The Little Redhead Ch. 05

The day after I finally lose control and come, I find myself hoping tonight isn't one of the rare nights my owner doesn't come to me. The night before, I was afraid at first he would punish me for coming, but he didn't. Now I almost can't wait for him to return. I am sick with myself for wanting him, but can't help it. I have nothing else to look forward to!

He comes unexpectedly during the day and says he has to lock me in my room for a little while and he gags me. He doesn't look angry, but his expression is hard, inscrutable. He barely looks at me. I'm locked up for two or three hours, wondering what's going on, getting scared. I hear sporadic, muffled noises that I can't interpret. He eventually unlocks my door and removes my gag. He shoves a bag full of clothes into my arms and tells me to start wearing them now. He leaves the apartment without another word.

I look in the bag and see it contains a few pieces of lingerie, much kinkier and sluttier than the little skirts and teddies he gave me before. I'm not even quite sure how to wear some of them.

I leave the bedroom and look around the apartment, trying to figure out what was going on. I don't see anything out of place. Finally, I try a door down the hall from my bedroom that's always been locked. It's not locked now. I open it, slowly, scared of what I'll see. I feel for the light switch and switch the light on. When I see what's inside, my heart sinks.

It's a large room. Everywhere I look, there is something frightening. There is a hook in the ceiling with chains hanging off of it. There is some kind of low table with V-shaped legs. There is a black circular platform on the floor with shackles attached to it forming a trapezoid. There is another smaller platform with two shackles on it and two above it hanging from the ceiling. It's just like the one I was on at the auction!

I see a cabinet like the one at the auction mansion. Almost shaking, I walk over and open it. It contains a set of whips, dildos, restraints, and other things I don't want to look it. I finger a large whip like the one he whipped me with at the auction, and quickly slam the door shut and back away from it.

I look around again. I see elements of the auction mansion here, and also know he must have been doing some research, probably looking on the internet. I go back to the door, turn off the light, and slam the door, breathing hard. I practically run back to my room and then sit on the bed, thinking.

I realize that I made a mistake last night. He is in the mood to start hurting me again. He got into using me as a sex toy for a while, and so did I. I thought he had calmed down, but the desire to hurt me is still very much present underneath. And I've brought it back out again by coming last night. I don't know why, but I did. Why did I allow myself to come?!

That evening, I pick out what seems to me to be the least kinky thing, a thong and a bra that just sits under my tits, pushing them up, but not covering the nipples. I've seen them before. Under different circumstances, I would love it. I look at myself in the mirror. It fits pretty well! For just a moment, I forget myself and stroke and tweak my nipples. Then I stop abruptly and look around, thinking of the possible cameras in the room.

After dressing, I find something to clean, as always, but as I'm cleaning, I'm thinking of what he might do to me tonight. I get more and more scared. I give up cleaning and try practicing my martial arts forms to calm myself, but after a few minutes, realize it's no use. Finally, shaking with fear, I try the main door again. I haven't bothered trying it in a long time. Not surprisingly, it's still locked.

Then I try to find somewhere in the apartment to hide. I know it's useless and will probably make things worse, but I can't stop myself. The apartment is very sparse and the only place I can find to hide is under the bed.

When he finally comes, I'm still on my stomach under the bed, willing myself to be invisible. I fail miserably at that. He finds me and orders me out. I shake my head. He reaches in, grabs an ankle, and drags me out by it. I flip over on my back and start slapping at his hands and kicking at him, saying "No! No! No!" This is the first time I've fought him since we got here. He finally grabs me by my hair and hauls me up, with me scratching and clawing at his hands.

He grabs me under one arm like a football and unceremoniously carries me down the hall, with me struggling and scratching at him. He ignores me. He brings me into the room and puts me on the platform with the four shackles. He has no trouble getting me on my back and restrained (he's more than twice my weight!), although I'm fighting with him the whole time. When he's done and I'm restrained, he just stands for a moment, both of us panting from the exertion.

I lay there, looking at him. He looks like a different man. As I was afraid of, he looks angry, like the brutal killer he appeared to be that first night.

