Bethany's Sins

Part 5

When Bethany awoke on the fourth day of her captivity, she found herself bare and exposed. Her blanket and sheet had been removed while she slept. She made to cover herself with her hands, but of course she was still cuffed to the sides of the bed and unable to make any movement at all to hide her nakedness. She was strapped down much as before, but now her ankles were pulled apart by separate cuffs. The straps across her shins and thighs were broader, too. She was spread wide for anyone who came in to see her most private areas. Panic overtook her, and she began twisting and turning against the straps across her body, futile though it was for all that happened was that they dug deeper into her flesh rather than achieving any sort of give at all in them. She was breathing rapidly and shallowly, her body giving in to the useless release of adrenaline.

The curtains around her bed were thrust aside.

Bethany wanted to melt into the thin mattress beneath her as the eyes of a doctor and Monsieur Herrault gazed at her in open clinical appraisal of what they saw.

"You say that she is well enough to be used now?" Herrault asked the doctor.

"I would say that, except that I believe that she should be given a few more days' rest to be sure that she can take such vigorous intercourse as you have been known to provide. She could not take the pounding of flesh so well, I think."

"That will be fine for what I have in mind today, doctor. Remember, I have seen first-hand how this woman reacts. Please, leave us so that I may renew our acquaintance undisturbed!"

Bethany whimpered as the doctor withdrew, closing the curtains behind the bounty hunter whom Bethany was now sure intended to fuck her literally within an inch of her life.

"Please, Sir, don't hurt me," she whined, and instantly regretted opening her mouth. His strong hand gripped her throat and her muscles spasmed against her bonds in a vain reflex to try to free herself from this threat to her life.

"Stupid sweet thing, what is my name?" Herrault growled.

Bethany swallowed, gasping for breath, wracking her brain for the right answer. Then she realised what she had done wrong, and that this was a test like all the others she had passed or failed before.

"Master..." she croaked, and instantly the pressure on her trachea was lifted. She heaved great lungfuls of air as Herrault gazed pitilessly into her face.

"And furthermore, if I want to hurt you I will, regardless of what you say. I have learned over the years that if you wish to please a woman, never listen to what she says she wants. Observe how she shows her true desires in her actions, and you will find the path to success.

"You wanted to be caught. This is obvious from the foolish and insane way in which you made your brazen exit from the DeMoeira offices. Therefore, I caught you. In punishing you for my employers, I found also that I could observe another of your desires. You love being abused and hurt, and so I will do that for you also. The more you protest that this is not so, the more I will have to do to prove to you otherwise. And you must remember how we spent our time at the church together..."

Bethany's cheeks glowed red as she recalled again how she had climaxed with this man brutally assaulting her behind. She wanted to deny his words, but she did not dare to speak for fear of what he would do to her if she did.

The same hand that had so recently threatened Bethany's life now gently stroked her cheek.

"But today I do not wish to aim to hurt you. I will aim to give you pleasure, though you may find it painful also. I believe that will enhance the experience for one such as you, so to me it seems a good thing." As he spoke, his hand wandered from Bethany's cheek to her breast, where it gently stroked around the fleshy orb, his fingers just lightly brushing her skin.

Bethany knew that she should hate this intimate contact, that she should rebel against everything this man did to her, but somehow it was not in her spirit to do so. What should have been a wail of protest proved instead to be a sigh of pleasure as the delicate touch stimulated her. Herrault made no sound except the steady, measured beat of his breathing.

Smoothly, almost so that Bethany did not notice it, he transferred his attentions to her other breast. He simply toyed with her with one hand, calmly and precisely placing his strokes as he gently fondled and cupped her breast.

It was almost hypnotic, it seemed, Bethany could feel herself, her will, melting as he shifted occasionally from one to the other breast. It seemed that every outward breath she made was a quiet hum or purr of pleasure, and she could not find any will for it to stop, no urge to ask him to cease, no wish that she be set free. Everything in her world was encompassed in his hand on her breasts.

She never noticed exactly when it was that he moved his focus from her breasts to her areolae and her nipples, teasing and stroking them just as gently as he had been before. It was impossible to deny now hat he was gradually stoking fires within her that she should seek to extinguish if she was the sort of woman that she believed herself to be. But it was apparent that she was not, for she only vocalised her desire for more as a satisfied moan. Now at last Herrault's second hand joined the first, providing stimulation for both breasts at once. Herrault was not merely fixating on those central nodes, but regularly transferred his hands back to their stroking of the breasts themselves, and then again to the nipples and their halos. Several minutes more of this Bethany had to endure and enjoy; she knew that she was beginning to lubricate herself and tears filled her eyes with the humiliation of being brought to such a level of arousal by her hated captor, but also at frustration that he was not moving any further forwards with his provocation of that same arousal. Each time she opened her mouth a moan or wail emerged, but what emotion each of them was supposed to signify, nobody could tell, least of all Bethany herself.

There was no doubting the pleasure that her cry conveyed when at last Herrault moved one hand to her clitoris. Bethany was at last in his power completely, and could care no longer for the shameful responses she gave. She tried again to twist her body, but now she wanted his hand on her, even in her. But he simply hovered it over her, using his middle finger to lightly tickle the sensitive bead of erectile tissue.

As he teased his captive so, he gradually moved his other hand to her pussy. She whined as he slipped two fingers into the waiting orifice, and simultaneously adjusted his other hand to provide a closer, firmer pressure upon her clit.

"Mmmmmmmmm! Ooooooh! Please..." Bethany only wanted him to keep going, she needed to cum after he had stoked the fires within her to such a state, but as she vocalised her desire, he froze. He looked at her with a question in his eyes, almost mocking her.

"Please...Master....please..." she gasped, and at the word "master", he continued, and introduced a third finger to her sopping cunt and shifted again. Now he was also gently teasing her clit with two fingers and his thumb, lightly squeezing and rolling it between them.

As he continued with this massage of Bethany's sensitive organ, he gradually withdrew his fingers. She was so totally in the power of his hands that she was not looking and did not see as he formed his hand into a tight torpedo. She only knew of it as he drove inwards once again.

Suddenly she was focussed entirely on what was happening in her pussy. As each successive row of knuckles passed between her labia, she found herself stretched more and more, and she could feel the hand becoming larger and larger in the entrance to her secret tunnel. She was gasping and panting, and as Herrault had promised it hurt her, but it felt so good. As she felt her pussylips close around his wrist, she breathed out heavily, only to gasp again: the fingers and thumb working at her clit had suddenly taken a less gentle tack, and pinches more severely, pummelling, even tugging, where once they had caressed and teased. She was panting, and despite the painful attentions of her Master (how wrong she felt she had been ever to doubt him) she knew that she was on the threshold of a crazy, unrestrained orgasm – only possible precisely because she was physically tied down.

Then she felt with a tremendous climax of pain and pleasure, Herrault's lips and tongue on her clit and at the same time his hand forming a fist inside her body. It was too much, and she cried and screamed in ecstasy as the orgasm swamped her senses, taking her into a cascade of pleasure. She barely noticed as she came down from her high that Herrault had already departed from her room.