Why Me? Ch. 12

I was painfully aroused, my pussy soaked and my nipples rock hard, and I would have done anything just to come. I began to beg almost as soon as I was awake, pleading for the vibrator to be turned up, for my hands to be freed for just a moment so I could touch myself. I even begged to be fucked, to be used. It didn't matter what they did to me if only they would let me come.

It wasn't master Hawkes who had come to collect me that morning but one of the men who had used my mouth the day before and he completely ignored my babbling promises to do anything he'd like. He pulled the vibrator from my sopping wet pussy and I moaned and arched my back from the blessed sensation, craving more. He then released my arms from the floor, only to pull me into a sitting position and clip them together behind my back before I could reach down to touch myself. As soon as he freed my ankles I immediately pressed my thighs together, desperate for some extra sensation, and he slapped one of my nipples. I yelped, still sore from the abuse I'd received the day before, and spread my legs slightly, hoping that if I behaved I might be allowed to come. He hauled me to my feet and marched me out of the room, turning down a branch of the corridor I hadn't seen the night before and through a door to the outer courtyard.

It was a cool, grey morning and my nipples puckered as a chill breeze brushed across my body. I shivered slightly, feeling the wetness on my pussy, and tried to hurry towards the doorway on the other side of the yard. The man slapped my ass and held me back to a sedate walk, dipping his fingers into my wetness and then spreading it on both of my nipples. By the time we entered the mansion I was covered in goosebumps, my clit and nipples were swollen and hard with arousal, and I was panting with the desperate need to come

We walked down what I presumed was the same hallway I'd been in the day before, the one with the lush, thick carpeting. I was shocked by the opulence of my surroundings, and stared openly at the richly paneled wood walls and velvet draperies on the windows. There were marble statues spaced evenly in the alcoves between the windows and I felt another stab of lust in my gut when I saw what they depicted. Figure after figure showed naked women being fucked or abused in some way, and the formal nature of the marble made it seem all the more erotic and kinky to me. I gasped when we passed the first painting, a scene that at first looked like a traditional foxhunt but on closer inspection featured naked women being chased across a field while men on horseback rode after them. I shivered as I remembered my capture from the day before and wondered if the women in the painting had experienced something similar.

After traversing another hallway I was led through a doorway and down a set of stairs into a completely different environment. This hall was made of cold, damp cement, and the floors were rough and uneven. Metal doors were set into the walls at regular spaces and it was at one of these that the man finally stopped. He produced a key from his pocket, unlocked the door, and led me inside, shutting and locking it behind him. I stared at the small space, a room the size of a large bathroom, and fidgeted, unsure of what was to come. There was no furniture in the room, save for a wallscreen tv and a large padded chair that looked like someone had crossed a dentist's chair with a gynecological chair. The length of the thing was adorned with thick leather straps that would secure whoever sat in it, and there were multiple pedals and dials arranged around the base. The man uncuffed my wrists and maneuvered me into the chair, placing my hands and feet carefully into their respective rests. He began to apply the restraints, each strap snugged down carefully until I was completely immobile. There was one across my forehead, one each above and below my breasts, one across my hips, and then straps holding my thighs, calves, and ankles to the leg supports that were spread wide. Two more bands encircled my wrists. I tested my bonds carefully, becoming more and more nervous, but I could move nothing but my fingers and toes. This was soon remedied as more tiny straps were placed across them, rendering me completely helpless.

I stared straight ahead at the blank tv screen, watching out of the corner of my eye as the man began to fiddle with an apparatus of pipes that descended from the ceiling. He made a few adjustments and then hit a button, making me gasp as three pinpoints of red light shot down and highlighted my nipples and clit. He corrected the placement of the lights slightly, and then, looking satisfied, he hit a switch on the wall and left the room. The pinpoints of light vanished and I heard the sound of the key in the lock. Some small part of me was still desperately aroused, my pussy still dripping, but I was terrified of what my punishment would be.

The screen in front of me flickered to life and I saw an image of myself, strapped down to the bizarre chair-like contraption. The camera panned over my naked body, focusing in on my dripping pussy, and then zoomed out slightly and paused. I waited, staring and wondering, and then jumped as a single droplet of water fell from the ceiling and landed on my clit. I strained my head, trying to look up high enough to see where it had come from, but the leather strap made it impossible to see. I looked back at the tv screen just in time to see another drop fall and land squarely on my left nipple, the coldness of it stiffening that sensitive bud. I moaned, suddenly seeing what was happening, and flinched as a third droplet landed on my right nipple. There was a pause of a few moments and then three drops fell at once, landing on both nipples and my clit at the same time. I gasped at the sensation, my clit hardening and swelling to a ridiculous size, and began to cry in frustration. They were going to torment me with these faint touches on my most sensitive parts, torture me by not letting me come. I wanted to scream at them, rail against their cruelty, but I was terrified that if I didn't behave they might do worse. I bit down on my lip, willing myself not to be aroused, and then moaned loudly as another droplet splashed down onto my throbbing clit.

