4 Weeks Ch. 02byabbo27©
The radio alarm that should have woken her with the usual inane, over excited DJ chatter, did no more than briefly interrupt her tormented thoughts. Sleep had come in fits and starts, punctuated by hazily remembered, disconcerting dreams with a darkly erotic edge. She had thought of nothing else but the bargain she had struck the previous day and could not shake that feeling of disgust and shame at the way her body had reacted to his words and touch. It would not happen again. She would fulfil her side of the bargain but would give him the pleasure of seeing her pleasure.
What to wear? She checked out her reflection in the long hallway mirror and nodded in a grimly approving manner. Virtually no makeup, shapeless old jeans, usually reserved for gardening, teamed with a T shirt, many seasons past its best. Sarah, you look like shit, this is not a good look! She told herself. It had taken as long to choose this outfit as the endless changes she normally went through before a dinner party or theatre trip to create the opposite effect.
She took one last look in the mirror and steeled herself to leave the house. This was it. She had no idea what was awaiting but it had to be done. She walked down the drive, subconsciously hunching her shoulders trying to look as small and insignificant. She felt like she had a neon sign flashing above her.
Sarah, for God's sake hold yourself together she told herself as her fingers trembled, trying to enter the address she had been given by that bastard yesterday. She didn't even know his name. Sir, I can't call him Sir, that is ridiculous!
The soothing voice of the SatNav guided her away from the familiarity of suburban manicured lawns. Coffee Houses and boutiques made way for pawn shops and fast food oulets, which in turn made way for boarded up houses and corners populated with groups of youths, rendered faceless by hoodies.
"You have reached your destination," The SatNav informed her in that same soothing voice which now seemed totally incongruous with the situation. What was her destination? Was this a destination or a waypoint? What did he have planned?
She involuntarily jumped as her iphone rang, a number she did not recognise, she accepted the call without thinking.
"Whore, I am waiting, it 10.05, I said 10.00, get out of the car and come upstairs the door is open."
My God, he has my number, how the hell does he have that? She looked down at her watch without thinking but the Rolex Mark had given her as an anniversary present was not there. It had just seemed inappropriate and dirty to wear it this morning. She moved her eyes up to the clock in the dash and it confirmed she was late.
She stepped out of the car and approached the house. An unloved, nondescript terrace; peeling paint and cracked windows. The door opened to her push and she entered. The house exuded damp and decay. The building works to come were indicated by stacks of cement and plaster bags. The walls had been stripped of plaster, back to the bear bricks and dust hung heavy in the air.
She ascended the carpetless stairs. The internal walls and ceiling had all been removed to give an almost cavernous sense of space to such a small house.
"Whore, you have made a wise choice to come but you are late. There will be a consequence for that"
He was sat, dressed much the same as yesterday in workman's boots, jeans and T shirt; all soiled with the detritus of building work. He rose and began to walk slowly towards her.
She took a small step backwards and felt her throat dry almost instantly. She swallowed hard. "Take you clothes off, whore." he said in an emotionless but insistent voice. She did not react, this was all crazy; what was she doing here? The anger bean to mount within her.
Before she could respond she was stunned by the sting of her cheek as he slapped her. She tried to cry out but the words were choked off by his hand as it tightly gripped her throat. His other hand in one motion had grabbed a hand full of hair from the back of her head and was using it to pull it back until she was staring up at the rafters.
Fear became the overwhelming emotion, she stood as still as he could, her breath coming in short bursts.
"If this is going to work whore, I expect you to do what I ask, when I ask."
"Yes, I will"
"I will, Sir!" he said in the same measured tones as before but reinforcing his point by strengthening his grip on her throat which caused her to gag as she struggled to breathe.
"Yes Sir." she almost pleaded, and then quickly divested herself of the dowdy clothes in which she had come.
She stood before him, naked, and consumed with vulnerability. The small bit of resistance and fight had left her. She made to cover herself up, one arm across her breasts, the other protecting her groin. She could feel his eyes burning into her naked body. He reached into a tool box and removed a blindfold which he then placed over her eyes. This only served to further disorient her.
With her other senses heightened by this depravation of sight, she listened intently. She felt his presence, he was walking around her, he was close, she was sure of that. She tensed but no touch was forthcoming. Her breathing became more normal but her mind was still racing, there was still a sense of fear but for some reason his deep measured tones were reassuring, almost hypnotic.
