The Power of Force and Pain

I was now in a terrible state. Bound and blindfolded, my arms stretched up above my head, my legs pulled apart, my tits so exposed and my pussy open and available, I had lost the fight. I had probably also lost the will, the slim inhibitions I may have had, any slight control that existed when I could see and wasn't restricted and, mostly, my dignity. None of that was left. How could it be when I was bound to a table wearing just a ripped and torn, cheap, cotton blouse with my 'schoolgirl' skirt bunched round my waist? How could I retain any of that wearing my hold up stockings, my legs spread wide my tits and pussy exposed to the two policeman's leering lascivious gazes? How could I retain any, in fact how I could have any when I had 'let' them hurt me, undress me, squeeze, pinch, pull, suck and bite my flesh, leaving vicious, red marks all over me? How could I when I had been fingered and sucked my a total stranger? How could I have any dignity when I had responded so obviously, almost enthusiastically to Trev's surrogate cock? But most of all, how could I have even a scrap of dignity when I was starting to cum as they flicked at my clitoris and pinched my tits and nipples so hard.

I knew that really was the behaviour of a complete slut.

Suddenly I had a rush of hope. One of them was undoing the ropes on my legs.

It was obviously Matt, for Trev said.

"That's right get them undone."

It was quite a relief to feel the tightness of the ropes round my ankles released, I hadn't realised just how much they hurt until they were undone, but then I had been receiving far more and different pain to what they were causing. I saw then, that by having a more extreme pain the lesser ones fade into the background, an interesting observation, I thought as my hopes of release were shattered.

"It'll be best if we hold them like this," Trev said as one of them pulled both of my ankles upwards as the other roughly pulled my skirt off. He continued pulling until I was bent at ninety degrees at the hips. My legs were up in the air. He, or maybe they, then bent me at the knees so that the front of my legs was pressed against my breasts.

"Oh no," I couldn't stop myself saying as I felt the ropes being wrapped round me again.

"Shut the fuck up," Matt said as one of them pulled my right nipple very hard and, presumably, the other, who I guessed was Trev, slapped me across the back of my thighs catching the lips of my pussy. Both hurt like hell.

"Sorry," I whimpered as the ropes were tightened.

It was hard to know precisely what they were doing and just how the thin, quite smooth, several ply, almost white rope was wrapped round me. It felt as though they had looped it round each leg just above my knees and tied it there. From there it went right round my body. They had pulled it tight just beneath, thankfully not across, each breast and round my back. I couldn't work out much of the rest of where it went, but it was curled back across my chest just above my boobs, well actually slightly on the swell of each one. Another rope was tied round both my ankles and that was pulled tight so that my legs were straight, my feet pointing towards the ceiling. They secured both ropes somewhere, for when they stopped the tying, I couldn't move.

"There that's what you do with sluts Matt, hogtie them, the fucking bitch can't get out of that, come on let's have a drink."

"No, please don't leave me," I begged thinking they were going out. Of course I was punished for speaking and they both, I think, slapped the back of my thighs, my bum, my pussy lips and my tits. It hurt, my flesh was stinging, but somehow, someway, it was becoming more bearable. From my breasts to my clit I could feel heat. A sort and level I had never experienced before. That was accompanied by a tingling all over my body. I couldn't understand quite what the feelings were, but then I had never experienced anything like them before.

They fortunately didn't go out and I heard them talking, about work for fuck's sake as they sat on the sofa.

My situation was as hopeless as my position was demeaning.

I had gone too far in letting Matt take me down the path of pain and force. A hidden side of him had emerged, which was too extreme for me. Mentally and physically I couldn't handle this degree of pain, force and humiliation. It was just emotionally too draining and bodily it hurt me too much. I vowed never to get involved in the like again. That is if I got out of this ok.

And this, of course, really was a dire, hopeless and simply totally degrading situation.

Still with the blouse around my arms and my lacy-topped holdups in place I was on my back trussed up. I had ropes securing me and cutting into my flesh. My breasts were bare and my bum was just on the edge of the table, I knew that my vagina and my anus were totally exposed and readily available.