The scene on the tv changed and once again I was subjected to videos of other women being abused. The first one was of a voluptuous redhead doing jumping jacks, her gigantic breasts bouncing up and down in a painful looking manner. Every so often she'd slow or wrap her arms around her chest in obvious discomfort, and a whip would snake out and strike her on the ass. She was crying, and I tried to feel empathy for her but all I could summon was a faint envy for her comparative freedom. I would have traded places with her in an instant, and as if to reinforce my thought three drops of water fell in quick succession to splash onto my clit. I bucked against the restraints, knowing it was futile but unable to stop myself, and moaned as the scene on the tv changed again.

This time it was lovely black lady being tormented, her large breasts lifted up and away from her chest by a pair of nipple clamps attached to a bar over her head. She was straddling a barrel shaped device with a small rubber cock on it, and as I watched she lowered herself onto the dildo, stretching her thick, dark nipples and causing a grimace to appear on her face. It was quickly chased away by a look of arousal though, and I heard a buzzing noise emanating from the device she was sitting on. I soon noticed that the chains on her nipples were being slowly tightened, her breasts being pulled further and further upwards, and it was only when she gave a despairing cry and lifted herself off the vibrating dildo that they stopped retracting and held position. I moaned, this time feeling a measure of sympathy as I realized that she was being made to torture her own nipples in order to come on the vibrator. The drops of water had been falling in random patterns as I watched her, and I was getting steadily hotter and hotter.

More videos were played for me, some of girls being punished, some of them being fucked. A pretty brunette was shown sucking off a line of men, each one shooting his load all over her chest before she crawled to the next one and begged for his cock. A blonde lady was on her hands and knees, a mechanical dildo fucking her ass, her breasts bouncing from the force of the thrusts. A tiny looking Indian girl was shown lying on a bed with her wrists and ankles bound to the headboard above her, a crop striking her spread open pussy again and again while she cried and moaned. The images began to blur together, each one punctuated by the drips of water that rained down on my nipples and clit. My entire existence narrowed down to these three areas, my whole awareness focused on when and where the next drop would fall. I was so caught up in my own torment it took me a while to realize that the keening sounds I was hearing were my own, not those of the women on the tv. I fought the leather straps, clenched the muscles of my pussy, and wailed in frustration and need, aching for just a little more contact on my throbbing clit. I felt as if a puff of air would send me over the edge and yet again and again the drops would fall and I would come right to the edge of orgasm without going over. I felt as if I was going mad.

It could have been hours or days later that the door to the room opened. The tv shut off in the middle of a scene involving two women being fucked by six men, and I blinked stupidly up at the man who was standing over me. It took me a moment to recognize Master Hawkes but I immediately opened my mouth to begin begging for an orgasm. He held a hand up to silence me and I moaned, squirming as best I could in the chair.

"I know you want to come. The question is, have you learned your lesson? Will you obey whatever command I give you?" he asked.

"Yes!" I cried, "Yes sir, please, yes." I sobbed as I spoke, overjoyed at the thought of being allowed to come.

"Good girl." He said, trailing one finger along my stomach. "Before I let you come, I want you to tell me what you are."

I stared at him blankly, unsure what he was asking. He swirled his finger around my navel before sliding it upwards and tickling the underside of my breast. "You know what you are, little slut. Tell me."

The tiny part of my brain that was still really, truly me flinched, but I heard myself crying out the words he wanted to hear. "I'm a dirty little whore! I'm a slut who needs cocks in her holes, I'm just a filthy cunt who needs to be fucked and made to come, oh please sir let me come, please." I cried, the words jumbling together in my haste. He chuckled and reached into his pocket.

"Come for me, slut." He said, and shoved a vibrator into my pussy. I screamed, my vision going white, my pussy clamping down on the vibrator, my body straining so hard I thought I would break the straps holding me down. Master Hawkes grabbed one of my breasts and kneaded it, pinching the nipple hard as I came, sending waves of pure pleasure through me. My orgasm seemed to go on forever, pulsing through me almost painfully, but I finally went limp, gasping for breath as I fought to recover. Master Hawkes was still holding my nipple and he gave it an affectionate tweak, smiling down at me like I'd done something right.

"Good girl. Let's get you cleaned up. You have a visitor."