She was abruptly brought out of this trance like state by the shock of his hand grabbing her wrist and forcing it away from covering her breasts and down to her side. He then proceeded to make a rope cuff and repeat the process with the other arm. He then looped the rope over the exposed rafters, pulled and secured her arms above her head.
God this felt unreal, surreal, bizarre. She began to whimper. He continued, unaffected by her tears. Each ankle was secured with rope and then pulled apart until her body formed an obscene X.
She sensed his face was close to hers and she moved her head away. As she did so his hand again gripped her throat.
"That's better whore isn't it?" he whispered as he began to trace the shape of her breasts with his other hand.
She shivered at his touch. She wanted to moved away but the firm grip on her throat prevented it. She gasped audibly as his hand found its way down her stomach and began to caress her inner thighs.
Don't react she screamed at herself silently as he continued to caress and stroke. She went to close her legs but another squeeze of her throat was enough to make her swiftly change this plan. She felt his finger enter her.
"As I thought, you are soaking wet whore. Just what I expected of you, normal women don't react like this, do they, but whores like you do."
His finger probed deeper, his grip on her throat was unrelenting.
Don't react, don't react! It was no good she felt her hips start to move in time to his fingers, pushing back against them.
"That's it whore, let go, surrender, let it all out"
His voice was filling her head, she couldn't explain this feeling, and god she wanted to cum and began to push back against his fingers more insistently.
He seemed to sense this and slowed his pace. His other hand left her throat and started to gently squeeze her nipple.
"You are not just going to become my whore, you are going to become my pain whore too. You will come to crave it along with whatever filth I require."
The words were starting to have no meaning but 'whore' was starting to resonate with her. Every time he said it she could feel her wetness increase. This was so wrong she told herself but she was overtaken with an irresistible urge to cum. At this point his gentle pressure on her nipple became a twisting, hard source of shooting pain that spread throughout her body.
She screamed and gasped at this conflict of pain and pleasure that felt like an electrical storm raging throughout her body.
"No one can hear you scream here. I am not hurting you to punish you. I am hurting you because I enjoy it, it makes me hard. You will come to embrace pain because you will come to love pleasing me."
He squeezed harder which brought forward another gasp, all the while continuing to finger fuck her.
Rational thought was getting difficult. She started to drift. She became aware she was still grinding her hips against his fingers.
"Good girl, enjoy the pain and pleasure, immerse yourself in it, let it wash over your whole body, let yourself go, that's a good girl."
"Please Sir, you are hurting me, please stop." she pleaded.
"Whore, I have only just started, look how wet you are." With that he removed his fingers from between her legs and started to trace her upper and lower lips. She licked greedily at her own juices as he inserted two fingers into her mouth. He slowly withdrew them and as he did so she moved her head forward, not wanting to be deprived of her taste.
He moved his hand down to her wetness again and with the other, began to slap her breasts. As each blow landed she tensed and let out a gasp. She tried to twist out of the way but the ropes held her securely.
The rhythm of his fingers and the blows began to merge.
"Good girl, you are doing well. Enjoy the pain like the whore you are."
She was drifting off again. What's happening to my body? God I want to cum.
He sensed her desire. "I want you to let yourself go whore, cum for me, do you want that whore?"
"Yes Sir, please Sir, I want to cum."
"If only your friends could see you now whore, tied, bruised, sopping wet cunt, naked and begging to cum. What would they think?"
He was right, what the fuck am I doing? What would they think? A wave of revulsion swept over her. He was right, I shouldn't be enjoying this.
Her thoughts were cut short as he inserted two fingers inside her and she felt the warmth of his breath and the hardness of his body as he forced his lips onto hers. She started to withdraw her head but he prevented this by grabbing a handful of hair. He withdrew his lips slightly and whispered,
"Whore, do you want to cum?"
"God, yes Sir." She blurted involuntarily. She could feel the orgasm building within. Her body was hyper-sensitive, her nipples and breasts sore beyond belief. He once more placed his lips on hers but this time she responded, their tongues met as her body began to shake as wave after wave of pleasure ripped through her body. She screamed and continued to grind herself against his fingers, not wanting the waves to stop. Finally they subsided and she slumped, her knees bent, arms supported by the ropes.
