The Ladder

She sobbed softly as he untied her hands and ankles, and freed her tits from their own private torture. She had let out a cleansing scream when the nipples were free and he slapped her hard across the face. "Enough"
"Yes, Sir."

She stood shivering, part from cold, part from fear, and part from that sense of imbalance that results from dancing so long on the edge of an orgasm. He led her towards the open flame and forced her to her knees, making sure she followed the prescribed position of separating her cheeks with the heels of her feet. Talking softly and gently, he brushed back the hair from her forehead as the fire warmed her body. She tried desperately to relax, but the pain of the whipping and her breasts were sending thunderous signals through her nerves. Her breathing became so rapid and shallow that she started to sway.

"Take a deep breath, pet. Now another. Stay with me now. We have a long way to go."

Her shoulders relaxed, as did her breathing. The warmth of the fire was turning her mellow despite what she had just endured. He slipped down to kneel behind her, and drew her into his arms. They sat on a pile of sleeping bags. His legs wrapped around hers, and her hands held his thighs. Her eyes closed and she drifted in his arms.

His voice in her ear was a rip of instant fear. And her eyes flew open in shock. "Don't move a muscle. This is going to hurt."

He had withdrawn a small surgical needle from the fire and was blowing on it softly as it cooled. His other hand had a firm grip on her breast and he fondled her nipple between his fingers.

"NOOOO" she screamed.
"It is what I wish, pet. Now hush, sweetness, focus for me."

He gritted his teeth as her fingers dug into the sides of his legs, and he pressed the sharp needle against the side of her tit. Once he punctured the skin, the needle eased through her nipple without resistance. He was instantly hard. She screamed a silent, air filled cry. Then she began to cry for him to please, please take it out.

"When you've swallowed my cock without a tear, bitch."

He stood above her then and brought her face to his cock with a violent twist of his wrist. She fought against him. She tried to block her throat with her tongue, and prevent his ability to get any farther down her throat. He left a large hand print across the side of her face where he corrected her attempts. When she screamed, he shoved down into her throat and began to fuck it. He moaned at the tightness and let himself savor the unbelievable strength of her tongue as he forced himself beyond it.

He came deep in her throat. She felt the heat of his seed in her throat before she tasted it. He remained there until he squeezed the last drops on the tip of her tongue. He softly wiped the tears from her eyes and wished her better luck next time.

He threaded thin plastic line through the eye of the needle.

"I'm going to remove the needle now. Ready?"

She looked at him with vacant eyes, past agreeing or disagreeing with anything he wanted to do to her. Her jaw felt locked, holding her mouth wide open as if he were still there. He took the look for a yes, and with some tugging, drew the line through the newly pierced hole. He tied the line in a loose loop and gave it a tug.

"Just to make sure the knot holds."
"Yes, Sir," she gasped.

She felt the growing burn in her nipple where the thin plastic line had followed the needle. She looked down at the disfigurement. It seemed that even her breath caused the line to move, shattering her hold on all conscious thought. She was floating a rushing sea of adrenaline. Her nerves were totally bound to the building explosion in her cunt.

He held his hand between her legs then, and began to play with her clit.

"Would you like to orgasm?"
"Yes, Sir, please"
"Then masturbate on my hand. Move, squirm, slut. Make yourself come for me, whore."

She let her legs side open and felt his fingers rise into her cunt. As her lips molded around his fingers, she realized he held his hand to let her clit rest on his thumb. She began to ride his hand. Soon she was thrashing and holding herself upright with her hands on his shoulders. She held onto a crest of expounding electricity. Tears streamed down her face as she began to realize she was again to that all or nothing brink of orgasm, a mounting explosion made so much more powerful through the earlier denial. Her breathing almost ceased. Her body tightened, anticipating a burst of rhythmic clenching in her cunt. This moment was just her, a pure moment of satisfaction. She hung on the edge, and was about to let herself over.

"Don't forget to ask for permission, pet."
"FUCK YOU" she screamed. "FUCK YOU."

He jerked on the fishing line in response and felt her spasms begin on his fingers, and the rush of cum from her already dripping cunt. She lost all sense of awareness as the orgasm racked her body. The rhythm of her cunt slowed, but grew in intensity. She literally squeezed his fingers with the depth of her climaxes. Still she pushed against him, impaling herself on his hand, her clit on his thumb. He began to fuck back. He pushed his hand deeper into her and prolonged the orgasm, extending it beyond its original life.

Collapsing to the floor, she looked up in sincere apology.

"Sir?"
"Yes, pet?"
"I am very sorry I cursed at you. I don't know where that came from."
"Perhaps you'll remember tomorrow."
"Tomorrow, Sir?"

He smiled an evil look, thinking of the morning.
"Tomorrow, when you are punished for it, pet."