Ravaged

RAVAGED

Chapter Two

  Unconscious, naked, her tanned body lies sprawled out on her back.  Arms and legs virtually motionless on the disheveled bed, the pillow partially covers her face.

       The moonlight continues to cast faint shadows across her bedroom, the rain momentarily stopping, the clouds parting.  Standing in the darkest of those shadows at the head of the bed, he gazes across his prized trophy, mesmerized by the rhythmic raising, lowering of her hollowed stomach with each breath.

       Spread eagled, her bare body glistens with perspiration.  Her breasts, firm symmetrical mounds, gently sway toward her sides, her shimmering nipples pointing seductively upward as her arched back rests on the pillow below her shoulders.

       Dropping the chloroform soaked, cloth rag to the floor he firmly, slowly slides his hand from her throat, flips the pillow off her face, and grips the inviting flesh of her left breast.  Slowly circling the fingertips of his left hand around the tan circumference of her spread areola, he tweaks the nub of her nipple between his thumbnail and first knuckle of his forefinger, twists.  Glancing over toward her right breast, leaning across her, sliding his right hand across that quivering globe, he grips, similarly squeezes its nipple.

       Glancing toward her expressionless face, his fingers melding, squeezing, twisting, gripping tighter, he lifts, tugs.  Her limp arms remain lax toward her sides as her back raises off, above the flattened pillow.  Her breasts tautly stretch, supporting the weight of her shoulders and chest, her head tilting backwards, resting across the mattress.

       Gripping firmer, tugging higher, glancing down across her unconscious body, he watches her defined ribcage, her hollowing stomach flexing as her hips are slid upwards across the ruffled sheets, barely in contact with the mattress, her body momentarily suspended by her stretched nipples with each tug.  Having her centered across the bed, he releases his fingers, thumbs, her body limply dropping over the soiled bed sheets.

       Leaning over the edge of the bed he can see the redness of her flattened nipples.  Feeling the pounding in his chest, he savors the moment, the feeling of excitement, and the power as he stands over her.  Realizing he has the entire night to play out his many fantasies he has involving her, he glances down toward his bag full of the special equipment he’s prepared himself with over the past few weeks.

       The quick flash of heat lightning, the loud, short clasp of thunder echoes thru the window as a quick burst of down pouring rain splatters across the window sill, splashing thru the fan blades.  Glancing toward the open window, toward the steady drone of the fan, he again glances down toward his unconscious prey, steps toward the window.

       Turning the fan off, dropping the screen across the floor, he forces, jams the window close, pulls the tattered blind down, closes the dark curtains.  Again turning toward the bed, feeling his way toward its head, he flicks on the wall switch.

       The room’s instantly lit under a dim ceiling bulb, totally revealing her nakedness as he begins slipping out of his damp clothes, dropping them onto the floor next to the bed.  The heat’s not affecting him, actually he appreciates the effectiveness it’s having on her sweat drenched body, shimmering, glistening on the mattress.

       Sliding his right hand across the glistening bare flesh of her thigh he lets his fingertip flick across the bud of her clit.  Hesitating, he slowly slips his finger between the folds of her damp spread labia lips to his second knuckle, just as slowly, back out.

       The stickiness of her moist slit covers his fingers as he raises his hand, slowly brushes it across his parted lips, into his opening mouth.  Her taste excites him, his cock stiffening, standing out from between his thighs.  Reaching his left hand back down between her spread thighs he slides a couple fingers knuckle deep into her pair of orifices, one each.  One tighter then the other.

       Sliding his fingers slowly in and out, back and forth, he watches her face, her seductive lips, thinking he can hear the faintest moan, her lips barely parting.

Reaching toward her mouth with his right hand, he parts her lips, slides his thumb firmly into that moist orifice, thinking, contemplating in which order he’s going to bury his cock into her.  She remains motionless; head tilted back as he begins stroking her mouth in rhythm with her other holes.  He feels her saliva covering his thumb along with the sticky fluid of her vagina mixed with her perspiration clinging to his other fingers.

       His cock throbs, jerks, its head oozing, flicks across her left arm laying flat on the mattress.  Sweat collects on her hollowing stomach, her breasts softly swaying back and forth as trickles of moisture streak off her rounded globes, across her sides, dripping onto the rumpled bed sheets.  Sliding his thumb from her mouth, gripping his pulsing shaft tighter, firmly palming it, stroking it back and forth, he positions it above her face.

