Exotic Destination

He too felt the discomfort, but not as sore. It just making him last longer, a mere distraction, even though the knowledge that she was standing there bent over suffering for him, made him harder and more aroused than ever. Riding her, hand bunched in her hair as she pushed back and cinched on his shaft, hoping to make him cum quickly.

After he did cum, intentionally jetting his seed just inside her opening so it would flow out as she walked, he pulled her bikini back up, smearing their juices up against her vulva, making it slick and tangy with sand particles scattered around her crotch. Still she had not been able to satisfy that eternal itch, even with him fucking her fast and furiously. The gritty squelch of her pussy a constant physical reminder of her state.

As they reached the villa. "Strip. Then shower the sand and stuff off before we go inside."

She knew not to argue. The shower was cold but refreshing. Soothing on her sun heated skin, getting the sand off. Then on his direction, sticking a finger up inside herself to scoop out cum and sand, washing her intimate but defiled passage. Yet another humiliation in a long line of embarrassing acts performed on his command, as he reclined watching, and enigmatic smile playing over his lips.

"Now come and clean me off of your mess." Once she was clean. At first not realising what he was saying and then mortified seeing him open his boardshorts and take his sticky sand peppered organ out for her attention. Sitting down on the side of his recliner, tentatively licking the tangy gritty concoction. Then swallowing it when he gave her a warning growl as she was about to spit the foul mixture out. Feeling so small and worthless against his uncompromising demands.

He started getting hard with the stimulation making her hopeful she might eventually be satisfied. Leading her on, before lifting her head and crushing her flickering hope, by saying "I'm exhausted, let's go inside to rest."

Dozing on the couch in the lounge, head on his muscled shoulder, body moulded to him, feeling more and more aroused with his masculine mastery and her feminine frustration. Wanting to ask, but being too shy, too timid. Him always taking the lead, her following. Not knowing if she dare ask for release, or even how to. So, she lay there squirming, desperate, while he snored gently, unconcerned.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter 6 - Promises

He woke to her fingers running through the rough hairs on his chest, salt and pepper contrasted with his smooth tanned skin. She had been lying on his sleeping form, head resting on his broad chest, listening to his slow strong heartbeat, smelling the manly odour of musky sandalwood from his deodorant blend with the fresh scent of sea, salt and sun. Those same hairs that she was playing with had tickled her nose and stimulated her nipple, but she wouldn't move for anything.

Despite everything, she felt safe here with his arm unconsciously hugging her, hand draped on her naked hip. This man who had educated her, spoiled her, seduced her, made her feel desired and appreciated like no one else. She was irresistibly drawn to him and his power, surrendering her control to him, willingly because the intensity of that feeling was like nothing else she had ever known.

Yes, he had raped her, hurt her, humiliated her, but then cared for her and mended her more than her mother, more than anyone else. The time she grazed her knee badly, falling when some bullying girls at school had pushed her around, teasing her mercilessly about the way she looked and how nerdy she was, always reading, always studying. It was him that taught her that afternoon, before her mother was even home, how to clean it, treat it, bandage it.

All the while telling her how brave she was, how beautiful she was, how smart, how well-read, how much better she was than those girls. Making the hurt on her knee and in her heart go away, just that little bit, enough to feel better. Yes, he told her she had to 'suck it up', not get stuck on the pain, but it was all about her, no one else.

Her mother not really engaging her about it, just making a throw away remark about 'girls-will-be-girls' and she shouldn't take it too seriously. Later that night, he told her to love and understand her mother, but accept that she had limited time for a daughter. Telling her that he was here for her, always. Her father figure, not to replace her father but to be here now that he was not.

"What are you doing?" Waking and looking down at her over the end of his nose, hand slipping down to stroke her backside.

"I love lying here on you." Feeling guilty, but hoping he understood. "It feels good."

A flash of lust across his expression. His hand now in her hair, pulling it back to bend her neck, mouth open, looking up into his piercing blue-grey eyes, the colour of the sea. His mouth smothering hers, pulling her to him by only her hair, sharp jabs of pain as if it's being pulled out by the roots. But also, so strong and dominant, his tongue plunging into her mouth, twirling with her smaller tongue, rampaging across her little teeth and pink gums, lips mashing each other, teeth occasionally clattering with the force of his kiss. Her soft sensitive girlish chin rubbed and scratched by his day-old hard stubble. Completely at his mercy.

