 |
|||
|
|
THE FUNHOUSE
Tracy’s led to the basement chamber for a closed circuit broadcast workout ahead of the Oriental girls.
Chapter Six
A number of guests in the parlor focus their attention on the pair of bound Oriental girls along with the brunette and redhead, all naked and being displayed by their Masters. Tracy on the other hand’s being directed toward the lower chamber, still wet and cold with her abused breasts stinging, marred with thin tracings of the now removed elastic bands sadistically snapped across her cold, damp globes by a number of the guests as the Madam amusingly mingled with the group. Shuffling ahead of the Madam and her contingent of guests to the lower level, still struggling in her stilettos with her arms raised obediently behind her head, her fingers interlocked behind her neck, she finds herself being directed into what appears to be multiple settings of bondage and porn backdrops in separately prepared areas of the vast chamber.
Cameras, props and lighting apparatuses are surrounded by dark, sound resistant padding over virtually all the area’s walled surfaces. Led past the first few smaller, unattended layouts, a larger studio setting dominates the rear portion of the chamber. Behind a large partition, it’s modeled to a lesser scale for a studio audience as several inclined rows of theater seating raises from the stage up to the glass divider of a control booth. A walkway above the rear row of seats holds currently manned camera equipment focused on the stage. The podium itself appears rather stark with just a large glistening stainless steel ring apparatus mounted in the center of the floor.
Directed up onto the stage, Tracy’s turned over to a waiting pair of ominous black hooded, shirtless men. As the Madam climbs the steps to the control booth, the muscular men turn their submissive victim around in front of the center of the ring. Wasting no time, while one raises her arms above her head and fastens leather cuffs connected to cables loosely unreeled from the tubular ring around both her wrists; the other spreads her ankles as he kneels, cuffing them to leather restraints also connected to cables extracted from the ring.
One of the men emphatically watches Tracy’s trembling body, her dark thick nipples jiggling as her naked breasts sway out across her arched torso, her flattened stomach and thighs quivering as the other looks, nods toward the control booth. The whirring sound of the cables withdrawing, disappearing through eyelets into the ring echo across the stage as her arms and legs begin to slowly stretch outward, further apart. Her naked body spreading, lifting inside the huge circle of steel, she’s drawn into a spread-eagled position as she apprehensively faces the mingling audience, some still finding their seats.
On stage one of the men slides his open hand across her forehead, jerks her head back while the other forces a bright red ball gag between her yawning lips, shoving it deep into her mouth before crisply fastening the black straps behind her neck. As her naked body bows back, her torso thrusts further outward, her melon sized globes swaying, bouncing back and forth above her taut defined ribcage as her hollowed stomach noticeably rises and lowers with each labored breath. The upper curves of her full breasts along with the front sides of her painfully spreading thighs shimmer under the stage lighting glaring down from the rafters. The first few rows of seats already completely filled, others still enter the studio as the muscular, shirtless men step across the stage, her preparation complete. Crossing their arms they position themselves to either side of the large oval, silently staring up toward the glass partition.
Up in the control booth, hands on the controls to the stainless steel ring the Madam watches through the glass divider along with her husband as the clock on the wall approaches the top of the hour. Glancing across the monitors, the several angles of the stage, Tracy’s naked body’s covered from every angle. On cue the lights dim over the audience. The closed circuit production takes to the air, on her body extended inside the loop, on the shirtless men still virtually motionless while sinisterly standing to either side. The multiple images continue to flick across the monitors in the booth as the hour long production begins.
Adjusting a couple levers, the Madam carefully watches as the eyelets gripping the cables slides across the inner side of the ring forcing Tracy’s arms and legs to slowly spread wider apart as her image on the close up camera shot contorts and stretches. As the cables adjust, her spread-eagled arms and legs draw closer on either side of her until her hands and feet are just a foot or so apart as her back bows, her breasts jaunting outwards. Her arms and legs straightened exert an immediate almost unbearable pressure on her shoulders and thighs as her whimpers ripple through the front row or two of the audience. Her head twisting back and forth, side to side, her panicking eyes glaring back and forth toward the chaffing cuffs, the whimpers become louder grunts, her glistening body tight and taut inside the circumference of the glistening circle of steel.
