You have to watch very closely. Pick up clues. Obtain intel. Find out if vulnerabilities exist. And, if so, will that be beneficial to you.
I had seven days and as many nights to add a girl prior to Christmas Eve.
Here, in this place, it’s between the tall glass of water in the painted on jeans with a snug fitting top. And that pale piece of work over yonder sporting a plunging neckline and those very, very blue eyes.
In either case it’ll be a real pleasure to absolutely ruin her Holiday season.
So I imagine raping them. I nestle my Seagrams n Seven in my left hand and I make believe I’ve already tortured them. First the tall slut. Then - later - the pale whore. You have to watch them extremely closely beforehand. And it serves a purpose to (anticipate and) picture them sobbing. Whilst naked. Behind cast iron bars.
In a way they’re both doomed. I’ll select one and she’ll be battered and beaten before the first of the New Year. The remaining prey I’ll designate for later. In the spring? After the 4th of July? Perhaps next Christmas? I’ll get around to her.
You have to consider this carefully. For instance, the pale one is definitely in her late, late teens but she’s hampered by the braces that clad her white teeth. I surmise the beta-Male sitting astride her ponied up the dough for the dental work. Stunning body. But she can wait.
Which makes this the tall slut’s worst day ever. By process of elimination.
Merry Xmas to me.
**********************
I have her still in those alluring jeans. But shoes and winter socks have been cast off to a corner of my basement. Along with the snug fitting top I had a wonderful time cutting away from her body with a small but very imposing knife.
It’s good to have a brand new girl strung up by her wrists in my cellar. Her silent struggle (I have the whore gagged with a pair of panties from a previous victim…as well as some silver duct tape) accentuates nicely the display of her bra-cleavage as she dangles at my mercy.
You have to approach a new arrival with an open mind. What potential she might have…in bed or within a torture chamber. And it’s these first few hours together when a bloke like me can determine if a bitch has any land mines hidden in her psychological baggage.
To that end I’ve already beaten her severely once. And found that I liked the manner in which she begged for mercy. I’ve informed her - as she stared back at me wild eyed in horror - that I was intent upon keeping her as a sex slave. And that she could be certain that she was going to be raped repeatedly in the weeks to come.
Then I dropped the hint that ‘discipline’ might be needed if she didn’t see eye-to-eye with me in regards to the usefulness of her body. That made her sob uncontrollably.
At the risk of being repetitive you DO have to approach these matters with nuance. As well as a bit of flair. For instance, I’m just about to relieve the agonizing pain in her arms by fully lowering her body to the cement floor of her new prison. Experience tells me she’ll be SO grateful to be free of the excruciating pain in her back and shoulders that she’ll be still as I yank those jeans off her legs. And pocket her panties for eventual use with a future victim down the road.
Maybe the pale whore. Once her braces are off.
So I get her nakedness down to floor level and the pair of us have a discussion as to whether she’d prefer her initial rapes to be upon the mattress currently beneath us. Or atop the bed past the entry door, down a flight of steps and beyond the heavy steel door where my other slaves are housed. And abused. As she is weeping and pondering her choice I cut away her brassiere and look upon her totally nude body for the very first time.
And I immediately know for certain how in a month’s time I’m going to torture her.
You have to trust your instincts in these matters.
So a little while later I hammering away at her pussy in bed. Making it physically hurt as much as possible. While the two unfortunate females who’ve preceded this newest acquisition watch from a safe distance. Adorned in a pair of thee most confining and punishing hogtie restraints a sadist like me can conjure.
Afterwards I relived it in my mind…how I kept biting the new slut’s nipples even as my cock delved out large swathes of her cunt. How her pleas for mercy went unheeded because the gag over her filthy mouth reduced her to a warm body that needed to be fucked. I remember how my two lovelies who were already in tune with the ways and mean Belowstairs shivered in fear as I mentioned that only one of the three would have her pussy lips pierced in time for Xmas. So that Holiday ornaments could be hung from her body once I had the chosen bitch spread-legged. Dangling from the ceiling by her wrists and whimpering in abject humiliation.
Ah, those Christmas traditions beneath 2112 Division Street.
Patience is fine. In moderation. But sometimes you just gotta’ let it rip. So with this new girl firmly under control I’m considering ignoring my longer term tenants as they pathetically plead to be released form their hogtie torment. And concentrate instead on introducing the newbie to the agonies and ecstasies of anal rape.
Long story short I have to tightly bind up the new bitch’s hands behind her back because the agony of this brand of rape is overwhelming. That…as well as a choker leash around her neck so that I can control her naked body in such manner that my pleasure is magnified. And her own pain grows by leaps and bounds.
“Silver bells. Silver bells……”
