The Little Redhead Ch. 03

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The redhead learns to fight back.
3.2k words
4.2
24k
2

Part 3 of the 7 part series

Updated 10/28/2022
Created 05/30/2009
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**** Warning: this chapter contains graphic violence. Please skip to C4 if not your thing. ****

*

The man, still smiling and holding the whip just watches me lying on the floor sobbing for a moment. As I try to stop crying, I remind myself that I have to be very smart in order to get through this night. He's rented me for only one night. I can do this.

I tell myself, His name is 'Sir'. Think of his name as 'Sir'. It will make it easier to remember to say it.

He (Sir!) tells me, "Stop that. Get on the bed." I try to stop crying and get off the floor. He says, "Well, go clean your face first." I clean up in the bathroom and lay down on the bed.

He comes towards me with the whip, then seems to think better of it and goes back to the cabinet. He sets down the whip and looks around for a second or two. Then he takes out four tiny collars. He comes to the bed, directs me to lay on my stomach, then puts the collars on my wrists and ankles. He gets some chains with hooks and attaches one to each collar. He hooks the chains leading from my arms onto the headboard, high up and far apart. He does the same with my ankles on the baseboard so that I'm kind of hanging with most of my weight on my lower torso. This makes it slightly hard to breath.

My instinct is to immediately start pulling at the restraints, but I force myself to remain still.

The man retrieves the large whip and stands next to the bed. I tell myself that I don't think he can kill me with it, and if he breaks the skin, the monitors will stop him and this will be over. Knowing it's going to hurt, but telling myself it won't be too bad, I steel myself for the first lash. I tell myself that no matter how much it hurts, I must not move, must not speak. My life may depend on it.

He raises the whip high and brings it down across my shoulder blades. The pain is unbelievable. I've never felt anything like it. I tense every muscle in my body and clench my teeth to prevent myself from struggling or screaming. Surely he must have broken the skin! I hope to hear the monitors come into the room, but they don't. I know another lash is coming and it does. He whips me again and again, moving down my back.

Tears start running down my face. I clench my teeth harder, willing myself with all my might not to make a sound. But as he moves down my back, he whips harder and harder. I thought the first few lashes were painful, but realize now he was holding back at first. I can't help myself and start to scream with each new lash of the whip, but manage to remain motionless for the most part. I am certain that I must be bleeding everywhere, but the monitors still don't come.

He ('Sir', I remind myself) starts to pant. With the next lash, he screams with me, startling me, an animal scream of rage, "Ahhh!!!" I lose my self-control and start pulling and struggling to get away. I hear a beeping sound.

He stops and inhales deeply. He holds his breath, and steps back from the bed for a moment. He exhales shudderingly and moves towards me again. He whips me a few more times, until he reaches my ass, but the lashes are not nearly as severe. I realize the monitors were warning him that he was getting out of control, in danger of really injuring me.

He puts the whip away and kneels on the bed between my legs. He leans over me and rubs his finger lightly but very painfully across the highest-most welt on my back. "Does it hurt?" he asks.

I almost say, "Yes, sir", but remember not to speak. I nod instead, rather vigorously.

He says, "You may speak."

"Yes, sir. It hurts, sir." It comes out as a whisper.

He does the same thing, asking the same question, sounding more and more angry, with the next welt down and the next, moving down my back. After a few more times, he says between gritted teeth, "Good." Suddenly, he screams in rage again and pounds both fists onto my ass cheeks. He leans forward, reaches around me, grabs both tits, and squeezes brutally. He lies on my back and bites me between the shoulder blades.

The pain from the bite on my welted back is tremendous. My body, already arched back from the restraints, arches more, and I scream again. For a moment, I barely register the beeping. Then he stops biting me and rests heavily on my back. Again, it's impossible to believe he didn't break the skin, but he must not have. I can't believe he bit me! He really is crazy, I think. And I know that he had been very, very close to losing all control before the warning was issued.

I realize now that I was wrong. He has, he can, and he is going to hurt me terribly, even though he's not allowed to really injure me. I know I am going to feel more pain tonight than I've ever felt before and it's just going to go on for hours. I start to tremble.

I sense that he is unsure what to do next. He is still gripping my tits. As he lies on my back, I think furiously. I review everything that's happened, everything the attendant said, everything I know about this man.

The attendant who brought me here had said that I "fit the description the closest." Okay, he didn't just want a tiny redhead with a particular look. 'Description' implies a description of a particular person. This man was searching for a look-alike and hired these people to find him one and to make sure she was 'clean'. I recall that the tiny woman with the huge tits in the auction room was a redhead. Picturing her face in my mind, I realize that we could have been sisters.

