Her voice was barely above the level of a whisper.
“Thank you sir.”
Erin Coulter’s gratitude was genuine when she uttered those words. No civilian could contemplate the level of pain associated with my leggy victim being subjected to more strappado within this humble cellar. No female not as yet a victim of rape and slavery would judge the twenty-two year old at my mercy for displaying submission to both her Owner as well as her fate.
“Good girl. Walk.”
Erin obeyed. Naked but for a pair of panties that set off her rape worthy hips (and with her arms bound up uncomfortably behind her back at the wrists) the auburn haired dainty bowed her head and allowed me to move her the roughly ten or twelve steps from my torture chamber to the mattress where I could rape her.
Helluva’ hole in the ground.
“Silence. You’ll learn swiftly Erin that men aren’t interested in anything you have to say. All that matters for a whore like you girl is what you’re NOT wearing…”
My sex slave began weeping as I took upon the preliminary steps in getting her exquisite body arranged for sex. Atop the mattress. Within these walls. Below the street. A million miles and a thousand screams from sanity.
“Yes Master. Th-thank you sir…”
The slut was beginning to accustom herself to the wrist bindings digging into the small of her back during a prolonged rape session. More than once I’d complimented Erin on her flawless legs. And had proven my devotion to my pawn in that regard by drawing up Erin’s pins flat against my chest (soles of her feet pointing directly up at the ceiling) for the purposes of fucking her cunt hard. Somewhere within that process Erin’s panties had ended up off her legs and tossed into a corner of the chamber. I made a mental note of their location just in case I might need to gag Erin a bit later during even more amusing aspects of her captivity.
“Comfy?”
It was a religion…this taunting and shaming of the whore in my possession. What accentuated my control and dominance over Erin was knowing that I was never going to let her go.
“It…it hurts a little sir…like the last time. But…b-but your satisfaction is vital to me. Please, please continue Master. My…m-my vagina belongs to you sir.”
She wasn’t completely without lubrication. With my hands caressing the length of her bare legs and the opportunity to reach down and lick Erin’s nipples between strokes I could mercifully allow the whore to initially ‘survive’ the repeated rapes I had planned for her. As well as secondarily allowing my fuck toy to perhaps eventually finding ‘pleasure’ in the use, abuse and misuse of her worthless (yet appealing) body.
“Good girl. Now shut your filthy mouth.”
Which was exactly the phraseology that Erin had learned to anticipate that the pace, severity and depth of my cock thrusts would increase exponentially.
“Uugghh. Ugh, ugh, ugh…aarrgghhhhhh. Maagghh! MAAGGHHHHHH!!”
The square footage of my prison wasn’t going to win me any awards within our community of sadists that liked to prey upon livestock like Erin Coulter. But I could easily make up for my lack of facilities with the faculties I could employ to sexually ruin a slut and render her inoperable.
“After lunch you get it up the ass again girl. I’m feeling as though I may want to hurt you a little more than usual Erin. Nothing too, too incapacitating. Is…is that something you’d be grateful for girl? Hmmm?”
Even upon her back and with my erection splitting her asunder I couldn’t help but appreciate the beauty of Erin’s breasts as they spasmed with each and every penetration. My mentor had long ago sold me on the value of a woman at such times when either her body was recoiling from being raped and/or writhing in agony during formal torture. Erin was a very pretty girl.
“I’m glad I chose you slut.”
As my climax neared - there was nothing for it, the girl had talent - Erin began truly sobbing. Which I adored. Especially during ‘love making’. Think about it…from her POV. The bitch had avoided a dose of strappado by only thee narrowest of margins. Was being raped. Had been informed that anal sex (hard, painful, degrading) was on the menu for this afternoon. And (most importantly) knew that there were NO guarantees that I might not casually decide to systematically torture her naked body through the night ahead until morning!
“Aa - aagghh! I’m…I’m…(Uu - gghh!)…I’m glad my body pleases you Master. Naagghh!”
As I began to contemplate spraying my victim’s insides with my cum - painting Erin, in a sense tattooing her intimate bits with proof of my ownership - I thought back to a conversation with a few of the lads. Just the other day. Regarding the prices merchandise like Erin Coulter was fetching in Dubai this summer. This cunt (and her vagina/anus/mouth that I alone had the rights to swap as commodities) was high class, first class, goods. But selling Erin meant notching back the level of torture I had planned for her nipples and feet in the weeks ahead. And the extent to which I could damage her clitoris making it very unlikely that the girl would ever experience an orgasm again.
“Eyes open. I’m close whore. Keep your mouth shut…or we play ‘strappado’ before lunch. Th-that’s better…yes, much better…good girl…JEEZUS you’ve got great legs Erin! I’ve, shit…I’ve decided not to castrate you bitch. You’re a very fortunate young woman Ms. Coulter. Yes…better to keep you in one piece. Good girl. I SAID EYES OPEN WHORE!!”
Lunch that day was very busy in my neck of the woods. Astride my own little hole in the ground. For her minor breach of discipline atop the rape bed (coincident with my orgasm) Erin spent her siesta in crippling agony. Once I’d subjected her shoulders, arms and back to an especially gnawing series of rope torments. Pretty girl.
In addition I left a message for Mr. Myers informing him that - if the price was right - Erin should be added to the very next roster of candidates to be forwarded to the Persian Gulf.
Then I took a luxuriant shower as Erin shrieked in pain down in the basement. I wanted to be fresh and clean when I pummeled her anus that afternoon. Hell, the bitch’ll probably thank me for fucking her ass good and hard…if only it meant to be freed from the strappado.
Much later that very evening - as Erin knelt at my feet sobbing in misery - I casually informed my doomed slave (and future harem rape fixture) that she was a very lucky girl indeed. I was going to let her keep her nipples after all. But only IF her blow jobs improved.
“Yes…y-yes Master. Thank you sir! I’m…I mean…th-this whore, sorry!…th-this worthless whore is very glad her body pleases you Master. My eyes are wide open sir. And…”
I waited for the lid to snap tight with a clang.
“…Master this whore’s eyes are wide open…and so is her f-filthy mouth.”
It’s hard to express how wonderful the back of Erin’s throat felt for the next several hours. After she’d surrendered to the inevitable. Not gonna’ lie…I spent most of the time as Erin was massaging my cock with her tongue and caressing my scrotum with her eyelashes calculating the windfall her body was about to bring my way. Courtesy of whatever sheik desired Erin’s body the most in the months and years ahead.
“All the way in. Eyes open…back straight. And remember…swallow ALL my cum this time.”
I was convinced it’d be enough cash to locate, stalk, prep for and acquire at least two sluts to take Erin’s place. Down here. In the cellar.
A man’s home is his castle.
