The Lesser Evil Ch. 01

Now, though, he coldly appraised her nude body with a lascivious grin on his face. The observer part of her squirmed with discomfort, but the exterior part sat stolidly under his gaze. Working quickly, he first clamped her wrists to the bars of the fly machine, so tight that she couldn't lower her arms at all. Then he held a riding crop in his hands, slowly slapping the business end into his palm. He said something to her. Though she couldn't hear it, the urge to obey strengthened even more, as did the buzzing in her head. She would do anything this man ordered.

Slap! The flat leather tab at the tip of the crop struck her right breast, just above the nipple, the surprise of the blow enhancing the sting. Wincing, she quickly closed her hands around the ends of the fly machine and pulled them together, straining against the heavy weights. As she released the pull and let the weight pull her arms apart, the crop smacked down on her again, this time to the top of her left breast. She pulled again, then released. Slap! He grazed her right nipple, which she was amazed to find standing at attention, as if begging for more. And pull. Slap! An underhanded flick, stinging the bottom of her left tit. And another pull. Slap. Pull. Slap. Pull. Slap. Pull. She sweated profusely as she tried to keep up with his maddening pace. When finally he let her rest, she didn't have any idea how many repetitions she'd done. Only that her breasts were sore and flushed from his repeated blows.

He left the room momentarily, through the mirrored door that was the only entrance. She remained in place, her obedient side still ready to continue pulling, if so ordered. Her observant side was shocked at the soreness of her muscles, not to mention the stinging heat still emanating from her brutalized tits. When he returned, he motioned for her to lay flat on the bench and then fastened her ankles to a metal bar hanging from the extended arm of the machine. The counterbalanced weight pulled her legs straight up in the air, and it took some effort just to keep her butt from lifting off the bench. She waited passively as he made an exaggerated wind-up motion, then slapped her right ass cheek with the flat end of the crop. At this painful signal, she strained to pull the bar down with her legs, keeping them as straight and extended as possible. After releasing that contraction, the machine's weight pulled her legs back to the vertical position. Slap! The blow to her left ass cheek sent pain stabbing through her butt. He was clearly hitting her harder on the ass than he had on her tits. Slap. Pull. Slap. Pull. Slap. Pull. The pain in her muscles and ass brought tears to her eyes. And the pain only increased when he walked around the bench and brought the crop down on her all-too-exposed pussy, causing her to gasp as the shocking sting reverberated along her nerves.

Again he left her, only to return, release her ankles from the bar and reattach her wrists to the fly machine. The crop whistled through the air, catching her flush on the right nipple. The pain exploded again, and she had to grit her teeth while bringing her arms together. He followed the same pattern as before, raining blows upon her boobs as she struggled to pull the weighted bars together. Halfway through, he pulled his shirt off, revealing a muscular torso that many women would've considered sexy had it not been covered with a thick crop of sweaty hair. When he finally stopped, her arms felt like jelly and throbbed with a vengeance. After less than a minute's rest, he returned and hooked her again to the leg pull. This time he was equally brutal to her pussy as to her ass, so that when she looked down, her bare cunt lips were striped by red slashes where he'd laid the leather to her skin. As before, he only stopped when she could no longer lower the bar at all, despite a triple lashing to her severely reddened ass.

Then, tossing aside the crop, he pushed off his shorts to reveal his already hardened cock standing stiffly away from his body. Against his large muscles it appeared kind of small, perhaps five inches or so. His balls were fairly big though, and covered with a thick mass of hair. With an evil and determined grin on his face, he stood at the end of the bench and pulled her legs upwards, until her pussy and ass were at the same level as his straining cock. Just as he prepared to cram his cock inside her, the door to the room flew open. Kyra's observer part of her was shocked to see Tom standing there! Had he been watching through the door's one-way glass the entire time? And if so, why had he allowed this Neanderthal to torture her?

Kyra watched as the two men argued, though she could hear nothing through the buzzing in her brain. The trainer began gesturing wildly, while her husband stolidly shook his head in the negative. Finally, only after her husband looked like he was going to release her, the trainer abandoned the conversation. With his cock just beginning to deflate, he strode to the side of the bench and threw his leg over her, settling astride her nude, sore and sweaty body. His weight forced her legs and body down to the bench mat, though the counterbalanced weights were still attached to the bar by the pulley. Reaching behind, he brutally fingered her still painful pussy, forcing his fingers deep into her hole, then twisting and pulling her juice- and sweat-covered pussy lips. The feel of her cunt yielding to his fingers evidently turned him on, for suddenly his cock had regained its full stature. Just then he whispered something in her ear, and she was immediately obsessed with the need to have his cock spurting its liquid treasure all over her tongue.

