tied to a bed? She sat up, the memory of her bondage still
sharp in her mind.
Her breasts settled inside her blouse with sharp reminders of the
pain her nipples had known. But was that from a whipping?
Her body ached and her ass and cunt were both sore. But she (what
a comment) recognized the alley behind the bar. She was in a jumble of
trash bags by the back door.
A different thought began to form in her mind. Perhaps an ardent
lover? two? more? Had she screwed every man in the bar? Was her pain
from an over eager twisting of her nipples?
Was she obnoxious and ejected from the bar? Was she taken
advantage of by unknown others while she was passed out? It seemed so
much more likely than the abduction she dreamed.
She got to her feet unsteadily and straightened her clothes. No underwear either. She looked around and didn't see them. She did find her purse and her keys. She started the long walk home.

"A bit tender for your taste, wouldn't you say, dear?" the man asked.
"She did suffer so quickly," Elisa agreed, "I would have enjoyed
her rebelling at least until I used the birch."
Then her eyes went wide and she grinned at her husband.
"But then I don't think she would have screamed so well when I
buggered her," Elisa said.
"Yes, that was quite a treat even after you ruined her with your
dildo," he said. "But I think she liked it better than you."
"Any one enjoys it more than I do," Elisa reminded him. "Otherwise
you'd tire of buggering me."

This story has no end. It is believed that the ending of this
story ran off with the ending of another story, by an author that shall remain nameless, and is presently ramming its stiff paragraph deep in that other ending's wet vowels.


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