"Ok, let's do her, ready mate?" Trev said.

"Yep, my slut needs it. Come on."

Chapter 8

One pair of hands grabbed my breasts, another my thighs. Neither were hurting me. Those on my boobs were caressing and squeezing, quite pleasantly I suddenly realised with a feeling of enormous annoyance at the frailty of my bodily resistance to sexual stimulation. Those on my thighs moved round to the front of my legs and gripped me just by my groin where my legs formed a near ninety degree angle to my tummy. One hand left my right leg; the other pulled me, moving me nearer to the edge of the table. I quickly worked out why one of the hands had left me. It was obviously holding the cock which was nuzzling at the lips of my pussy. The hand was moving the cock. It was rubbing the head of it up and down my crease, onto and around my clit then all the way back and between the cheeks of my bum right onto my anal hole.

The other hands were rubbing my breasts, pushing them together and pinching and squeezing my flesh.

The two pairs of hands changed round, but the new ones continued in the same way.

"Is it nice, slut?" Matt or it may have been Trev asked.

I didn't reply, I didn't dare and I didn't want to.

"You can speak you stupid fucking cow." That was Trev I was sure. "Is it nice, do you like it?"

It took all I had to speak, I felt awful, guilty and so ashamed when I whimpered.

"Yes."

They continued, but were now using their mouths, lips and teeth on me as well. On my tits, my nipples, my neck, my stomach, my thighs, my bum and, of course my lips and clit. I just didn't dare even think of the red marks that would confront me when the blindfold was removed.

"Louder," one of them said. "Say it louder."

"Yes," I said.

"Say more," I was ordered with a slap on my lips and hard pinch on my breast.

"Yes, it's nice," I said in a normal voice, absolutely hating myself.

Admitting that it was nice was awful, but not as terrible as what was now happening.

It can't be real. This just can't be happening. It's impossible, I was telling myself. But I knew I was trying to kid myself for it was real, it was happening. I was becoming aroused.

I tried so hard to stop it, counting backwards from one hundred, putting my mind on other things, even thinking of England. None worked. As my breasts were squeezed and pinched, so I could feel little tremors and the heat increased. As again someone's cock was rubbed all over my pussy and bum I started tingling all over my body. Even the stinging, the aches and the pains were changing. They seemed to be fusing with these new feelings. My body was becoming a seething cauldron of sexual arousal and pain, no not pain, warmth, I don't know what the fuck it was, but I was starting to orgasm.

I also started to cry. The shame, the guilt, the remorse and the concerns got to me.

Their responses, far from now being upsetting seemed to be appropriate for the situation and my mood

"Look the fucking slags starting to cum."

"You can see her cunt quivering."

"See her fucking nipples, they're like bullets."

"So slut cunt is it nice?"

"Yes," I moaned.

"You want more?"

"Yes," I moaned again, scared to say no and concerned that I had to say yes.

"What do you want slag?"

"More."

"More what?"

"On my pussy"

"Don't call it that tarts name," the one who was running his cock all over me said.

"Call it by its proper name. It's your cunt, you cunt," Trev said giggling rather drunkenly.

"On my cunt," I said enjoying the word slipping from my mouth.

"What do you want on your cunt?"

I had now had it. I was gone, finished, completed and done in. I had lost every shred of dignity and female respectability, even my pride was now so severely dented as to be as good as non existent. I had become the slut they called me. My entire being lying trussed up on that table as good as naked could focus on just one thing, my own sexual pleasure.

"I want a cock," I groaned.

"Where do you want a cock?"

"I want in me."

"Where in you?"

"In my cunt, I want a cock up my cunt."

"And what do you want that cock to do?"

I had now lost it. I was panting, my head was rolling from side to side and I was thrusting with my hips. I was fucking air and cumming in front of these two perverts and I didn't care.

A couple of hard slaps made me remember to answer the question.

"I want it to fuck me?"

"Beg us."

"Please, please," I whined pretty much meaning it when I added. "Please fuck me, please make me cum."

Oddly. I never found out who fucked me.