Her body feeling a flood of emotions as her arousal ramps, nipples harden to small pebbles, flush spreads across her chest up her neck, stomach quivers deep with small shockwaves, vagina gushes hoping for some attention. Doing what it is naturally meant to do and what he has coached it to do; respond to his command, his attention, his desire, his hard muscles pressing her pliant flesh.

She feels his manhood probing, erect with excitement, lust taking over. Rolling onto her with knees spreading her legs, the feel of his leathery skin on her velvet thighs, his cock turgid and hard poking at her loins. He guides the head up and down her slit, his silken glans slipping through her juice-moistened lips, before with one of the hard thrusts she has come to expect, he is embedded in her clenching depths. The suddenness causing a twinge of discomfort, but making her feel full, whole, complete. His pelvis grinding hard into hers, her clit inflamed and squashed, sending shocks through her body, in time with the pulsing pleasure from deep in her sex.

He takes her then, perched on his hands, buttocks rippling as he drives home, her legs splayed and twisted around his back, heels drumming him hard, pushing him in deeper. She holds his chest, not able to reach behind, hands scrabbling vainly like a climber trying to get a grip on a hard rock wall, her thin fingers scratching, leaving nail marks down his sides. Her sunburned back rubs on the couch, tingling, scratching, irritating the tender skin, increasing her tactile awareness and the intensity of her experience.

He doesn't seem to notice, just pounds harder. Then a hand around her neck, increasing the pressure, scrutinising her like an eagle holding its prey. She feels the blood pound in her carotid artery, trying to get to her brain, past his tightening fingers. Her hands now grabbing at his wrist, in an attempt to stop the slow wash of blood across her vision, the creeping darkness, her consciousness fading, even while he continues to pound her to oblivion.

As she faints, he releases the pressure, so she revives within a couple of seconds. Eyes wide, searching for answers, momentary amnesia, but then she feels the cock inside her, ravaging her depths with little concern except its own gratification. Her body responding, whether conscious or unconscious; lubricating, stimulating, arousal peaking.

An enigmatic smile plays across his lips as he starts squeezing again and she starts resisting. This time her whole body, writhing against the impending blackness, making the experience that much better for the predator inside him. Loving the fact that he controls everything, even when she is conscious. At his whim. And regardless of her resistance, he drives her to another blackout and her pussy to even greater wetness as the fear endorphins course through her veins.

Coming around again, she mouths without air 'Stop! Please?" While at the same time her hips buck instinctively into his, trying to get him deeper, lifting her up towards her approaching summit. And without a sign of compassion, he just repeats the pressure on her neck a third time. His own blood boils, the sensations of her trembling body, her clenching cunt, her desperate eyes, her ragged breath, her sweat-soaked skin driving him onwards.

Resurfacing from the quiet darkness, this time all she can feel is the fire in her loins as it receives his hard, sleek organ. Sensitive skin plunging into delicate folds, lubricated by her wetness and his precum, sliding ecstatically, making him cum, deep strong jets of his seed, washing her womb, filling her with a warmth that sets off the orgasm she has been yearning for since the previous night.

"Clean me off." As he stands up, seemingly unaffected by the crescendo of feelings she was sure he must have felt. Her body still reverberating with the shocks and euphoria of her climax. Obediently sucking and licking their juices off his wilting manhood, feeling their juices ooze out of her own satiated but defiled hole, her feelings ignored while his are served. Humiliated at the comparison, she just looks down at the job she is doing, unable to meet his eyes, her submission absolute.

"I promised you three ear piercings." The change to transactional, baffling her, looking blank. "Oh, come now. Surely you remember. A month ago, you said you wanted piercings and your mother had forbidden it." Now nodding with recollection. "I said I'd arrange it, but there was something you must do first."

"Thank you. Yes. I so want three studs here. It'd be so kewl." The naïve girl, rubbing the top part of her left ear, like she was already imagining the studs.

