How to Break a Man Pt. 05

"Stop-" Kick.

"Please, stop-" Another kick.

"Damn it, stop! Stop!" Kick, kick, kick.

One of the blows hit the back of his knee and he dropped down to all fours on the spot. He dropped and covered up, placing his hands on the back of his head like he was in the middle of an earthquake, and closed his eyes shut tight. "Mercy, mercy! Stop, please, you win, I'll do whatever you want, I'll, I'll-"

His blubbering came to a stop as Lola placed her foot down on the back of his head and pressed down. Not with enough force to hurt, but enough to keep him in place. To control him. She didn't tell him to be quiet, and she didn't have to. He just knew.

"Tae Kwon Do classes." She managed a satisfied laugh through all her heavy breathing. "Worth every penny."

Steven stayed there, unmoving and unspeaking, as she brought her foot away and let it come to rest just in front of his face. Her toes, clean and prim with their black nail polish, inched closer to his lips and wiggled. So close he could smell the faint sweat off them.

She let that silence linger for a few more moments, before she broke it with a chuckle and a whisper. "You're a smart guy, Steven, you always were. Figure this out." She tilted her foot up, brushing against her chin. "What comes next? What do I want you to do, here? You know."

He did. He had to work up to it, sure, licking his lips and swallowing his spit along with her pride. But when that passed, he puckered up, leaned forward, and gave Lola exactly what she wanted.

Kisses. Soft, tender kisses. He was taken aback by his own lips at first, shocked that they went to the task so well, without a hint of resistance on his part. Then again, this was far from the worst part of the human body he'd had to put his mouth to in the past week.There was something natural to it, something that fit, and he found himself falling into it with every peck.

He wasn't the only one having a reaction, either. Lola hummed along, this rumbling moan, as he went about his work, mixing in the occasional sigh. "Mix it up. Let's see if that tongue of yours is still any good."

And so he went to licking. Running his tongue along the sides of her feet, dipping between the toes, exploring the crevices, being thorough - if he was going to give her a tongue bath, he might as well do it right, and the last thing he wanted was for her to get bored and go back to battering him. Aside from the sharp tang of her perspiration, the taste wasn't even that bad. There was a faint taste of strawberry, as if she'd rubbed her body over with some sort of gel, this fruity scent that hung in the air and tickled his nose.

"Good boy." She brought her other foot up and patted the back of his head. "What do you say?"

"Thank you."

The response came out without him thinking, but it felt natural. A reflex. He showed her respect, she gave him mercy. It was an even exchange. He kept lapping, he kept her pleased, and she spent the rest of her time enjoying his time and not kicking him back and forth. Steven even showed some improvement at the job, running along the veins of her feet and tickling her nerves. He'd never been one for a foot fetish, but he couldn't deny the effects here, as his dick hardened in the metal tube and strained against it.

"Heads up, Steven." Lola lifted her foot up and made his chin rise along with it, forcing his lulled gaze upwards. She stood there, arms folded, with this satisfied grin across her face, just taking in the sight of him on his knees. Cowering, beaten, wrecked. He was a painting she could've stared at all day.

But she didn't have that kind of time. The door creaked open, and some woman with a gruff, Australian accent spoke from the other side. "Are you done in there, Lola? Don't have too much fun, now."

Lola gave him a soft tap on the forehead with the bottom of her heel, then pivoted about and sauntered her way to the door. "Yeah, I'm done. I left plenty for you to play with. Don't worry."

Steven was already crawling his way back to the center of the room when the door opened wide and his next torturer made her way in. His eyes were bleary, watering up from the sweat and maybe a few tears, and he could only see her frame at first. That was enough for him to know who it was, though. '

Or who they were, rather. This time, two came in the room. Bettie Beaumont and Susanne Graves, his first ever threesome, how could he ever forget?

It was a mark of pride for him, but it hadn't been the easiest thing to set up. It helped that he knew them both in high school, two cheerleaders that he'd dated and left on good terms with. Friends all around. So when he hooked back up with them in college at a frat party, he already had his foot in the door. He just had to get them into a more pliable mood, and adding certain chemicals to their punch was the perfect way to do just that.

