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Chapter 30 – An Accommodation with the Predator
Dinner had been a tense affair. The two of them sat adjacent to each other, Charlotte looking up from her diminutive chair and Mr Campbell occasionally glancing across from his seat. Not a word was spoken by either of them, with the exception of Mr Campbell issuing instructions to the help and Charlotte thanking Bosker when he removed her dirty plate and cutlery at the end of the meal.
Twice their gaze met during the meal. The first time Charlotte fixed him in her sight inquiringly. Wondering what conclusion, if any, he had reached in his deliberations after she had left him in the sitting room. He had held her look for a few moments when he returned his attention to dinner. Obviously he would reveal his thoughts when he chose, hopefully after dinner, she thought to herself.
The second time, as the maid removed his plate and Bosker removed hers, he initiated. What was that in his eyes? Curiosity? Trepidation? Was it possible that he was anxious? Charlotte had never seen him ruffled. She'd seen him on the verge of losing his temper, she'd seen him drunkenly vulnerable, but never had she ever received the impression that he was anything other than in complete control over events. Now there was something there behind those dark eyes. A reluctant resolve perhaps?
Bosker removed her plate; all the while she maintained her eye contact with Mr Campbell. Finally he stood and spoke to her: "Might I have the pleasure of your company this evening my dear?"
"Certainly."
----
"I've thought long and hard about what was said this afternoon Charlotte. I must say that I seriously considered sending you home, making available to you an expense account and leaving you to your own devices until you reach eighteen. I still might do that.
"But not yet. I think you were right this afternoon when you said that it was 'time for some honesty'." He spoke his words slowly, as if measuring each one carefully for impact and delivery.
"First of all, I accept your proposal for a safe word… with conditions. You can use whatever word you choose only three times. Any more and I will send you home as I suggested before. So you'll have to think very carefully before using it. It would be pointless to allow you to shout it out whenever you get into trouble, you'd just abuse it. So three times only shall you be allowed to utter it. Agreed?"
Charlotte briefly considered his question before nodding at him from her seat on her sheepskin in his study. "Home. I want my word to be 'Home'".
"Fine. Now I'm going to tell you a story. How much do you know about Jeanine and myself?"
Was he about to reveal the truth? Was he finally going to tell Charlotte what exactly had happened all those years ago?
Briefly she explained to him what she had worked out and heard. That the two of them had been together, that she had suffered problems in bed with him due to her sexual predilections. Further, that she had resolved to talk to him about her problems and that sometime after that, once the two of them returned to college, that she had left him for Charlotte's father.
"Well then, I see you already know most of the story. What you don't know is what happened after we returned to college.
"Mid-term exams were approaching. The two of us were about to have to really knuckle down and study. So we put aside one final night for the two of us before we focussed on passing our exams.
"I took her to the best restaurant in town, a wonderful Italian place, the prices were enough to make me cringe, but your mother was worth every cent. She wore the most perfect outfit, her hair was… sorry, you don't need to know that.
"We had a wonderful dinner and then she invited me back to her place. Her roommate had gone out for the night. So I naturally agreed, thinking she wanted to make love.
"I went inside, she asked if she could change. When she came back she was half naked and she began… well, she was very persuasive. We ended up on her bed. That was when she told me she had a request. Something that she had wanted to ask me long before but had been afraid to…
"She asked me to hurt her." While recounting these memories he stared toward the ceiling, but with these final words he fixed his gaze sharply on Charlotte.
"She asked me to spank her, to bite her, to hurt her. She said she needed it, to feel right.
"I didn't now what to do, how to act. Here was the woman I loved, that I cherished. I'd have died before I saw anyone hurt even a hair on her head. She was my soul, my heart, my everything. And she wanted me to hurt her." He let silence fill the room.
"What did you do?" Charlotte asked quietly.
"I'm sorry, this isn't very easy for me. This is partly why I haven't told you this story before, every time I remember it, its like having a dagger thrust into my heart." A pained grimace indeed sat on his face.
Charlotte prompted him to continue: "I'm sorry Mr Campbell, please continue: what happened, why did she leave you?"
"She didn't leave me. It was a mutual decision, one that I now regret with all my being."
Charlotte baulked, this wasn't what she'd been told: "What do you mean? Jane said your Mom told her that Jeanine had run off with your best friend, I assumed she meant Dad."