He wants a look-alike to take his rage out on in a place that will allow him to do so, at least to some extent. The only thing I can think of that would cause such rage is betrayal. It was a wife that cheated on him. That must be it! He wants to punish me for what his wife did. I realize, too, that he is somewhat insane. He doesn't just think I look like her, some part of him thinks I really AM her.

Okay, I tell myself, the reason for the anger is jealousy and the reason for jealousy is sex. He had sex with this woman. I realize how I might prevent him from hurting me too badly. The sex aspect of this set-up is just a veneer at the moment, but I have to try my best to turn this into a real sexual encounter. Somehow, I have to turn his mind away from his rage and his desire to hurt me and make him just want to fuck me.

But how? I can't move and I can't speak, and even if I could, I wouldn't really know what might arouse him. And, in my position, I can't really see his face, in order to read his reactions.

I decide I have to try something, though. As I've been thinking, he's moved so that he is not pressed so heavily against me. I start moving my torso side to side, just very slightly, in order to move my tits around within his hands. I know he can't really feel them with the gloves, but I hope he will like it anyway.

He asks, "Did I tell you to move?" I shake me head and stop moving and tense for a blow. I kick myself mentally. This was a mistake.

The blow doesn't come. Instead, he walks to the cabinet, and pauses to think. He takes some nipple clamps out of the cabinet. Pulling my hair to raise me off the bed slightly, he clamps them to my sore nipples. They aren't like the ones in the auction room. They are simple spring clamps with a small chain between.

He releases my hair. He grabs my tits again and says, "NOW move. Like you were before." I move like before, rubbing my tits against his gloved hands, but now with the clamps on, it's torture. My body wants very badly to stop moving, to stop causing myself this pain, but I continue as ordered, although very jerkily, fighting against my strong desire to stop.

He tells me, "Keep doing that." He releases my tits, and I continue moving them against the bed. He pauses for a moment, then reaches around, slides his hand under me, and starts yanking again and again on the chain. It feels like he's going to rip my nipples right off!

"Does it hurt?" he asks like before.

I nod vigorously again.

"Good."

Well, this is no good, I think. I got him interested in my tits alright, but only enough to torture me with them. I realize that I can't just entice him with a little jiggle of my tits. Thinking frantically, I recall that he did start out by licking my pussy and he seemed to like it. He liked it that I was aroused. He didn't really start hurting me until I refused to go down on him. I remembered him rubbing his hands up and down my wet inner thighs then and in the auction room.

I decide that I have to somehow make myself aroused. That I can't do this just by trying to arouse him directly. And I also know instinctually that I can't fool this man and pretend anything with him. He may be insane, but he's also perceptive and more than a little intelligent.

I decide I have to try to like what he's doing to me -- to turn a torturous act into a sexual one. And I have to do it fast.

I search my mind desperately and frantically for a way to like the pain of rubbing my clamped nipples on the bed and to like the yanking on the chain. I make myself remember how aroused I became in the auction room, how good the nipple clamps came to feel to me then, despite, no BECAUSE OF, the pain. I also try picturing myself with the nipple clamps on, to imagine a man (maybe my ex-husband), becoming aroused by seeing me with the nipple clamps on.

The pain in my nipples is far greater than in the auction room, but I feel it starting to work. I start to become aroused again, and the incredible pain in my nipples actually does start to feel good. I can feel my movements becoming more and more sensual as I start enjoying the pain. And it's working! I can tell by his breath that he senses the difference and is reacting to it.

He stops pulling on the chain and reaches around again to grab my tits, squeezing and kneading them and in the process, grinding my nipples around. I keep moving as much as possible. This actually hurts more than the pulling of the chain, but I feel victorious, because I recognize that he's reacting to me now, rather than just trying to hurt me.

He drags his hands down my back. The dragging across my welts is very painful, but I remind myself it is a sensual movement to him. In order to increase my arousal, I picture him reacting to me, looking at me, and wanting me. I don't have to force myself to keep rubbing my nipples against the bed. I want to keep doing it now.

Without warning, he penetrates me with two gloved fingers. He starts fucking me with his hand. At first, I want to beg him to stop. Then I make myself think about what he's doing, making myself like the kinkiness of being fucked by a gloved hand. He's not hurting me much, and I start liking it more and more. I start wanting to move my hips. I decide to take a chance and do so, almost imperceptibly, although it's a little difficult in the position I'm in.

As before, he asks, "Did I tell you to move?" I shake my head and stop moving my hips, but remember to continue rubbing my tits on the bed.

He sticks a finger into my ass, quickly and deeply. I inhale sharply from the pain and the surprise and stop moving altogether. I've never had anyone put anything into me there before. I'm quite simply appalled. It hurts only slightly, but feels very strange. I feel light-headed and slightly queasy. I don't even know what to make of the sensation. My mind refuses to process it. He starts fucking me with his hand again, this time in the ass as well.