It made for a good night. Even if they didn't remember most of it.

Bettie was lanky and lean, this thin waif of a woman with wispy blonde hair. She'd always had a weight thing back in high school, wanting to keep her figure and going way overboard, and it seemed like time hadn't changed that much about her. Susanne was shorter, about a head below Bettie, but more developed to make up for it. Top tier tits and her ass was still the sweet peach he'd spent a good chunk of his high school years staring at.

Susanne's hair was shorter, cut to her shoulders instead of the long length he'd loved to run his fingers through. Bettie had these piercings along her ears, had some black streaks running through her hair, looked like she was going through a goth phase she was way too old for. But other than that? Almost exactly like he recalled.

Except for all the bondage gear they were wearing. That was new.

Both of them were decked out in full fetish wear. Boots. Fishnets. Collars. Susanne wore a tight corset bodice that made her impressive chest even more so, hugging her figure and accentuating her waist. Bettie's was wrapped head from the chest down in a leather catsuit, wrapping her up like a sword it is sheathe and leaving her shoulders exposed.

What struck him the most, though, was what they had in their hands. Susanne brandished a long whip, coiled right around her fist. That was a distressing enough sight, but not as worrying as the short, black rod in Susanne's hand, a strange object with a metal tip. He at least knew what the whip was for, but he couldn't say the same for whatever that was.

Susanne closed the door behind them, and they stood there, watching, waiting, with faces as animated as stones. An awkward silence settled the room, as if they expected some kind of response. Confused, he rose up with his hands raised, cautious and careful as he glanced between them.

Bettie's face flickered, the slightest furrow of her brow, and that was all the warning he received before she pressed a button on the rod, pressed the tip against his chest, and jump started his body with a jolt of electricity. He cried out as the sparks flew, then fell over flat on his back, squirming there until she gave him another shock a moment later.

"You don't move unless you're told to move." She walked around Steven and reached down to zap his chest, forcing him to writhe over to his side. "You don't speak unless spoken to." She gave him two successive shocks on the back, one up high and one just above his butt. He was shrieking now, a piercing sound with every touch. "You'll do exactly as we say, or we'll make this all hurt far more than it needs to. Do you understand?" She drove the prod down hard on his neck and held it there for a moment, letting it sear his skin before she pulled away. "Do. You. Understand?"

"Yes! Yes!" He was on his chest now, and he could see Bettie raising the prod again, preparing to drive it down hard. "Yes, mistresses! I understand!"

He guessed those were the magic words, and his gamble seemed to pay off - she held back, kept it only a few perilous inches from his body, but spared him the shock. He laid there, breathing hard, as Susanne came over and poked him in the side with her heel, making him wince as she scratched against the bone.

"Sit up. Up on your knees."

He'd always known Susanne as a sweet girl, far too nice for her own, good with this light, angelic voice that soothed the ear. There was none of that comfort as she spoke, now, only this iron, unwavering tone that didn't give any room for dissent. He pushed his way up without hesitation, doing his best to ignore his sizzling skin as he rose.

His heart raced as he straightened up, watching as they stood before him, looking down on him in judgment. He tried to raise his eyes to meet theirs, but something forced him to stare at the floor, as if his head was being forced by some unseen power. Steven couldn't put his fingers on it, but the result was undeniable - as was the reaction. Growing stiff again.

He clamped his legs, an attempt to subtly hide his rising member, but he didn't have any illusions of it being successful. For now, though, they kept silent on it, as Susanne unfurled her whip and let it slither along the floor while she walked. "It's been a while, hasn't it? Do you remember us?"

"Yes." There was a glint in Bettie's eye, she gripped the rod tight, but Steven was quicker on the draw. "Yes, ma'am, yes, mistress!"

Susanne moved behind him and flicked the whip against his backside, a lazy stroke that made him jump all the same. "Good recovery. Smart boy." She ran her fingers through his hair and ruffled it up, before she moved over to his side, just in the periphery of his view. "Do you remember what you did to us? Do you know why you're here?"

Steven opened his mouth to answer, but nothing came out at first. It wasn't as if Diana had held back when it came to the causes for all this, he could imagine why they were pissed. Vocalizing it, though...