Adjusting the controls, momentarily halting the cable’s movements, the Madam checks the different angles of Tracy’s tortured body being displayed across the monitors. Concentrating on the close ups of her joints dangerously close to the verge of dislocating, the central shot of her heaving breasts spreading wide apart on her arching torso below her agonized expression of pain, the Madam smiles toward her husband. Another barely noticeable nudge on the lever, yet another and even another causes Tracy’s glistening body to virtually vibrate, her muscles, tendons bulging under her taut shimmering skin as her head flails back, her fingers clinching open and shut in her fists, her nails digging into her palms.
Grunting, saliva trailing down from the corners of her gagged mouth, glaring pleadingly up toward the control booth as she feels like she’s being split apart, Tracy barely catches a glimpse of the Russian stepping inside the booth, stepping beside, leaning over the Madam as she fingers the controls. Numbly staring, she watches the surreal scene of the glassed in booth above the filling seats of spectators, of the Russian grinning as he slips his hand across the Madam’s, presses the handle. Feeling the four ends of the cables tightening even further, the creaking of her burning, stretching joints pulsing in her ears as she borders on the edge of losing consciousness, her head twitches, slumps forward as a trickle of urine spurts across the bottom of the ring’s mount.
The Madam smiles with sadistic satisfaction toward Tracy’s torture, then the Russian as she flips his hand away, releases the lever, finally halting the tugging of the cables. A matter of a minute or so of quick conversation and the door to the control room reopens, the Russian quickly stepping out. His shaven head glistening, his muscles rippling as he slips his wife beater t-shirt across his shoulders, over his head, he takes the steps two, three at a time past the swelling group of guests as he makes his way to the stage. Stepping between the other muscular men, actually making them appear somewhat smaller in comparison, he glares into Tracy’s welling eyes as he lays one hand across her spread thighs, lifts her chin with his other. Glancing from one breast to the other, both reflexively quivering across her taut torso, her flattened nipples eye level to him, he tilts his face forward and slowly laps his tongue upward across the bottom curve of her damp left globe, up across her twitching nipple.
Her head tilted forward in his palm, staring glassy eyed past his hand, she terrifyingly watches the tan puffy mound of her areola disappearing between his puckered lips as he sucks inward. The pressure of his uneven teeth sliding across the nub of her nipple, grinding across her fleshy areola, sinking into her tit flesh resonates throughout her chest as her heart pounds, her stomach churning with apprehension. Moaning, her eyes pleading, she catches a glimpse of his eyes as he glances upwards as his head tilts back, his teeth still tugging, stretching at her bare breast.
Feeling his fingernails sliding off her stretched leg, his fingers slipping up between her gaping thighs, she reflexively jerks as his thumb plunges knuckle deep into her spread slit. His finger probing, poking across the rim of her rectum, she again bucks as his fingernail scrapes the sensitive flesh between her orifices, sinks inward to the second knuckle as his thumb twists against her clit. Her body reverberating inside the loop of the glistening circle of steel, trembling, flexing as her wrists and ankles chaff in the leather cuffs, she feels her breast slipping from his mouth as she quickly glances toward the impressions of his jagged teeth circling her saliva soaked areola.
Glancing toward the top of his glistening bald head as he slowly tilts it forward she feels both his hands between her stretched thighs. The crown of his hot shaft slapped up across her obscenely exposed vagina after he slips his trousers toward his knees and cups one hand around his cock, she feels his other hand slide between her buttocks spreading, parting the folds of her labia with his fingers as the pulsing head of his manhood rams upward, thrusts harshly inside her gapping slit.