She strained against her bonds to wrap her lips around his cock, but he cruelly pulled it away from her, leaving her looking like a baby bird begging for food from its mother. He tired quickly of this game, and finally rewarded Kyra with his hard rod, which she hungrily gobbled into her mouth. So desperately did her body want his cock that she was literally drooling over it, her spit dripping out of her mouth and off her chin. As he fucked her face she sucked his cock, creating a dual motion that brought grunts of pleasure to his lips. Suddenly, his entire body convulsed and a stream of hot jizz jetted into her mouth, coating it in a layer of delicious seed. Her body trembled as she savored its heavenly taste, scent and feel. So delirious did it make her feel that she could barely bring herself to swallow it; she wanted to swish it around in her mouth forever. Only when he brutishly crammed his cock back into her mouth did she allow his cum to travel down her throat, at once upset at its absence but thrilled to have his cock back between her lips.

She had just started sucking him again when he abruptly pulled out of her mouth. She looked up in consternation to find that her husband had grabbed the trainer and pushed him away. Was Tom then going to let her suck him? As she gazed greedily at his groin, the buzzing stopped, all went black, and she was again drifting among all the light motes.

That hadn't been a dream! She would never dream that! For one thing, her trainer had been disgusting. Her mouth soured at the mere thought of him. For another, she couldn't conceive of a way that she'd be able to make up such an outlandish position, tied to the training equipment like that. And Tom? He'd be in there rescuing her, not leaving her at the hands of that disgusting man. No way that was her dream.

But what, then? A hallucination, maybe? Brought on by...what? She thought back to the tickling sensation she'd felt between her legs. Maybe that wasn't Tom. Maybe it was someone else. A doctor? Could she have been in an accident, and all these illusions were the result of the anesthetic? Did hallucinations have a theme? She didn't know. She'd never been under anesthetic. But it seemed possible. More possible than this all being a simple dream. She'd never dreamed in quite this detail. Or about things quite this erotic.

She floated for a while, thinking. The floating was peaceful enough. And she was careful not to touch any of the motes. But, what if she wasn't under any anesthetic? What if she was simply unconscious? Shouldn't she be trying to get back to the surface, to get back to full consciousness? That's what they always said in the movies. "Come back. Don't leave me." It seemed like she should at least try to return to the surface.

Kyra concentrated on the details she remembered from when she first awoke. The feel of the cool air on her nude skin. Her limbs strapped down. The darkness before her eyes. To her complete surprise, suddenly she felt the bed underneath her body! She'd returned! But what did that mean? Anesthetic? Accident? Dream? Or just her mind playing tricks on her? As she puzzled over it, she noticed that not everything was exactly as when she had left. The thing that had originally been brushing through the tops of her pubic hair was now trailing up and down along the ridges of her pussy lips, stroking her most intimate skin. It had to be someone's finger, she thought, making the guess based on sheer instinct. But whose? Was it Tom, still playing a cruel game? Not a doctor, surely. But what if she was under, and an orderly was fondling her? She'd read about that. They did that all the time. She strained to get her groin away from the stroking finger, but her body refused to move. She was well and truly tied down.

Though she felt somewhat separated from her body, the sensations emanating from between her legs were quite real. The stroking wasn't quite regular, it varied enough as to give her the feeling that the person was somewhat absent-mindedly fondling her. And while she had at first wanted to retreat from the sensation, now her body demanded that she try and get more stimulation. She tried to thrust her pussy against the finger. Again she was denied, her body refusing to move. It was a cruel and unusual punishment.

Her lack of mobility worried her. Could she be paralyzed? The thought skittered savagely through her mind before she was able to clamp it down. Think it out, she demanded of herself. She couldn't move, but she could feel the finger. That could mean the muscles weren't responding, but the nerves were. OK. No definite answer there. And who would bother to stimulate a paralyzed woman who couldn't respond? Could it be a ghost sensation, like the kind people who lost an arm or a leg felt? Possibly, but to have a ghost there has to be an original. And she couldn't remember anyone being that deliberate, not even herself. Tom would rub her off, but fast and hard, the same way he jerked himself off. And she even liked to do it rough and fast, usually fantasizing about being roughly treated or raped. So she didn't think it was a ghost sensation.

That left, what? Not enough information, that's what. Except for the seductive sensation of a finger tracing up and down her pussy, and her not being able to do anything about it. She felt she might go mad. At least the sphere and motes left her something to do.

To be continued...