"Of course I told her that. What else was I supposed to say? Sorry Mom: Jeanine wanted me to stick needles in her breasts, to whip her vagina, to force her to insert oversized objects into her anus, to degrade her to such a degree that I could never have agreed.
"So I lied. Your mother wanted me to do things to her that I could never have agreed to. So I ran away from her because I couldn't meet her demands. Then she contacted me and made an ultimatum of sorts.
"She sat down with me and professed her undying love for me. She asked me whether I'd ever be able to work through our problems with her desires. I told her I could never hurt her - the idea revolted me at the time. I couldn't see how two people who loved each other could ever hurt each other.
"Then she told me that she'd met someone who understood her, that she cared for him, but that she also cared for me more. She wanted me – no - she wished with all her soul that I could be with her, but that she couldn't be with me if I couldn't live with her desires."
Charlotte sat mesmerised; the pieces of the puzzle finally seemed to be falling into place. Mr Campbell continued: "I asked her for time. I spent a lot of time struggling with myself, trying to convince myself that for her sake and our love that I could learn to hurt her in the bedroom. I failed. In the end we agreed to leave each other.
"But what made it worse, what… what... what crucifies me every day and every night, is that only months afterward I found I shared her fantasies. I was just too young at the time. Too young to understand what she needed. I thought she wanted pain, what she wanted was something else. Something that I came to understand in time, but was too late to understand in order to keep her.
"That's what happened. So now you know."
----
Silence had descended like the blackest night over the study as he finished recounting his tale. Charlotte sat considering the revelations he had uncovered while he sat silently in his Chesterfield, looking upon the young girl sitting delicately before him on her sheepskin.
"So where do we go from here young Charlotte? You've already indicated that you are unsatisfied with our 'current arrangements'. It seems that a single day with Jane has led you to think that you can demand wholesale changes around here.
"Your mother's history - now that you deserved to know. I should have told you earlier except that as I said; every time I think about her my heart gets rent apart all over again. But now I've told you. You do realise that I have never told anyone else that whole story don't you?"
"I appreciate it very much Mr Campbell, I think I understand it all a bit better now. Thankyou."
He looked at her carefully and then spoke again: "But the past is the past. The two of us still have unfinished business: 'where do we go from here?'"
Charlotte looked up at him curiously.
"Since it seems to be the time for confessions and the truth, let me correct a previous statement that I made. You asked me whether I liked inflicting my punishments and humiliations on you. I deliberately avoided answering the question. So, ask me again."
Charlotte thought back to her encounter with him this afternoon, trying to remember her exact words, in the end she was forced to paraphrase: "When you punish me, humiliate me, make me dress up, do you enjoy that?"
With an absolutely deadpan face Mr Campbell firmly responded from his couch: "Yes. Yes I do."
Charlotte was taken aback. She had guessed at the truth but she'd never expected him to admit to it so readily.
"I do enjoy it. I have recordings of every single minute of your time here, and with a few exceptions I've watched almost every minute. I enjoy watching you suffer, but you know what my little Charlotte? You enjoy every single minute almost as much as I do."
Her pulse quickened to a frenzy. What the hell was going on here?
"Since we're being so brutally honest with each other lets get it all out shall we? I enjoy tormenting you, I enjoy dreaming up new ways to humiliate you, to make you squeal, to have control over you. I enjoy it. But you, you my little beautiful girl, you love it just as much. So when you said that 'This can't go on', I don't believe you. Not for a minute. Personally I don't understand your reaction, nor did I understand your mother's reaction to pain. I think it's perverse, disgusting. You are a filthy little slut and I'll bet that right now, at this very moment you're dripping wet. I'll bet that underneath those little white tights of yours your pussy is gushing."
He was right, even being in the same room as him, his smooth voice, his menacing figure and unpredictable ability to throw her completely off balance had led to the butterflies beginning to flutter.
"Tell me I'm wrong and I'll let you go. I'll send you home and you can look after yourself till you turn eighteen. Tell me I'm wrong."
She remained silent, she kept eye contact with him, but she was struggling not to automatically gaze submissively at the floor.
"No, I didn't think I was. So I'll ask my question again: 'Where do we go from here?'"
"I don't know." She uttered almost mutely.
"Well, I have a proposition for you. One that should prove 'mutually agreeable' to the two of us. You said you want changes, that some of our 'arrangements' are not to your liking. Fine, then you can buy them."