       Slipping his finger from her rectum, pressing it against a couple more fingers, he slides all three into her stretching vagina, begins pumping in and out, masturbating himself at the same frantic rate.  Thrusting with one hand, squeezing, pumping, with the other, he feels his hard, pulsing shaft oozing, twitching, and jerking.  Smacking it back and forth across her cheek, nose, cum shoots, splashes across her barely slit, hazed eyes.  Spurts of cum smears across her forehead and her hair, splatters the sheets.

       Relentless, continuing to stroke his twitching shaft, another shot of cum slings across her parted lips, open mouth, sticks in her nostrils.  Releasing his shaft, grunting, he forces a forth finger into her wet slit, burying all four inside her stretched cuntlips, all the way up to the web of his spread thumb.

       Her thighs lift; reflexively jerk as he forces his fist deeper and harder between the fleshy folds of her vulva.  His thumb presses, grips her clit between the edges of his forefinger, he squeezes harder.  Her clit flattens, stretches as he twists, tugs.

       Grunting, he relaxes his fingers, releases his pulsing shaft.  The final jucies ooze from his flexing shaft onto her quivering left breast, nipple.  Jerking his fist from between her thighs, he watches her drenched body shudder as he takes a step back.

       Catching his breath he stands silently beside the bed, staring down toward her lying on the soiled bedspread, her body still limber.  Sliding the cover off one of the pillows, he slowly wipes his hands with it.  Reaching down across her naked body, he wipes the cover back and forth across her chest, neck, mouth, nose, ending with a final swipe across her forehead, hairline.  Finished, he lets the cover drop to the floor across his clothes.

       Reaching down into the side compartment of the satchel, he pulls out a black leather bondage hood.  Tilting her head facing toward him, sliding the mask’s backside across her face, adjusting, twisting, he molds it across her face, head.  Twisting her hair into a loose braid, he slips its ends thru a round slit in the top of the leather, letting it flow across the mattress, above her head.

       Reaching back into the satchel, pulling out a pair of rubber ear plugs, he slides one into her left ear, the other into her right.  Twisting her head back and forth, double checking both plugs are secure, he carefully zips the zipper shut from the top of the hood down to the bottom of her neck.

       He’s satisfied; the mask seems to fit perfectly as he does a couple of final touches.  Squeezing her lips between the mask’s mouth slit, adjusting the molded leather across the ridge of her nose, he again twists, tugs, getting the perfect alignment, finishing the double slits over her closed eyes.

       Again he momentarily takes a step back to appreciate his work.  Again he feels the rush, the anticipation of completing the task at hand.  Reaching into the satchel yet again, he finds a cloth bag of black leather cuffs.  Shaking the bag beside her naked body, the items fall across the bed.  Separating them into pairs, he places them into three rows.

       Sliding his right arm under her back, shoving her left shoulder over with his left hand, he pushes, positions her onto her side, facing away.  Gripping her right elbow, tugging, pulling, he slides her arm out behind her.  Sorting one of the larger cuffs, he slips, fastens it across her right bicep, picking up the matching cuff, and fastens it around her left bicep.  Leaning across her, pressing firmly downward with his body weight, forcing her shoulders to arch, bend, bow, he forces the cuffs together, snaps the clip shut between them.

       Giving her a shove in the small of the back, flipping her onto her bare, now thrust out breasts, he reaches onto the bed, picks up the pair of medium sized cuffs.  Leaning across her he can’t help noticing her rounded globes, flattened on the mattress, jaunting outward from either side of her shoulders, both nipples fully exposed.  Slipping each cuff around her elbows, he uses a knee and a hand to force her elbows to push together between them, to touch, again snaps the clip shut.  The final set of cuffs are more easily slipped across her wrists, with palms outward, their clips snapped shut.

       Reaching across her back, grabbing the base of her left breast in his left fist, he pulls, tugs, twists her limp form toward him, flipping her onto her back, her arms tightly pressed together beneath her.