His swelling shaft pounds in once, twice, a third and forth time, each a little harsher, deeper, tearing at her spreading vagina, grinding and pressing against the stretching membranes searing inside her vagina walls a fifth and sixth time, the pulsing knob pressing past her navel, impaling her seemingly to clear up into her very womb. Almost oblivious to the tortuous pains he’s inflicted on her already, just as harshly he jerks his hips back, his shaft slipping from the tightness of her moist, stretched vagina. Gripping the tops of both her thighs, forcing his open palms downward, ramming her spread thighs down across his throbbing shaft, he again rams completely inward as he rises on his tiptoes, again his cock impaling her spreading, stretching slit as her head twists back and forth. Her pitiful, pleading grunts rasp through the drool dripping from the glistening ball gag, unintelligible bursts spraying specks of saliva from the corners of her stretched mouth.
Again harsh thrust after harsh thrust as her taut body flexes in the strict bindings, his powerful grip dragging her spread thighs firmly downward before letting her buttocks spring upwards over and over as he releases his hands between each thrust. More loud unintelligible grunts as her head jerks forward, sideways, back and forth, the leather cuffs scraping the tender, raw flesh of her ankles and wrists. A final vicious tug downward on her trembling thighs coincides with a noticeable snapping sound as she screams through the gag, slumps. Holding momentarily still, he releases his grip her naked, unconscious body.
Stepping back around the ring, his still throbbing cock swaying, glistening fluid dripping from his manhood, he straddles her spread buttocks. Again gripping her thighs from behind, he slams his glistening shaft up between her stretched legs. Her unconscious body reflexively quivers as his thick shaft tears past the sphincter surrounding her rectum, tearing deep into her anus, then out again as he rams three, five, over nine inches deep in harsh, quick repeated thrusts. Perspiration drips, glistens across her taut naked body as her breasts flail side to side below her slumping head, her matted hair swaying back and forth as her chin brushes across her sternum, saliva streaking out from the ball gag, tracing across her naked torso.
Continuing to assiduously watch from the booth, again keeping an eye toward the monitors, the Madam rests a hand on the controls. The close up view from behind, from down on the floor catches her eye, his crimson shaft repeatedly impaling her anus, traces of blood dripping from between her impossibly split thighs with each sadistic thrust past the tearing rim of her rectum. One more quick flick of her wrist, the cables tense ever tighter, noticeably contorting Tracy’s drawn extremities to the verge of dislocating as her head jerks back, twists forward across her sweat drenched chest as semiconscious, her muffled screams seem almost animalistic.
Even more forceful thrusts as he gruffly shoves his hands around her ribcage between her tortured arms and legs. Gripping and twisting her supple breasts, tugging them back along her sides, his legs begin to noticeably tremble, then shake. Another thrust and yet another deep inside her bleeding rectum and his head jerks back, his grunts echoing through the audience as his throbbing shaft explodes his load deep inside her ripping orifice. A couple more halting strokes, a couple more grunts and his body relaxes.
Slowly withdrawing, stepping back, his nearly nude body beads with perspiration as his swaying semi erect shaft drips his crimson tinged sperm across his thighs, dribbles on the floor as he slips up his black leather trousers. Stepping aside, glancing toward the control booth, he nods. Hearing the whirring sound behind him, glancing back toward the steel ring, he watches as the cables slowly slacken. Tracy’s arms and legs not quite as taut, her body slightly slumps forward. Breasts gently swaying, seamen, blood, urine mixed together dripping from her orifices, her naked body glistens under the lighting as the other pair of men step beside her.
Gripping her arms as the cable continues to slacken, letting her body slump forward; one unfastens her ankles, the other her wrists as they grip the cuffs still shackled to her wrists and ankles and carry her from the stage. The Russian silently watching, glances toward the entrance, toward the Oriental girls being led in, their arms still strictly bound behind their backs, their ornamented bare breasts glistening as they thrust outward like firm, ripe melons. Glancing toward the steel ring, back toward the pair of Oriental men leading them up onto the stage, he nods toward the steel ring with an appreciative smile.
End Part 6
|
|
|