"You tell me what you want changed and I'll tell you the price your body will have to pay for those changes to occur. If you don't like the price then the change doesn't happen. You've heard the story about your mother, how she wanted me to treat her, how I was never able to? Well, since you've decided to follow in her footstep's we'll see just how far you can go.
"Do you agree?"
How did he do it? In moments he had turned her upside down, torn away her resolve to confront him, and now she was about to agree to this game.
He stood up now and walked to his sewing table. From beneath it he extracted a shabby brown suitcase. With it in tow he returned to his seat, waiting a response from her.
She gulped as she remembered his earlier words about her mother:
The things she wanted me to do to her are so far removed from anything that I have done to little Charlotte here, that it beggars belief.
Would he go that far now? He'd just admitted to enjoying tormenting her, not that the revelation itself had surprised her. What had surprised her was his readiness to admit it to her.
wanted me to stick needles in her breasts,
to whip her vagina,
to force her to insert oversized objects into her anus,
to degrade her to such a degree that I could never have agreed…
It now occurred to her that maybe her safe word was a double-edged sword. Had he held back previously? Unsure of her limits had he deliberately restricted the intensity of her punishments? Now that she had a means of communicating that limit would he push her harder? The concept horrified her. She thought back through the things he had done, or had had done to her and wondered whether she would have used her safe word had it been available to her then.
Would she have used the word when Madeline had coerced her onto the riding horse? Probably not, the pain had been nearly unbearable, but not to the point of sacrificing one of the precious uses of her safe word.
The clamps and panties had brought tears to her eyes with every movement she had made; yet she doubted that she would have used the word in that situation either. Would she use it at all knowing that each use brought her closer and closer to being sent back home, away from him.
Being trapped in the diaper until she'd peed herself, well that hadn't been painful, deeply embarrassing and humiliating maybe, but certainly not worth the use of her word.
What would she use it on, if anything…
stick needles in her breasts
whip her vagina
force her to insert oversized objects into her anus
The things she wanted me to do to her are so far removed from anything that I have done to little Charlotte here, that it beggars belief.
And now:
Since you've decided to follow in her footstep's we'll see just how far you can go…
The mere thought of being pushed so far drove her into a wild flux. Her cheeks felt flushed and her thighs burned with an uncontrollable hunger.
"Alright."
"Alright what?"
"Alright Mr Campbell, I'll play your game." His eyes lit up in anticipation. What had she unleashed?
"Well. What is it you want? What are you so keen to see change in this house that you are prepared to suffer agony, torment and despair in order to achieve it?"
She thought through her mental list of demands, demands that she had initially planned on presenting to him as a fait accompli. However again, events had spiralled out of her control. Now she found herself prioritising them, wondering what price he would extract from her for their implementation.
"I don't want to be kept locked up all the time." She muttered.
"I'm sorry, I can't hear you my darling, speak up. What did you say?"
"I said 'I don't want to be kept locked up all the time.' I want to be able to visit Lisa occasionally. I like her and I think she likes me, I don't have any friends here but I think she's great. I would like to see her from time to time."
"Alright. But there will be conditions. Firstly, you must be dressed appropriately as determined by me. Secondly, you will return home by dinnertime. If you wish I will arrange to make the car available to you. Thirdly, during each of your visits you must spend some of your time together in a public place, the park, a restaurant, somewhere where everyone around will see you in your pretty little clothing. Those are the conditions, are you generally in agreement?"
"What about the leash?"
"What about it?"
"Do I have to wear it? What if I promise not to run away?"
"I will for the moment consider the leash part of what comprises appropriate clothing. That may change in the future if you continue to prove that you are trustworthy by yourself outside of the apartment.
"Now the question is my little Charlotte, will you be prepared to pay the price for me agreeing to allow you out of the house to see Lisa."
"Price? I thought the clothes and the bit in public were the price?"
"Not at all my dear. They were merely the conditions, you still have to pay a price." He leant forward and opened the suitcase in such a way that she was unable to see its contents.
"For a start Charlotte you will remove all of your clothes. You won't need all of them for the time being. Until I tell you otherwise you will remove your dress, panties, tights, shoes and socks. Then I want you to put these on." He passed her a pair of white stay up stockings followed by a new pair of frilly white socks and her trusty black Mary Janes.
"I want you naked except for these items until I deem fit. I want to look at your naked body, your shaven vagina, your cute little bottom and your delectable breasts. This is the price you will pay if you want to see Lisa. Are you prepared to pay it?"
