Her crime was merely spending an afternoon at the beach. Alone. Her sin was how she placed her bare legs so very far out in front of her along the sand. Alluring. Her mistake was doing all of this under the sadistic gaze of a Controller. Not allowed.
*************
They feel good the first few times. They’re resistant. They believe that help will come. They lie to themselves that even a rapist can be reasoned with.
The Controller used Susan in a variety of ways. Since absconding away from the beach with her nineteen year old body in tow the Controller had experimented with a dozen techniques in abusing her. Right now the blonde with the moist green eyes was arranged upon her left side NOT along the sand but across her kidnapper’s bed. Susan’s hands had been bound up together and her arms pinned to the headboard. She’d been naked for four days. She’d lost count of how many times the Controller had raped her.
“Relax your hips. It’ll hurt a bit less…”
With her bikini top taped firmly inside her mouth the blonde was unable to say ‘Yes sir’ as she’d been ordered to do at all times. Susan discreetly nodded her submission to the tall, powerful man utilizing her helpless form for his own gain. On her side like this and with her arms useless in their painful bindings Susan’s tanned body was displayed in a manner that drove the Controller to ecstasies of anger, passion and sick pleasure.
“I said relax…that’s NOT the same as giving you permission to get lazy whore. Grind bitch!”
Her lower back aching and her shoulders screaming for relief the pretty girl doubled the efforts of her hips to appease the entity that would hurt her devilishly whenever he was ‘unsatisfied’ with a fuck. Or a blow job.
“More action with your legs slut. I want longer strokes…”
Susan was facing her tormentor along the bed. The Controller was obscenely close, on his own right side with his cock a considerable number of inches up inside the squirming victim he’d chosen at Bonham Park. With one of his hands the sadist was propping up Susan’s upper leg as she lay so that continued comfortable access to her battered vagina might be maintained.
After a hundred hours of captivity THIS was his favorite way to abuse his victim’s body.
“If I cum there’ll be less of a beating afterwards, my lovely. I SAID EYES OPEN!”
Pinioned as she was Susan sprang back to her task and contorted her body in a way she desperately hoped would please the man who’d chosen her for slavery. She’d been told that the Controller had been pleased with how she ‘felt’ these ‘first few times’. And as the lithe blonde swiveled her hips submissively against the Controller’s erection Susan prayed that whatever might come after this Introductory Period would be a tad less unbearable for her pussy, her nipples and her throat.
“Better. That’s better. For a whore you learn quick. How’s that bikini taste?”
It was true. There were still a few grains of sand in Susan’s top when the Controller had forced her to put it between her lips. So that he could gag Susan’s mouth and obliterate her face in a manner ‘suited to her new situation in life’. It tasted of sun tan lotion, sweat and sexuality. Susan whimpered as she efforted her weakening hips as the rape droned on…
…the bikini top stuffed inside her mouth just a reminder of how brutal a Controller could be with the breasts of a captured girl.
“I have some playtime scheduled for after this Sue…provided that is I cum sufficiently. Which seems unlikely given your half-assed approach to MY contentment today. I SAID SWIVEL YOUR GODDAM HIPS WHORE!!”
Frantic - and in agony - Susan remembered what she’d realized roundabout her second day of thralldom. That ‘rape’ at the hands of a competent Controller meant torture much more than just sex. The exquisite blonde ignored the blazing pain found in all her joints and plowed her cramped midsection against, against, against the lance of her Controller’s cock in a pathetic, humiliating effort to make him cum.
“I may have to punish you…you never should have displayed yourself on that beach kiddo.”
Susan Welch was sobbing hysterically. Her Master was displeased……
*************
The instruments of ‘play’ and of torture were identical. And they were straightforward. They involved Susan’s naked body seated uncomfortably upon an ordinary, natural grain bar stool. With her knees and ankles roped intolerably tight to the rungs of same. The blonde’s arms and hands were free…for now. Yet to Susan it felt she were still upon the rape bed with her upper limbs chained to the headboard. Still being raped.