"We'll go this afternoon. But first your side of the bargain." He walked into the kitchen returning with a small bowl and a tin box.

"Lie down. We're going to put this in your left tit. To match your earrings." Holding up a thin half-inch gold ring, as he placed the bowl and tin on the side table.

She looked at him in disbelief. "I don't want that. . ."

He moved so quickly that he had grasped her by the throat again, with a relentless grip, before she knew what was happening. Her hands went up to his wrist to ease the pressure, as he swatted her left tit, really hard, leaving a red handprint burgeoning on the pale white skin, merging with the red sunburn around the small pale triangle imprinted by her bikini top.

She screamed and grabbed her breast as the burning stinging pain hit her brain. His hand returning, backhand onto the right breast, indenting and then wobbling as another bruising red mark emerged. She started sobbing and holding her agonised chest, looking up at him as if he were a monster.

"Put. Your. Fucking. Hands. Down. NOW!" Anger brimming from his expression staring at her tear-filled eyes. Her hands dropped, replaced by his. Twisting a nipple and asking. "Whose tits are these?"

Full realisation of the situation she was in flooded her face. She answered slowly, not meaning it, but knowing it was the only answer in that moment "Y-y-yours?"

"So, if I want to slap them, what do you do?" Almost amiable in his tone. Bewilderment at the dramatic difference from seconds before.

"I let you?" Every molecule of her being rejected the statement, but her mind couldn't comprehend denying him the truth.

In any case, it didn't help, because he slapped her left breast again. "That's right. And if I want to put rings in them, what do you do?"

"I... I... l-l-let y-y-you." Sobbing in defeat.

"See, you can learn. With a little discipline." He smiled, even his eyes crinkling. "Let's try again. Lie down. I'm going to pierce your nipple. What do you say?"

"Oh. . . kay. . . Th-thank you?" Again, not knowing how he wanted her to respond, but hoping to calm his anger. She could cope with this. It wouldn't be so bad. And then she could take it out when she got home. At least she would have the studs in her ears. She wouldn't take those out, because she'd definitely have earned them.

He swabbed her nipple with spirit alcohol, making it stand erect from the cold. She was on her back on the couch hands underneath her backside so that they wouldn't move. He loved the way the nip puckered, tensed by the evaporating alcohol cooling the skin. And he was sure, the fear he saw in her eyes was contributing, while the arousal of their fucking was sure to be dwindling.

Her small areolae were responding in expected ways. Pink skin crinkling, glands raised as if in anger, the colour darkening as blood rushed to the cooling skin. He flicked the nub and pinched the nipple area to ensure they stayed hard and erect for the coming needle.

Her face scrunched with fear, her lips puckered into a tight rosebud of anguish. She'd involuntarily hunched her shoulders as if that would lessen the pain that she was certain would drive her insane. Her entire being rebelled at the thought of him piercing her nipple, but there was no way out. Not with this man.

Not able to look as he took two pieces of ice and clasped the fearfully erect nipple between them hard, burning her with the cold and pressure. The freeze turning her nipple pale pink-blue, driving the blood away, making the nubs harder, more erect, like hard pencil erasers jutting out of the swelling mounds of her sensitive breasts. The cold ache lancing her flesh like she expected the impending needle would.

She gritted her teeth when he reached over to get the instrument of her torture. Involuntarily glancing down, she saw he had a huge sewing needle between his thumb and forefinger. He brought it to the outside of her nub, while squeezing her breast meat firmly to make the nipple pop up and stand proud.

Blood rushed in and she watched her rock-hard nipple involuntarily face the oncoming onslaught of the needle, staying hard so the unwanted steel could pierce its depths, forever changing and damaging her precious breasts. He circled the needle as if trying to select the right spot, but actually just waiting for the nipple to rewarm after the ice, so the effect would be that much more pronounced. The scratches on her sensitive skin hurt while she waited, watching. He drew the process out, so the anticipation was more agonising than the act, each nick of her nipple like a cut deep into her heart. Her teat prickled with expectation and increased sensitivity, as the warmth returned.