She thought only briefly about it before standing up in front of him. "You want me to change here? In front of you?" What was she doing? Somewhere in the back of her mind she asked herself why she was doing this. Hadn't he only just admitted that he enjoyed making her suffer, that he lusted after her. He was so old, she was too young! But logic played no part in her decision making process now. The butterflies were making her decisions for her, this felt right somehow.
"If you like. I don't mind, you can use the screen if you like." He pointed toward the changing screen in the corner.
"No, it's alright, I'll change now."
Slowly she untied the bow at her back loosening the dress around her waist. Dextrously reaching behind her back she pulled the zip down and stepped out of the dress, leaving it lying on the ground. She stood now in just her tights, socks, panties and shoes. One at a time she knelt down and unbuckled her pink shoes and took her socks off, carefully folding them and placing them on her sheepskin.
Mr Campbell sat in his chair watching her slowly remove her clothing. The room's soft lighting glowed against her delicate skin. He watched her every move carefully, lugubriously.
Now she was rolling her opaque tights down her legs revealing the plain cotton white panties beneath. These panties were absent of frills or ruffles, given that they sat under her tights. Finally she pulled her panties down, revealing her perfectly shaped girlhood, cleanly shaven as of that morning.
Taking the stockings she rolled them up her legs and adjusted them about her thighs. The lacy tops of the stockings clung enticingly to the tops of her thighs. Then she pulled on her frilly white socks, taking an opportunity to look up at Mr Campbell between adjusting each one. He sat staring appraisingly at her naked body.
Finally she buckled on her shoes and stood in front of him. "Like this?"
"Yes, just like that. Now – you've got your visits to Lisa, what's next on your list of 'grievances'?"
Charlotte considered the next item on her mental list. Naked, she stood in front of him wondering what his price for her next desire would be.
"No more Madeline. You I can handle, but not her. It's like you and I are two different sides of the same coin. I see that now. But what you do for…" she sought after the right word, "amusement; she does out of malice. I want her away from me; in fact I want to get her back."
"Is that one request or two? Never mind."
He thought for a few moments. "Madeline has been with my family as long as I can remember Charlotte; I can't very well let her go on your whim. I understand your frustration with her; I watched the footage of you in the nursery just this morning. You might say Madeline was rather over judicious.
"But whether you like it or not, Madeline performs an important role in this household. I won't let her go, and I won't allow you to 'get her back'. What I will do however is ban her from being alone with you. Is that enough?"
"I suppose so. But I really want to give her a taste of her own medicine –"
"No, definitely not. I won't allow it."
"But you'll keep her away from me then?"
"That depends on whether you will pay the price." In an instant he changed from businesslike negotiator to deviant predator. The look on his face had Charlotte dreading to ask what the price would be. Luckily he saved her the trouble of gathering the courage to ask.
"One hour, every evening. You, me – alone. You will do whatever I ask of you, within reason. If I want you to play human mannequin then you'll do so. If I ask you to play with your dolls for me, you'll do it. No questions asked."
"No more Madeline?" She asked hopefully.
"Not quite. Come here." He patted his thighs, suggesting that she should come and sit on his lap. An almost naked Charlotte, clad only in white stockings, frilly socks and her shoes, approached him and gently sat on his knee, her naked bottom gracing his fine Italian silk suit pants.
"The hour each night, and you'll let me put this on you now. You'll wear it until I am satisfied with its effect on your breasts." He pulled out of the suitcase a white painted wood contraption. Two pieces of gently curving wooden dowel had been attached together by three lengths of metal thread. Atop the top of each piece of thread sat a wing nut. Charlotte guessed the nature of the contraption. It was a vice designed to squeeze her breasts tightly between the two lengths of wood.
"I put that thing on and no more Madeline, right?"
"None, you'll only see her at dinner time, and I'll be there to make sure she behaves." He brandished the cruel looking vice in his hands, and ran his arms around her torso, holding the open vice in front of her defenceless breasts. She considered it, weighing up the relative benefits.
"How tight are you going to do that thing up?"
"That's up to me. Do you agree or not?"
This was all going to fast. Everything had made perfect sense when she'd talked to Lisa. She was going to get her demands, get some answers and live happily ever after… Now she realised that she'd had unreal expectations. As soon as she'd walked into the same room as him she could feel his power over her. A power that had at first been applied through coercion and threats but that he now wielded over her simply by his presence.