He hesitated. Just for two, maybe three seconds. Not long at all, but far too long for Susanne.

She raised the bullwhip up, whirled it around her head in a single fluid motion, stepped back for some distance, then brought it down all at once in a biting lashing across his back, leaving a hot red trail in its wake. Steven arched up with an inhuman squeal, then sagged forward, only for Bettie to kick him in the chest and right him once again. "Stay. Straight." She gave him a kick in the stomach to go along with it, and he was only able to keep from doubling over through either sheer will or craven fear.

"Answer the question, Steven." Susanne struck out once more, this time with a biting strike to his shoulder that left him trembling.

"The threesome, I'm sorry, I'm sorry for blowing you both off after that, that's on me, I'm-" His blistering blubbering came to an end when Cathrine's whip sliced across his ass, hitting right down the middle. He jumped forward, only for Bettie to plant the prod in his chest and jolt him back with a harsh shock. "Fuck! Fuck!"

"That is not the full answer, Steven." The floor was soft, but even so, he could feel the vibrations of Susanne's heavy footfalls behind him. She was pacing, moving about, looking to get the right distance before she struck next.

He turned his head to get a better view, hoping to be ready for what came next, but Bettie put him right again with a backhand on the cheek. She gripped his chin tight to keep him from reeling, and forced him to look up her way, holding him with a tight grip. "Eyes forward. Look at me."

Steven did, peering up her way as their gazes met. There was something haunting about the way Bettie stared at him, something that made his vision locked. She'd always had the most beautiful eyes, these dark blue pools that seemed to glow in the dark, but they'd frozen over since he last saw her. They were harder, crueler, fixed and unwavering, and now that she had him under her spell, he couldn't look away.

Another lash came crashing down on his spine, forcing him to jerk up, but grasped the sides of his face with both hands and gripped tight, digging her nails into his flesh. She didn't say anything else, content to hold him still while Susanne went about the work from behind.

"I'm sorry, I-" The whip snapped against his thigh and forced a sharp hiss out of his clenched teeth. "I drugged you! I'm sorry I drugged you, that's what I did, I'm sorry."

Steven tensed up, preparing for another strike, but this one never came. Instead, Susanne moved in behind him, coming close enough to run her fingernails along his shoulders. She slid them along his back, light at first, harder on the second pass, harder still with the third, as if she were testing his skin to see how much it could take before she broke through. He was already tender from the whipping, and this drove him further over the edge.

Break quickening, lip quivering, he started to cry out, before Bettie placed a single finger on his mouth to quiet him down. He clamped his mouth shut and his nose to handle all the breathing.

Susanne reached over and ran her claws along his chest, scraping deep on the muscles. "There. Doesn't that feel better? Admitting your faults, admitting what you've done wrong. Confession." Her fingers found his nipples and pinched them between his nails, pressing into them with a tight vise. It was an irritation at first, but it grew worse with each passing second, until it almost felt as if she'd lit them on fire, like she was threatening to pull them clean off.

Even so, he didn't move, didn't flinch, endured it. A good boy.

"Tell me," Susanne stopped piercing his nipples and went on to give his chest a gentle rub, caressing it with soft, soothing hands. "Why did you do it, Steven? One wasn't enough for you?"

"Because..." He faltered as Bettie's thumbs ran along his eyelids, threatening to push them in. "Because I wanted a threesome. You were both hot and I wanted to do it and-"

Bettie cut him off with a blast of spit in the face, spraying across everything from the nose up. "And you didn't care about us or what we wanted. You had to have your way."

"Yeah." There was no getting around the point, not right now. "Yes. I was a-"

Bettie tapped her palm across his face, leaving his cheek numbed. "A bastard?" She came down on the other cheek, harder now. "A pig?"

"Yes, yes, I was." The next slap was the hardest yet, but at least he was getting better at bracing for them. "I'm pathetic. I'm trash." He cupped his hands together and bent forward, an act of pure penitence. "Forgive me."

For the first time since she'd entered the room, Bettie smiled. Not even the cruel smile he'd grown used to from

Diana, but an honest one. The kind he'd loved back when they were dating, with her glittering teeth and her flaxen hair dancing about her face. She had this way of glowing, and right now, it was a welcome warmth.