She became aware that he had freed her arms, supporting her limp body in his arms. She sank to her knees, her arms by her sides as her ankles were also untied.
It's all over, she thought to herself, her mind still cloudy, confused and disorientated from the deprivation of sight and the sensory overload of pain and pleasure.
She sensed he was stood in front of her and heard the unmistakable sound of his flies being unzipped. She inhaled deeply, revelling in the smell of his manliness, feeling the heat from his body on her face.
"Open your mouth whore."
Unthinkingly she complied and felt the hardness of his cock brush past her lips. It tasted good, it felt right, but it shouldn't she told herself. It was not working, she could feel herself getting wetter and wetter. Once again he grabbed a handful of hair and began to force his cock, deeper into her throat.
"You are a good whore; see how hard you have made me?" he whispered straight into her ear.
Her hand moved down between her legs and started to rub. God she wanted to cum again. He thrusted harder and deeper, she could taste his pre-cum. Panic began to rise within her as his cock found the back of her throat. She gagged, tears rolling down her cheeks, she pulled sharply back.
Slap, she felt her cheek burn as he slapped her face again.
"Open our fucking mouth whore. You are mine to use." This time there was added venom to his voice.
"Stick out your tongue."
Mindful of her burning cheek she did so. He placed his cock on top of her tongue which enabled him to force it right to the back of her throat. His movements became rougher as he fucked her face, forcing her nose into his pubic hair, squashing her nose.
I can't breathe, I can't breathe she wanted to scream, but all that came out was drool, dripping down her chin. Her body had gone into full panic mode, twitching and fighting to get air into her burning lungs as she gagged but he kept the pressure on the back of her head. He let out a low moan. The bastard's enjoying choking me!
Just as she felt she was going to vomit he released her head. She gulped huge volumes of air into her lungs and continued to breathe hard, gagging once more.
"Let's see how wet that whore cunt is," he smirked, once more inserting his fingers into her.
"God I want to cum!" To her horror she realised she had screamed this out loud. He laughed, slapped her right breast and forced her onto her back by her hair.
"Bring yourself off whore," he commanded, forcing her hand back between her legs then pushing her knees apart. Pain once again shot through her body as he squeezed and twisted her nipples.
Her fingers worked furiously bringing forth an instant climax, even more powerful than the last. As soon as she began to cum the pain in her nipples stopped and was replaced by a blinding light as he yanked off her blindfold. She screwed up her eyes and desperately tried to focus. He was kneeling over her, cock in hand. She was still cumming when the first spurt of his semen hit her nose. She was shocked at how warm it felt. He spurted again this time on her cheek, then her lips.
Her orgasm began to subside, she could feel the semen slowly sliding down her face, taste its saltiness on her lips. She shut her eyes, and became aware of her breathing, the stinging nipples, her aching breasts.
Her mind started to focus once more.
"Fuck, I have got cum all over my face, I can smell it and taste it!"
Does it make you feel like a whore!"
"Yes it does Sir." she replied in a half sob, half whisper.
The ecstasy was once more replaced with disgust and self loathing. She attempted to wipe of his cum but could do nothing but smear it over her face and onto her hand. She shut her eyes once more and rolled up into the foetal position.
She felt the warmth of his hand as he began to run it from her thigh, along her side and over the side of her breast. As it touched her breast she winced and took a sharp intake of breath. It was sore, probably bruised.
"You did well whore, I am pleased. You have a long way to go but it was a good start."
She found his words and touch strangely reassuring. Her breathing was becoming deeper.
"Is that it?" she whimpered.
"For today. I will text you your instructions for tomorrow, you can let yourself out." With that he stood up and departed.
She remained motionless, listening to his footsteps receding across the room followed by the sound of the front door opening and closing.
Nothing made sense, this was totally fucked up. She cupped her breast that had taken the worst of his slapping tenderly and winced again. She looked down and saw it was reddening and starting to bruise. She couldn't let Mark see this, how could she explain it. Shit, I will have to undress and dress in the dark.
The events of the morning started to lose their dream like qualities and take on an only to real sharpness. God what did I let him do? Her finger told her she was still soaking wet. She began to rub herself again. Stop it Sarah, you are not a whore!
She continued to rub.