Power is as seductive to the wielder as it is to the object of that power and Charlotte was now well and truly caught up in its thrall.
She nodded to him as he fed each of her breasts between the two pieces of wood. Satisfied that he had captured enough of her modest globes in order to prevent the vice from falling off, he squeezed the two pieces of wood together and rapidly spun the nuts down the thread until they rested against the wood. Now secure from falling off he began slowly, inexorably tightening each of the screws down.
At first the vice proved uncomfortable, then as the nuts ran further and further down the thread her breasts began to bulge out between the wood. Uncomfortable became unpleasant and then unpleasant became distressing. Still he kept tightening the nuts and Charlotte began to moan with each twist of the screws.
Her breasts were already becoming discoloured, a rosy red flush settled on them as the base of her breasts were squeezed tighter and tighter - trapping blood within their distended flesh. Finally, when it felt like to her as if the two pieces of dowel must almost be touching and her breasts were about to burst, he stopped and had her stand in front of him.
He ran his fingers over the taut bulging flesh of her breasts. It seemed to her that every touch was magnified ten fold. Delicately he touched her nipples and the butterflies in her stomach soared to new heights.
"Now what would you like next my tormented little pet?" He asked soothingly.
Her mind was awash in pain and pleasure; it took her a few moments to remember the next item on her list.
"My bedroom should be my room. It should be my place." She struggled for breath between each sentence, her breasts burned, two balls of crushing intense agony. "I want to be able to put posters up, keep my own stuff there. I don't want Bosker, Madeline or you snooping through it. I want the camera turned off and I want an allowance, nothing huge, just enough to buy some magazines and stuff once a week." She needed a private space, somewhere that she could escape to. A refuge. Of all her demands, this was the most important to her.
"Why? So you can secret away more things to help you escape? Like the cup full of my brandy you have hidden in your desk?"
So, he had known what she was up to. He hadn't reacted before when she'd revealed she'd been planning on escaping, she'd guessed then that he had known. Now she knew for sure.
"No, I promised you that I won't try to escape. You have my word on my father's life of that.
"I want my privacy so that I can be me, in the quiet of my own room. Everyone needs privacy from time to time. That's all I want. A place to call my own."
"Don't forget the 'allowance'. You ask for a lot Charlotte. But first, I'm intrigued. Exactly how were you planning on escaping? What were you planning on doing – spiking Bosker's tea with the brandy and hoping he'd pass out?" He asked jovially, whilst continuing to lightly stroke her breasts, which were turning a darker blue all the time.
"No, I was going to make a fire. Use the brandy as fuel and set off the fire alarms." He pinched her nipple sharply as she said the word 'fire', she bit back a squeal and continued: "Then I was going to make it down the lift or out the fire escape in the confusion. Or cling to a fireman or something. I hadn't quite worked it all out."
"Clever, unlikely to work, but clever nonetheless. I must commend you for your ingenuity. An interesting concept Charlotte, I admit I hadn't thought of you trying that, with a lot of luck it might just have worked.
He continued stroking her breasts, alternately flicking or pinching her highly erect and sensitive nipples. Each minute blow caused a great deal of pain, but she managed to bite her tongue and stifle any reaction.
"So: my camera turned off, no 'snooping', an allowance and you want to be able to do what you like with your room. That's quite a lot, particularly as I still don't trust you entirely. I can't even begin to think of a price.
"Perhaps a week in nursery?" He looked at her face, her eyes were suitably downcast but he judged her reaction to that proposition as insufficient, "No, that's not it, not enough. I can see it in your eyes. This requires something… special."
She looked up at him, he was burning with lust. She also noticed a decided bulge in his pants along with the desire evident in his eyes. She wondered what something this special would entail.
He left her breasts alone for a few moments and leant back toward the open suitcase. "Put these on, actually no." He had pulled out a familiar item, the white thigh straps and their brutal little clamps. "No, I will put these on you myself. Come here and spread your legs my little pet."
"But you haven't told me the price yet? How am I supposed to agree or not."
"How much do you want this demand?" He asked cruelly.
She gulped as she imagined his hands on her nether regions. No one had ever touched her there on the bare skin. Bosker had frisked her during panty checks and Madeline had rubbed her through her panties but this was different. A boundary was being crossed - his fingers on her naked skin.
But the promise of her privacy was too much. She stepped closer to him, parting her legs slightly.