Until she spoke. "No."

Susanne brought her whip around his neck, wrapped it all the way around, and pulled it back like a makeshift noose clamping tight on his throat. Restricting, squeezing, crushing his windpipe. He reached up to pry at the grip without thinking, only for Bettie to seize his wrists at the last second, holding them in place. He was stronger, despite the pounding he'd endured, he should've had no trouble wrenching his hands away and freeing his neck. It wouldn't have been hard. He could do it.

But he didn't.

He was frozen, transfixed by Bettie's spell, melting under her stare. He was a puppet, she had the strings, and the thought of going against her wouldn't register. Then there was Susanne, leaning in to whisper and nibble and lap at his ear. "Don't fight. Don't struggle. Just let it happen. Fade away."

He was fading. He'd grown so accustomed to getting knocked out in the past few days that the sensation was familiar to him, comforting in a strange way. Let the warmth come over you, let the lights turn out. It was like going to sleep. No big deal.

His arms went slack, his vision fluttered, and the last thing he recalled was Susanne's eyes shining through the haze, and the words that went along with them.

"You know you deserve this."

Steven didn't stay unconscious for long this time. In fact, he wasn't sure he completely went out in the first place. He fell, the world dissolved into a hazy mess, but he held onto a dim awareness of his surroundings, enough to hear others coming into the room. Multiple voices around him, arguing, talking back and forth.

"I'm going next, I got the least time-"

"Were you counting? I don't remember anyone counting."

"We shared him, that should count for something."

He could only pick up snippets of the conversation, but he didn't like the general direction it was going. More pain, more torture, and his body wasn't up for another round. He curled up into the fetal position and tensed up, as he took in shallow breaths. "Stop." He muttered the word at first, then found more strength to speak as life returned to him. "Just stop, enough. I'm sorry, I've learned my lesson, just...just stop."

He shut his eyes tight, fighting back the tears, but a few errant ones still made their way out. Steven wiped his bleary eyes clear, then opened them enough to see all the women surrounding him. All four of his torturers tonight along with Josie and Cynthia, covering every possible exit, their shadows coming at him from every angle. They'd all stripped down, putting their full bodies on display, and he couldn't ignore the twinge of excitement that the sight gave him. It was nothing compared to the overwhelming dread, though, as they peered him over in silent judgment.

They could crush him. They could stomp him into nothingness. "Just tell me what you want. Tell me how I can make it right."

The girls...no, the women looked among themselves, exchanging glances, having a silent conversation as he kneeled there, cowed and at their mercy. The wait was almost as bad as what he feared might come next, but he wasn't held in suspense for too long.

Amber made the first move, planting her foot in his chest and pushing him over with a rough shove. The circle opened up to give him space as he flopped flat on his back, looking up with the room's pale light shining straight down on him. She stepped over him before he could even think about sitting up, feet on both sides of his head, eclipsing the light and giving him the full view of her body. Every hill and valley, the smooth dunes on her chest and the endless plain along her stomach. More than anything, however, he was drawn to the dense forest between her legs, one that was drawing closer with each second as she came down to sit astride his face.

She placed her moist bush right on his lips, wiggled her hips, and settled in for a full sit. It was a position that would've revolted him weeks ago, but now it was familiar, now it was home. He knew what she wanted, and he didn't need to be told.

Amber told him, anyway. "Lick."

That was what Steven did, without a hint of hesitation. Licking, sucking, suckling, working her over while the other women stepped all over him. A couple of them pinned him down - not that needed to, but they seemed to just enjoy driving the point home. Some of them took turns playing with his balls, giving him the occasional kick to make him scream into Amber's crotch. One of them rode his abs like a surfboard, seeing how long he could endure the pressure while he struggled not to pass out.

Amber gripped him by the hair and rode him hard, grinding against his face to speed along her own climax, matching his own frenetic efforts with feverish humping and only giving him sporadic chances to breathe fresh air. It didn't take long for her to reach the peak, either, and she did so with a hoarse shriek, shuddering around his skull and plastering his face with the hot mess, letting it sink into his nostrils and slip past his lips.