       Excited with her appearance, her distorted torso, he’s fascinated that both breasts are obscenely forced into firm, pointed cones, jaunting away from one another, standing up, rock hard, obviously caused by her taut chest muscles, tendons stretching toward her bowing back.  He watches her abs rippling, her stomach hollowing, her hard nipples glistening, jiggling with each breath, sweat dripping, streaking off her nude flesh onto the crinkled sheets.

       Reaching into the satchel, lifting out a pair of black leather straps, he lifts her left leg, forces her ankle against her thigh, encircles, and tightens the strap.  Reaching across, he flips her right ankle up against her right thigh, wraps, and secures that strap, forcing her thighs obscenely apart, her bare, shaven vagina spread, dripping her bodily fluids onto the bed sheet.

       Sensing he notices the slightest of moans, glancing toward the mask, he thinks he sees her hazed eyes flutter.  Reaching across her spread thighs, gripping her exposed clit between his thumbnails, fingernail, he twists, pinches.

       “Ahhhh!… Oomph!”  Obvious moans, grunts, he was right!

       Quickly reaching toward the hood, he flips the left, the right leather patches down across the eye slits, zipping them shut over her flicking brown eyes.

       Waking to pain, disoriented, confused, her eyes flutter against the stiff leather pressing against her face.  Struggling, twisting, jerking, she only feels the sharp pain wrecking her joints, quivering body.  Unable to see, hear, isolated in darkness, completely immobile, the bindings numbing her flesh, she has difficulty breathing, on the verge of hyperventilating.

       Her mind scrambles… She has to force herself to wake up… This has to be a nightmare!”

       He watches her lips quiver thru the slit, while her head twists, tilts in the bondage hood.  Reaching into the satchel, he digs out a bright red, hard rubber “O” ring with a black thin tie.  Roughly gripping the side of the hood, twisting, tugging, he forces the “O” ring between her spreading lips, presses them painfully between the black leather, red rubber, prying her mouth open, wide open.

       “Agghhhh… Oooooohhh!!!… Humph!”  Grunting, groaning, sobbing, she feels the rubber stretching her lips, the leather suppressing them.

       Forcing her lips into a near circle, he gives a couple more twists, releases the mask, enjoying the sounds of her discomfort.

       “Aaaaaahhhh!.… Ahhhh!… Aaahhh!!!”  All she can do is moan inaudible sounds, whimpering from her stretched lips, finally forming that perfect circle.

       “One more item to complete her looks, he thinks to himself, reaching, searching in the satchel for it.  Smiling to himself he lifts shinning, silver, plug shaped sphere from that handy satchel.  Gripping it in his left hand, he twists, twirls it between his fingers.  Four or so inches thick at its widest, it’s just a little longer, with a flat end, appearing to be made of crystal.  It’s the perfect butt plug for her anus.

       Stepping alongside the bed, he positions himself even with her spread thighs.  Slowly reaching down, enjoying every moment, he slowly rolls the plug across her hollowed stomach, her soaked bellybutton.  Moisture collecting on the crystal surface, he slips it down over her shaven pubic mound, across her parted labia lips.  Scrapping across the nub of her clit, across the membrane separating her quivering holes, he positions the round end of the plug across the rim of her anus.

       Void of the ability to comprehend what’s happening, her hips reflexively twitch from the sensation.  Her heart pounds, the pain of her tortured body mounting with every forced breath.

       Pointing the plug directly toward her anus, he shoves, hard, one firm ramming motion.

       “Plop!”  An actual sucking sound as the plug disappears completely into her moist anus.

       “Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!!… Aaaaaggggggghhhh!!!”  Screaming, bucking, she feels her anus stretching, surely tearing, her insides swelling, engulfed with a thick, hard object, pain encompassing her entire body.  Her mind hazes, she feels dizzy, about to lose consciousness.

       Taking a step back, he glances down, barely able to see the flat round surface, the diameter of a silver dollar, glistening, twitching between her butt cheeks.  A thought quickly crosses his mind… What can she possibly be thinking?

       Glancing around, looking against the wall, he sees a wooden chair.  Sliding it against the bed, he sits, places his satchel still full of countless devices next to him.  Watching her twitching, glistening, naked body, bound on the bed, impossibly bent, contorted, he thinks to himself, he can relax, take his time, and enjoy his work.  Listening to her moans, sobs, the sound of the rain tapping across the closed window, he has all night, all weekend, as he bends over, looks in the bag.

End Part Two