"Now move, like you did before." I don't know for sure if he means my torso or my hips or both. I guess my hips, so I start rotating them awkwardly. I tell myself sharply that I have to get back into this! I try to ignore the sensation in my ass and focus on his fingers in my pussy. It's no good, though. The two sensations are too tightly coupled. Okay, I have to find a way to like this, too. Quickly!

I focus in on the sensation of his finger going in and out of my anus, forcing my mind to make sense of it. I remind myself that it doesn't really hurt, not much at all. It feels a little like being fucked in the pussy, but in some way also very different.

I think about the fact of the two sensations being so close to each other, entangled together somehow. I realize that the sensation in my ass is increasing the sensation in my pussy. I realize abruptly that I could like this, or at least not mind it, even though I think it's kind of disgusting. Finding my way through this to some extent, and finding my arousal increasing again, my hips start to move more naturally and more quickly. I find myself trying to thrust against his fingers, wanting him to go a little deeper.

I've been listening to his breath coming faster and faster. I realize my plan is working. He suddenly stops fucking me and pulls his fingers out. I feel kind of hollow and bereft. I moan just slightly and whisper, "Please don't stop, sir," and immediately think, Oh shit! I said that out loud!

He removes the wet glove from his hand and throws it in a little trash bucket. Without looking at me and without expression, he says, "You are a slow learner." He goes to the cabinet, looks around, and picks out a very thick, funny-looking dildo with a flat bottom.

At the moment, I think it would feel good for him to put that in my pussy. It's very thick, which is scary, but it's not long enough to hurt me. But then realize with horror that he's pushing it against my anus with one hand. From the corner of my eye, I see his arm swing back and then forward like he's about to spank me. He crashes his hand on the bottom of the dildo, slamming it into me. I feel my eyes roll back into my head for a second and I bite my tongue. I feel like I'm being turned inside out. I feel in shock and can hardly breath now.

He lies down on my back and forces his cock into my pussy. I'm small to begin with, he's big, and the dildo is making me even smaller, so he has to really struggle to get it in. I'm beyond being able to even recognize my own body's sensations right now. I just lay there for a few moments, completely limp, as he starts thrusting.

I start to feel happy, though, because I realize I've won the battle, if not the war. He's just going to fuck me for a while now. I did it! He's forgotten about wanting to hurt me.

With each thrust, my breasts are forced forward and back, grinding my clamped nipples on the bed, as pleasurably as before. Because of the angle, he can't penetrate me as deeply as he might, so he's not hurting me. Also because of the angle, my clit is rubbing on the bed.

Incredible sensations seem to be coming from everywhere -- my nipples, my clit, my pussy, my ass. I feel completely filled with sensation, like I never have before. I know that if it continues, I am going to cum and soon. Against my own will, I start to moan very quietly. I'm afraid that he will punish me for it, but instead he just starts thrusting harder and faster, making me moan even more. I can't believe how turned on I am. I feel as if the entire room is moaning with me.

My eyes roll back again and I cum, tensing every muscle in my body, my pussy and ass clamping down on his cock and the dildo. His thrusting gets harder and faster and he starts panting. When I'm done, I shudder slightly, sigh, and go limp. I hear a sharp intake of breath. "What did you just do?" he asks.

I don't answer. He hasn't told me to speak.

I can tell he's angry, but I don't understand why. He didn't mind that I was turned on, so why be angry that I came? I would have thought he would like it. What did I do wrong? I simply can not understand. And I realize I'm in trouble.

He pulls out and releases my arms and legs, which flop down onto the bed. He flips me over, glaring at me. He kneels at the bottom of the bed and pulls me towards him by my ankles. He grabs my thighs and pulls my hips up onto him.

He sticks his cock into me, brutally pushing past the restriction caused by the dildo, and starts thrusting. He pulls me towards him by the hips with each thrust as if I weighed nothing. This angle is different and he's able to penetrate much deeper. Every thrust is an agony. The end of his cock is hitting something inside me. I feel as if I'm being punched deep inside over and over.

I start to cry out with each thrust. Then I just start saying, "No. No. No No." He doesn't stop me. I start to feel light-headed and queasy again, more so than before. I eventually become too weak to cry out or speak. Will he never stop? Everything starts to get very bright. I realize I'm about to lose consciousness, and then I do.

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AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
great story

this story is great for a fictional story. I check for your new stories daily. I hope u keep writing.

AnonymousAnonymousalmost 15 years ago
Another tale for and by a pathetic wimp with

a dinky little dickey to go with and equally dinky brain--For the same

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