Seeing this, what I most feared, I can't stop myself from pulling and struggling with all my strength against the restraints, knowing it's useless, but too scared to stop. He finally smacks me on one tit, and says, "Knock it off!" I force myself stop struggling, knowing as always that fighting is no use. I tell myself that I have to do what he says or it will just go worse for me. Get a hold of yourself, girl! You have to stop fighting!

He walks to the cabinet and takes out some nipple clamps, his favorite toy. But these are new ones. They're different. They have a screw in them. He straddles me and attaches one to a nipple. At first, I can barely feel it. After attaching it, he grabs my tit in one hand, and starts screwing the clamp tighter with the other.

He starts watching my face as he's doing this. The clamp becomes tighter and tighter, at first not hurting, then quickly becoming painful, worse than the clamps I'm quite used to. As he watches the pain showing on my face, he starts breathing a little harder.

He gets undressed and I see that he is rock hard. Things have changed dramatically. The first night, he enjoyed hurting me because of his rage towards me. It wasn't a sexual thing. After coming here, he used me roughly, almost, but not quite, punishing me and not even really seeming to enjoy it. Then he used me as a sex toy for a while, not really hurting me at all, and thoroughly enjoying it. Now, his rage has combined with his desire for me. Now, hurting me has become a sexual thing for him. I'm in big trouble! I wonder how it's possible for this shift to happen just because I came. There has to be something more to it!

I think, It's my fault! I'm the one who got this started, with the way I played things out the night of the auction. I'm the one who got him into this! It just took him a while to figure out he liked it, to get into it. It's my fault, I think again.

He straddles me again, attaches the other clamp, and screws it as tight as the first. Having both nipples clamped this way seems like more than twice the pain. I bite my lip to keep from begging him to take them off.

He walks to the cabinet and takes out the little whip with fringes. I'm very, very grateful that he didn't grab the bigger whip. It's the big whip I'm most afraid of. I doubt this little one will even hurt. This one will just tickle!

He holds the whip over my stomach and tells me to arch my back. I obey and arch my back, my tits pointing up at him.

Satisfied, he sets the whip down and reaches for my tits. Despite my warning to myself to stop fighting him, I cringe back, and flatten against the pedestal as much as possible, even knowing I can't get away from him. He keeps coming and grabs my tits. He jiggles them a bit, first one, then the other, then both, with the chain clanking in between. He looks at my face for a moment, then stands and leans over me.

He says calmly, "I told you to arch your back."

He whips me once with the whip, not really hurting me, but stinging a little. He grabs the chain between the clamps. He starts pulling upwards, very slowly. I arch my back more and more as he goes, raising myself up to match his movement. I can only arch so much, and when I can't go any further, he stops pulling.

"Stay there," he says.

He stands up, reaches above him, and grabs a chain that's attached to the ceiling and looped back on itself. He brings it down and attaches it to the chain on my clamps, holding it in place.

Now if I lay flat again, the clamps will pull brutally! Knowing I can't keep my back arched forever, anticipating the pain of laying flat, I moan a little. He really hasn't hurt me yet, but he's getting very creative, and I'm very afraid of what I'm going to go through tonight.

He stands and looks down at me, naked, spread-eagled, back arched, shackled and chained, frightened, and feeling more helpless than since I came here. He seems to like the sight. He's still rock-hard. He reaches towards me again. I cringe almost flat again for just a split second, making the clamps tugs painfully, and immediately arch my back again.

He grabs the whip and says, "KEEP it arched." He whips one of my tits, one of the little fringes lashing painfully on one of my nipples. I yelp. He seems to like this and raises the whip again. I can't help myself and cringe, again laying flat for just a second. I tell myself, Knock it off! Hold your position!

He says, "I SAID, keep it arched!" He whips my other tit, a few more of the fringes striking very painfully on my other nipple. Oohhh! That hurts! He's starting to breathe harder. He pauses and unhooks the chain from the ceiling. I'm very relieved. I think this means I'm allowed to lay flat now and do so with a small sigh.

