Very early on the Controller was certain he would never break Female17(b)A. Which is why by Day Three he had come to restrain the luscious brunette in noisy chains…rather than hemp, duct tape and police ties. If he couldn’t force the waif to beg for mercy or to remain in stilettos or even at least sob uncontrollably the Controller would settle for ‘hearing’ his doomed visitor struggle against the humiliating restraints her naked body was secured with.
There was a trade off. As the sadist fucked the protesting female savagely atop the overly large stainless steel table his knees and elbows encountered resistance from the unforgiving surface of the ‘rape bed’. Yet the Controller’s minor suffering was considerably offset by the hellish racket his victim’s chains caused against the very same chrome platform.
Due to his selection’s lack of a lack of spine the Controller sensed it was futile to elicit pleas for mercy from Female17(b)A. To call her obstinate would fall far short of describing how successfully the pretty girl had resisted her kidnapper’s efforts to deface her identity and self esteem. So for this rape - and the several rapes he had planned for this particular body moving forward - the Controller utilized a variety of physically punishing gags to silence the whore he’d decided needed to suffer.
In his basement.
“Believe me it’s no luxury cruise for me either…fucking you atop this cold table. But those chains…they DO have a resonance for me as you buck and squirm in shame. I’m glad it hurts.”
It was rare for the proprietor of 2112 Division Street to run across (and ultimately obtain) a female as defiant as 17(b)A. C’est lavie. The music of her confining chains - the rattle and hum of her contorted agonies - partially made up for the brunette’s selfishness in not kneeling at the Controller’s feet. Her new owner had decided to continue to bind up this enticing body exclusively in chains for what he had prepared next during her brief stay.
Within the cellar.
“I’ll give you this much whore. Even if you had wept and knelt and crawled it would have made zero difference upon your ultimate fate. That’s the rule down here. All females suffer. But my word those chains are making a tempest just now, yes? Must really hurt, huh?”
The rape had progressed beyond savage. It was sex designed to ruin. With each scrape and scream of the victim’s chains as they shrieked across the table top or slapped against the metal support legs the brunette grimaced, convulsed and grunted in sublime agony. The Controller - ‘her’ controller - was displaying to this obdurate bitch what her vagina had been created for. And how casually it could almost literally be shredded.
Away in the dungeon.
“Take heart, young lady. This is the easy part. I haven’t even started in on your anus yet.”
In reply the chains went silent. And for a few surreal seconds inside TheP.o.R.T. both rapist and victim sensed merely the perspiration of two naked bodies wrapped in perversion. Finally the Controller glanced down at the object he had chosen for punishment and noted with glee that she was crying. Female17(b)A remained unbroken…but at least (for the Controller) a few of her outer defenses had been breached.
He now knew for certain that the whore was deathly afraid of anal sex.
“Yes. I’ve got chains for this and chains for that. Manacles. Shackles. You name it. I’m not going to spare anything regarding what I have slated for THIS body. Time to accept cum girl. It truly is uncomfortable as heck on this damned table, isn’t it! Must be absolute murder on your hips and back. Ha! Rattle those chains pretty girl. Your ass is MINE!”
His ejaculation seemed hotter, stickier and having had increased in quantity to the helpless female as the Controller’s cum washed up inside of her. Atop the stainless steel table. Wrapped in chains as she was. Female17(b)A grimaced in disgust as her rapist once again marked her womb as his own property. With his semen. ‘This is torture’ thought Rebecca Caulkins.
No. It wasn’t. That would come later.