He wrapped the first strap around her thigh, slightly lower than where she herself would have placed it. The springs, when taut, would now stretch even further than they had during her last encounter with these infernal devices, creating even more tension. He pulled the strap tight and buckled it, ensuring that the white leather band would not slide up her thigh to provide her with even a sliver of relief.
Carefully he wrapped the other band about her and buckled it. Both cut into her thighs firmly, unable to budge up or down an inch. The short but powerful springs were currently coiled tightly and dangled down the inside of her legs. Even through her sheer white stockings, the cold metal of the clamps and springs raised goose bumps as they brushed against her inner thighs.
Now she inhaled sharply as he peered carefully at her closed and unsullied flower. His fingers touched her for the very first time. Clumsily he gripped her outer labia between thumb and forefinger, pinching her harshly. She squeaked out a complaint at the treatment: "Be careful Mr Campbell, please don't pinch so hard…"
"Be quiet, or I'll really try and pinch you."
He stretched her lip away from her core and with his other hand opened the teeth of the clamp. She couldn't see his progress from above and as a result she jumped slightly as the clamp's teeth were released onto her flesh.
The pain - she remembered the pain of the clamps. The sharp teeth biting into her flesh and the strain imposed by the springs on her stretched lips.
Now the second clamp shut down on her delicate skin. Acting in tandem the two clamps not only pulled her lip away from her sex, but stretched it brutally taut between them. She hissed slightly as he completed one side and moved to the other.
Again his hard, pinching fingers grabbed a hold of her, depriving her feminine core of its only fleshy defences. The two clamps in quick succession were plied onto her and his hands momentarily left her as he sat back to look at the stretched, straining skin caught between the forceful clamps and springs.
"Pretty as a picture." The fire still burned brightly in his eyes. Charlotte looked upon him as he sat back appreciating the view that confronted him. Temporarily she had forgotten about her breasts, painfully crushed as they were in the wooden vice. Now her mind was entirely focussed on her stretched labia.
His hand reached toward the suitcase again, she cringed. Wasn't this enough – hadn't he extracted enough from her already?
Apparently he thought not.
Now her old friends, the punishment panties appeared in his hand, white frills standing out from the waistband and a red ribbon adorning their centre. Well, what else had she been expecting?
"Come here; put your foot through here. That's the girl."
He feed each of her feet through the leg holes of the panties, trying to avoid catching her stockings on the sharp bristles within. By stages he worked them up her legs, over her knees and up her thighs. With a hand's breadth of distance remaining to travel before the bristles began their evil work - he stopped.
"My poor little Charlotte – so stretched, so tormented. I wonder…"
He moved his hand into the remaining gap between the panties hoisted up around her thighs and her crotch. She instinctively twitched as his index and middle finger touched her inner core. She shivered as he delicately pushed his fingers across the surface of her exposed slit. They ran easily over the lubricated surface, the attention of the clamps – not to mention the pain in her breasts, and he himself – had resulted in the inevitable dampness emanating from within her.
"Why Charlotte – you're wet. Perhaps you weren't fibbing when you said you enjoy this." He lifted her chin with his free hand while she tried to stare at her feet, feeling ashamed and aroused. He looked at her in the eyes, a malicious grin spreading across his face. "More?"
He pushed the fingers back and forth, enticing her, teasing her. Despite the pain, or because of it, she wanted nothing in the world more than for him to fill the empty void between her thighs. For him to slip that finger into her. She stifled a moan and closed her eyes. She wished for him to go further, to stop playing around the outside of her, to fill her with his strong fingers.
Again he asked: "Would my baby Charlotte like some more?"
Absent-mindedly her hand rose to her breast, she took one engorged nipple from her crushed blue breast between her fingers and began rolling it back and forth in between her fingers, the pain in her nipples driving her closer and closer to the brink. Thoughts of him filling her void with his fingers overwhelming her, she only half-heard his question. Wanting him to finish the job he'd started she nodded and replied. "Yes. Please Mr Campbell, please, more!" She begged.
Immediately he withdrew his hand from her and pulled her panties the rest of the way up her thighs. The speed with which he pulled them up drove the stiff sharp bristles straight into the uncovered, unprotected flesh of her crotch.
She screamed. A howl that would have rent the heavens surged out from Charlotte's depths. It was a potent mixture of agony tinged with a sizeable portion of frustration.
Mr Campbell sat back while Charlotte fell to her knees while her hands shot down to cup her aching crotch. Her descent and the resultant friction between her crotch and the bristles produced another, but less intense cry.