Nothing further was needed for the Controller’s pastime other than a pair of full length mirrors placed both directly in front of his victim (about six feet away) and just to the side of the stool. The twin mirrors…and enough smooth, milky white, unwaxed clothesline to practically mummify Susan’s nude body should the sadist see fit to punish her in that way.
“You have to learn obedience and you have to submit to pain. This is your fault…”
The bikini top was finally (mercifully) absent from Susan’s pretty yet tearstained face. All that long unkempt flaxen hair excited the Controller with its quantum randomness. And the bitch was trembling. With the bikini top gone (and the bottoms MIA) Susan was able to restrain her sobbing just enough to whisper…
…“Yes. Yes sir.”
“Again slut. AGAIN! Only this time you respond with fealty. AGAIN!”
Susan’s startled twitch of fear multiplied the agony of the rope bindings about her gorgeous legs. Those legs meant for sand, for high heels, for being splayed wide apart. Half mad with terror the nineteen year old forsook her previous identity and submitted to her fate.
“Sorry! Sorry sir! I meant…I mean th-this worthless whore m-meant to say ‘Yes Master’. Yes my Master…this slut understands th-that pain is necessary. Yes my Master……”
And then…they played.
This all began a dozen or so years ago when the Controller had in residency a coed by the name of Carol Macon. Brunette, pale, nice tits, good in bed. It was then - with that bitch - that he’d truly begun to understand the worth of simply using rope (and severe restraint) as a form of torture. As a means of punishment and intimidation. Carol had been about the same age then as Susan was now…and the Controller wondered if his latest victim was going to be as supple and pliable as Carol had been. Shrieking in agony lo those many years before.
“Arms behind your back. The sooner we start the sooner I get to enjoy myself. Be a good girl and take your medicine Blue Sue. C’mon…this is going to happen.”
Susan’s sobs approached plaintive levels. Foolishly she begged for mercy:
“Please s-sir…Master, please. I’ll…I’ll be good. This…th-this whore will pleasure you. Please carry my body b-back over to the bed. Please. PLEASE!!”
The Controller made a note of Susan’s impertinence. For future redress. And simply reached forward from behind his victim to almost gently wedge first her left - then her right - arm to a position most painfully situated behind her back. From here the sadist had excellent views of Susan’s grimace of agony in the facing mirror as the rope torture commenced. As well as the sexy vibrato of the reflection of Susan’s naked legs in the side mirror as his demented game plan went directly to fruition.
“Quiet. Or you get a different kind of gag placed inside your filthy mouth. Whores don’t beg Susan Chosen…they comply. They suffer. They entertain. THEY SQUEAL! Obey me!”
Pinned as she was to the stool (her legs DID look amazing!) Susan ‘accepted’ having her arms pulled back. And screamed in pain as those first of many coils and knots of clothesline was applied to her wrists. Tight. Then spun up in the direction of her elbows. Tighter. And then later in that agonizing space above her elbows but below her wrenched shoulders. TIGHT! Until inexorably the poor girl’s two arms met thumb-to-elbow behind her back in a swath of smooth, vanilla, milk-white rope. It was a torture of time, patient application and sublime femininity.
“PLEASE! Untie me! PLEASE! EE - aarrgghh! OH! OH! EE - aarrrgggghhhhhhhh!!”
For several hours the Controller attached, loosened, reapplied and cinched coils of biting rope about the arms of his seated victim. The mirrors paid witness to Susan’s agony as her session seemingly played itself out with absolutely no hope of respite. The torturer himself reveled in the style and appearance and potency of the knots he constantly foisted upon the screaming female at his mercy. To the Controller’s mind this ‘hobby revisited’ grew equal in value and amusement levels to actually raping Susan.
“NAAGGHH!! EE - AAAARRRRGGGGHHHHHHHH!!”
*************
It was among the best ass and the finest anus he’d ever ruined.
Susan Welch was back on the mattress. Where she belonged. Only this time the doomed girl was upon her belly. And her face. Her wrecked arms had been reassigned to the gripes found in the headboard. And Susan had been wise enough (had been trained sufficiently) to keep her aching hips a precise distance off the mattress to accommodate the Controller’s cock within her anus.