He says, "I said, KEEP IT ARCHED!!!" I immediately arch my back again and he whips my tits four times, getting into a rhythm so the last two are more forceful, painful even when it doesn't hit a nipple. After the last strike, he drags the whip sensuously across my stomach back towards him. He's breathing heavily now.

He lays the whip down and lays on me, forcing me flat, and starts jiggling my tits again, rubbing his cheeks against them. He's usually not this interested in my tits, but seems to really like them tonight. He kneads them for a moment, his palm on my nipples making the clamps hurt worse. I moan and struggle against him, as much from the reminder of the auction night as from the pain. He looks up at my face to see my expression, seeing the fear and pain, seeming to relish it. I am really getting frightened and start to tear up.

He stops and gets off of me, kneeling next to me. As soon as he does, I remember to arch my back again. I tell myself, good girl! He didn't say I could stop doing it yet! He looks at me again for a moment then runs both hands up and down my body slowly.

He gets up and walks to the cabinet and takes out a butt-dildo and a regular dildo that is very thick and long. He walks towards me. He spits a few times on the butt-dildo, pulls my thong to the side, and rubs it around on my pussy. At least he's lubricating it! He starts to push it in. It's been a long time since he's used one and I'm not used to it anymore. It feels very strange to me. I instinctively try to pull away as he's pushing in, in the process flattening again. I mentally kick myself in several places as I arch again. Why can't I control myself tonight?! I know I can't get away from him!

He looks at me, his eyes telling me he's not going to let it go unpunished. He finishes putting the butt-dildo in and gets up.

Looking at me briefly, letting me know my punishment is coming, he grabs the regular dildo and walks back to the cabinet. He puts it away and gets the next largest dildo, bigger than his cock, and walks back to me, waggling it back and forth, knowing it will scare me. It's too big! I don't want that in me!

As he comes towards me with the big dildo, I can't help shifting from side to side to try to keep it away from my pussy, making little get-away-from-me sounds, "Mmm! Mmmm!" (I remember to keep my back arched, though!) He brings the dildo up and waggles it in front of my face and says, "Hold still." He smacks me painfully on one nipple with it. He spits on this a few times, too. That will help a little at least!

As he pulls my thong to the side and starts to put the thing in, I make myself hold still, whimpering more with fear of the thing than pain. He really has to push it, stretching me and hurting me. I start to pant. It's quite long, but thankfully he stops before he hurts me with its length. He looks at me when he stops, letting me know that he will go farther if I don't behave.

He stops and stands, just looking at me, still breathing hard, running his eyes over my face and up and down my body. He's obviously extremely, extremely aroused. I feel completely helpless in front of him, my clamped tits in the air, my back arched, and two dildos in me, one hanging half-way out. I feel more vulnerable and helpless than any time since I got here and strangely embarrassed. I suddenly have a strong desire to lie under several blankets with my head under the covers, curled up and safe. I want to get out of here! I surprise myself by letting out a little sob.

Still looking at me, he starts stroking himself with one hand, rolling his balls around in his other hand as he does. Almost right away, he seems to think of something better, stops and unshackles one of my wrists.

He stands next to the platform, one leg up on it, leaning forward, his cock just within my reach. He puts my hand on his cock, not needing to say anything. I start stroking him as he continues to play with his balls. I want to do it as quickly as possible, but it takes longer than usual. I know just exactly how he likes it, but my position and the need to keep my back arched makes it difficult to do it right. He's very, very aroused, but doesn't seem in a hurry to come.

He keeps running his eyes over me slowly, enjoying the site, occasionally throwing his head back for a moment, closing his eyes. I try desperately to make him come. My back is getting very tired. I can't keep it arched much longer and am afraid of him punishing me with the big dildo if I lay flat again.

I start thinking about going through this or other worse, unimaginable things, every night from now on. I start to cry a little, silently, thinking, I can't take this night after night! I just can't. I just can't!

In my mind I start chanting, breathing out heavily each time, "Please come. Please come. Please come. Please come." The rhythm of this or maybe my breathing seems to help my efforts and he suddenly pushes my hand away. He immediately straddles me and sticks his cock deep into my mouth, gagging me. He fucks my mouth, grunting with each quick thrust, and comes.