"They stay on. Until I am satisfied."
With a look of sheer dejection she looked pleadingly toward him. He shook his head, indicating that no escape from this torment was forthcoming.
Slowly, she removed her hands from her crotch. Struggling to stay afloat in her sea of pain, struggling to remember what the next demand she wanted was.
"I would like… a say in how… I am dressed." She panted out the words as waves of excruciation washed over her, threatening to engulf her.
"My-my, full of demands this evening aren't you. One problem my little darling."
"What?"
"I haven't finished extracting the price for your room yet."
"Sorry? But I put the… panties on for you."
"There is still one thing left for you to do."
She looked curiously at him. Tears now ran slowly down her cheeks as the clamps dug into her, her breasts pounding with every beat of her heart and the bristles stabbing themselves into her. She sought for the will to ask what was left for her, but her state was too precarious. All she could think about was the pain.
His already malicious grin grew even wider. "Masturbate yourself."
"What?" She cried in exasperation.
"Masturbate yourself. Rub yourself through the panties. Grind the bristles into yourself, rub them into your delicate little clitoris, push them into your hole."
"No! I can't, oh I can't Mr Campbell, please that's too much!" She cried at him. It was too much, already she could barely stand the conflicting pains and agonies being inflicted on her. He asked too much of her.
"Do it. Now, I've seen the tapes of you in the shower, I know you masturbate. Do it for me now."
"I can't, please. Don't make me do this, I can't do it."
He waited, seeing if she would cave in. Moments passed.
"Then you'll stay like that until you do. I'll bind you hands behind you and you can stay in those panties, clamps and the vice until you agree to masturbate for me. If it takes all night, you will do it."
"But, I'm already sore enough. Please Mr Campbell, don't make me do this…"
He remained staring at her. No pity in his eyes now. At least when he'd first introduced her to the panties and clamps he'd exhibited signs of pity. He'd comforted her, told her to be brave. Now that she'd revealed her nature, her love of pain, and acquiesced to this game, there was no sympathy from him.
He didn't reply to her. It was clear he would wait as long as it took.
Slowly, she brought her right hand down to her crotch. She brushed the lacy ruffle around her waist and cupped her hand over her mound. She looked at him and shook her head slowly, her mouth scrunched in an embryonic wail. She visually pleaded for him to grant her a reprieve. He shook his head soberly in return, rebuffing her silent plea.
Gently she pushed her fingers onto her mound, sending shooting pains straight into her. The bristles, even lightly touched extracted cries of misery from Charlotte. She imagined the vicious bristles lacerating her tender unprotected membranes, it certainly felt to her as though she were being viciously slashed apart underneath the panties.
The fat, pregnant tears that had been slowly migrating their way down her cheeks now evolved into a constant rivulet as she moved her fingers slowly back and forth delicately over her crotch.
"Harder, you're barely even trying."
"No, I can't." But contrary to her refusal she did apply slightly more pressure, eliciting even stronger cries. Semi naked she knelt on her knees before Mr Campbell. Her breasts bulging out from the painfully tight breast vice, one hand between her legs, gently plying at her sex through the panties.
He leant forward and placed one hand behind her back, preventing her from pulling away from him. "Keep playing with yourself Charlotte." He remonstrated with her as his free hand descended on one of the wing nuts on the breast vice. Slowly, while Charlotte continued moving her fingers back and forth, he tightened the breast vice even further, squeezing her already disfigured and bulging breasts even further.
"No please!" She screamed.
"Your clitoris Charlotte, grind the bristles into your clitoris."
Now, without an ounce of free will left, caught up in a tornado of pain she moved her fingers upwards along her vulnerable pussy and pressed down on her clitoris. Red explosions of pain, animalistic screams - the wicked bristles stabbed into her already aroused clitoris.
Mr Campbell, content after having tightened the vice a few extra, agonising, but crucial turns, now sat back down.
She was now beyond control or caring, the butterflies, already beating their wings more rapidly than she could ever have remembered in her short life reached a new crescendo. Through the pain she rubbed herself harder, grinding the bristles deeper into her flesh, pushing, rubbing, grinding.
Suddenly, from within the depths of pain she exploded into a zenith of pleasure, a release, a flood, a mind-blowing detonation comparing against nothing she had felt before. Time slowed down and it seemed like minutes passed her by as she felt an incomparable rush of exhilaration and release…
And then everything went black.
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