The records are sketchy but it’s certain she was raped at least once in college. Jessica Maynard possessed the sort of brown eyes and killer figure that drew in a bad sort of ‘man’ on a twenty-four seven basis.
That was then.
This was now.
‘Now’ meant that Jessica up until the day before yesterday was thinking that at thirty-two years of age it was time to consider a long term relationship. Even a family. The brown eyes were still those of a doe. And that killer figure had been accentuated by Jessica’s penchant for wearing both expensive underthings and four-inch heels just about everywhere.
Up until the day before yesterday.
Because - at present - Jessica Maynard was in no position to contemplate the prospect of marriage. Or family life. It was four days before Thanksgiving…2024…and Jessica’s amazing brown eyes were fixed upon that which terrified her.
Her and I were literally at the threshold of a subbasement that I (in my wisdom) maintained within my lair. I was directly behind Jessica as we stood in that brightly lit doorway. She was in a pair of those fine expensive underthings that simultaneously showed off one of the greatest bodies I’d ever stalked as well as cast a blanket of shame over Jessica due to her vulnerability to what was about to happen.
“Please, sir…not…not th-this. Please!”
With my right hand I had a firm grip of the brass circlet that dominated the degrading slave collar Jessica had been forced to wear since the day before yesterday. With my left hand I kept control of my victim by tugging on the knot of twine that existed between Jessica’s wrists…once her arms had been bound up uncomfortably behind her back.
“Hush girl. I haven’t made up my mind yet.”
For the brief but very enjoyable time Jess had been my captive I had often pondered her ordeal as a victim of sexual abuse years before. As a coed at State. So in this moment - at the threshold of my torture chamber - I juxtaposed the dread presently in those beautiful brown eyes with the humiliation Jessica must have experienced in the days (and weeks) after her unreported rape (or rapes) more than a decade ago.
“I’ll…I’ll keep doing what y-you want sir. Please. Please don’t hurt me…”
Well I was certainly going to ‘hurt’ Jess. The trick was doing it without leaving any annoying marks or blemishes upon this exquisite body I now owned. And it was always a question of when. Today? The day after Thanksgiving maybe? In a month’s time? After a year had passed with her as my sex slave?
“I could have sworn I just said that you should keep your filthy mouth shut whore……”
These were the best moments. Jessica being half naked, trussed up and in the process (again!) of breaking down in tears. Gorgeous!
There was much for Jess to fear inside this room we contemplated entering. For years I had collected up and burnished the silver chrome implements of physical torture. Along with their sadistic cousins…the leather and hemp of bondage and beatings. Jessica’s gaze took in as well the ‘surfaces’ of my playroom; one at the horizontal…another at a forty-five degree angle…and at least two or three that seemed to be rigged so that nude female bodies might be strung up, displayed and abused.
Jessica’s whimpering grew loud. The bitch looked fine in a bra and panties.
“There is another room” I taunted. “Down the corridor. There’s a bed inside there Jessica girl. A bed and very, very few items that bite, scorch or sting. Shall I take you there whore? You have permission to speak Jess……”
The whimpering slackened for a brief second and those gorgeous brown eyes went wide with false hope.
“Yes please! Yes sir. Take…t-take me there sir…pl-please. I’ll be good. PLEASE!”
In tandem - with me still clutching at both the collar circlet and the wrist bindings - we turned away from the chamber in which young girls are brought to writhe in agony and headed east. Towards my other recreational area on this level. Jessica’s bare feet sounded like muffled tom toms as they padded their way to a location within which her worthless body could be afforded some value.
“Thank you sir. Thank you so much!”
This was a telling moment. Two days after Jessica’s abduction. Four days prior to Thanksgiving. And just over four months away from Jessica Maynard’s thirty-third birthday in late March.
“Don’t worry slut…you’ll thank me later. You can count on that.”
Like I had several times before I ‘allowed’ Jessica to keep her bra on as I pounded away at her vagina. As I listened to the groaning ropes that kept my slave’s arms and legs pinned tightly (very painfully) in a resplendent spread-eagle. Jess was face up on the bed…I was atop her. And despite the panties stuffed inside her mouth I was exhilarated at how Jessica winced and chirped due to the discomfort my cock was impacting upon her overwrought pussy.
“Good girl. Now…if you want to avoid visiting my torture chamber Jessica it might be advisable that you start filling me in on what happened to you at Cray Hall. In 2011. And 2012. I like that sort of thing. It’ll be good to hear it from the horse’s mouth, so to speak.”
Agonized and completely helpless, Jessica frantically nodded her assent to me. As she was raped. It’s like I’ve told each and every slut who has preceded Jessica Maynard to my lair:
“You don’t deserve any privacy. What you deserve - and what you’re going to get - is punishment. I use intimacy as a weapon kid…and the cavalry ain’t coming cos’ nobody gives two shits about you. You’re my property now. Just make sure I have a good time - EVERY TIME! - or else I may cease to be so reasonable.”
It’s a good speech. Has been for twenty plus years……
“Muugghh! Na - aagghh! Mugh - mugh - uugggghhhhhh! Ma- aaaarrrrgghhhhhh!!”
It was on or about the third time I raped Jessica that day - just down the corridor from the room in which I would eventually torture her - that I informed her I had a nice Thanksgiving Day meal in mind for the both of us. And that (if she behaved) a suitable Christmas present or two (lingerie and pink, padded hand cuffs) would be made available. As I fucked my whore as hard as I could I told her that I looked forward to champagne with her ('You’ll be naked Jessica’) on New Year’s Eve. And that Valentine’s Day was always a special occasion Belowstairs. I even mentioned the itinerary for her next birthday. I told Jess that she was indeed a very fortunate young woman that a male of my ilk had chosen her for discipline.
“Mu - aaaarrrrgggghhhhhh!”
Afterwards - believe you me - the slut was very forthcoming with excruciating details related to Cray Hall in 2011. And 2012. From Jessica’s description of the events I had a fairly solid idea of who had raped her (repeatedly, according to Jess) back then. A good man, yes…but then like now Conrad lacked a suitable locale to transport his lovelies to. Lacked the means to truly control and devastate an innocent victim.
Which made me glad that all these years later I was able to step in and finish the job.