"Don't move." Eventually, he pushed the needle into the crinkled skin, feeling its sponginess give way before the point started to break through. "Stay still otherwise it'll slice your boob." How could he say that so calmly? What a horrid thing to say. What an awful thought. How would she stay still with this pain? Forced on her by the man who claimed to want to protect her.

"Pleeeeeeeeaaaaaaaasssssseeeee." It was so sore. "Stoooooooop." Gritting her teeth, fearing him mutilating her precious nipple, she clenched her fists and lay voluntarily paralyzed. Her toes curling, her legs rigid. Beautiful face in a rictus of agony, but he didn't see. He only had eyes for the needle, sinking into her tough nipple.

He slowly pushed the needle through the rubbery flesh until it speared out the other side with a single drop of blood, and then another. It ran red down the side of her breast like the clear tears were running down the side of her face. The pain, the blood, the moment, overwhelmed her and she fainted like earlier, but not because he caused it physically, but because the emotional trauma of the ordeal became too much. But he was not content to let her exit and waited until she regained consciousness a couple of minutes later, looking up at him like a frightened mouse about to be devoured by a ruthless predator.

He then wriggled and twisted the needle, pulling her breast up into a cone, shooting daggers of pain into her chest. A quick dab of the spirits to disinfect, before replacing needle with the ring, which he clasped closed.

Leaning down and first kissing the pierced nipple before licking the blood from her breast and the tears from her cheeks he whispered, "See that wasn't so bad, was it?"

She couldn't answer. Lying there, the burning pain becoming a dull ache, feeling that her body had been desecrated. But with her consent, even if it had been coerced from her under threat. She had participated and not resisted. Was there a small part of her that wanted this, yearned for it, like she craved his attention and intimacy. The feelings were all too much and her brain too immature to process it all, to cope with the complexity of emotions he had unleashed in her psyche.

"You also wanted a belly-button ring, if I remember correctly." He said cheerfully. "We'll also get that today. But in exchange, I want to put this in your other nipple." Picking up a matching nipple ring, accompanied by her sobs of despair.

++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++++

Chapter 7 - Acquisitions

The sign over the shop entrance read 'Jimmy's Studs and Tats'. After experiencing two home piercings, she was less inclined to carry through with her earlier desire, but he had dragged her here regardless, saying cryptically "A promise is a promise." It was not clear to her whether it was his promise to her or vice versa, that resulted in her reluctantly entering the piercing and tattoo parlour.

After her second delicate nub had been so ruthlessly pierced, he had complimented her about how beautiful they looked and how brave she had been, all the while holding her and stroking her hair, while she sobbed out her pain and grief. She slowly melted into him, recovering her composure, despite the continued stinging reminder at the tips of her breasts.

He cajoled her into dressing in a pretty Indian cotton floral sundress with wedge sandals, making her look just like any other late-teen, even though she felt she had nothing in common with most other girls her age. This time, he let her wear a tiny tight white thong but no bra, which suited her as she didn't want anything aggravating her sensitive nips. She was relieved to see that the rings didn't show through the loose cotton, but she couldn't get used to the way that they kept her nipples permanently hard and aroused through the incessant stimulation and throbbing.

When she had first met him, she had dressed quite dowdily, almost tom-boyish, trying not to be noticed by anyone. She preferred to avoid personal interactions with other people, to focus on her life's passion, which was reading books. Or rather literature, as she called it with all the seriousness that a teenager could muster. Most of her interactions were relatively anonymous internet chats, where she felt shielded from the risks that physical interactions posed.

Over time, he had encouraged her to dress more girly, more adult, in tighter clothes that showed more leg or skin. He urged her to buy online, using the money he loaded onto the e-wallet, but only after he had approved of them.

A year earlier, she would never have been seen dead in a short sundress that revealed her slim legs, arms and shoulders. But she had put it on without thinking, as she had the sexy underwear that had replaced the sensible panties that she used to wear. That too was a long-term process of grooming, encouraging her to dress like a woman, showing her pictures of beautiful women in revealing sexy lingerie to desensitise her. It wasn't long before she willingly performed modelling shows for him, wearing her most recent purchases and playing with herself for his entertainment.