“Good girl.”
The Controller meant it. Blue Sue had been stellar all this day. The vaginal side-by-side rapes. The rope torture. Now the anal sex. And later?
“Good girl. I know it hurts. But this is the only way whore. I know what’s best for you.”
Susan wept and bit the soiled mattress with her teeth. Pleading for leniency was not an option within the Controller’s walls. And the agony was becoming unbearable. The vaginal side-by-side rapes. The rope torture. Now this dehumanizing, belittling anal sex.
And later?
As he took his time in fucking his slave’s (worthless) body the Controller admired his handiwork. His cock shimmied upward and sideward towards Susan’s rectum and her muted shrieks of pain delighted him. But the almost Native American-like mosaic pattern his ropes had left on Susan’s now outstretched but still bound arms filled the sadist with an urgency to rape his blonde especially hard. The temporary scars left by his ropework would remain on Susan’s wrists and arms and elbows for at least three or four days. A pleasant reminder to the Controller of how much sway he held over the helpless girl’s well being.
“Good girl. I’m glad it hurts. Just two more things left to do today. Whaddya’ say, Abusin’ Susan! Ha! Two little things. First, of course, Master gets to cum inside your ass. Ha! And then? Well…then a little more hemp and line. A wee touch of crimp and cramp! Ha! KEEP YOUR ASS UP IN THE AIR WHORE! DON’T MAKE ME LOSE MY TEMPER GIRL…I’M NOT ALWAYS THIS REASONABLE! Shut…your fucking…mouth. ASS IN THE AUR SLUT!!”
*************
It all began approximately six years ago with a waif named Addie Peterson. Blonde, blue eyed, fantastic legs. Great in bed. It was then - with Addie, herself a coed like Susan - that the Controller had learnt to take a victim with modest breasts…using rib hugging loops of milky white clothesline…posited both JUST above and JUST below the nipples…with intolerable pressure…to create a victim worthy of being photographed.
And filmed.
As he dragged Susan’s body by her hair from the Rape Room to one of his punishment areas the Controller thought upon Addie’s anguish of long ago. And decided that his present slave was perfect for identical treatment. Even before arrival at the threshold of the torture chamber the sadist contemplated how much time he would take - what sort of insults he would spew - as his ropes encircled Susan’s torso obliterating all but her nipples and the soon to be purplish, ballooning portions of her exposed breasts. Once he’d strung the bitch up on tiptoe by her wrists.
“Good girl. You like having my sperm up your ass, yes? Filthy whore. Now we get to have some real fun. This is better than the beach, huh Suzie? Hmmm…me thinks we’ll need to get that bikini top back inside your mouth slut. It’s about to get awful noisy all up in here girl. Ha! Jeez! I wonder what you look like Ms. Welch when you’re NOT crying. No worries. The next four days will be just as amusing as the first. Here we are! Ha! You look too tired and too worn out to be frightened to death Sue…that’ll soon change. I’m glad I selected you.”
The Controller retained trinkets of both Carol Macon and Addie Peterson. As he winched up Susan’s body for more rope torture he contemplated what he might keep as a trophy of his conquest of the blonde tramp from Bonham Park. His victim was half screaming and half pleading as the Controller this time put both the bikini bottoms and top inside Susan’s mouth. Then taped her entire face SHUT. Luckily for Susan the apparel was risque to a point where the blatant display of her flesh earlier upon the beach left precious little material for her to possibly choke on now.
“Good girl.”
Trinkets. Trophies. Talismans.
“When I played like this with Addie she especially grew to fear the stationery clips that crunched on her nipples. Once the ropes were firmly in place and her titties bulged. But that’s not for another hour or two so rest easy Blue Sue. Tell you what…to take your mind off the discomfort you might experience within your chest I can happily apply these ‘other’ stationery clips to your labium! Okies? Carol seemed to dance real fine whenever we played THAT game. Ha! Good girl. You’ve got a a very nice body Ms. Welch. Shall we start?”
