Lonna

LONNA

Part Four

Her excursion into the woods takes a turn.

Chapter One

       Arched back, arms, shoulders virtually numb as she struggles to lessen the tension of her stretching breasts, her fingernails retrace the scraped grooves in the dirt in the shadows beneath her.  Long minutes passing, grunting, struggling, the ropes stretching upwards alternate from lax to taut as her naked body twists, contorts under the rising sunlight glaring down across her glistening torso through the underbrush’s clearing.  Pushing upwards in her exhausted daze, trying to press her arms closer together, to lock her elbows beneath her arching back, to form some sort of reprieve for her tortured, discolored globes, her entire body uncontrollably trembles in periodic spasms in her inverted suspension as she desperately realizes she’s surly losing her painful struggle.

       Deep, rasping breaths, the scorching sun still rising; many longer, agonizing minutes tick slowly by.  Head tilted back, her tangled hair scraping through the twigs, the clumps of grass beneath her, the last bit of strength in her trembling shoulders finally giving out, her arms shuddering for the final time, her strained arms become limp as her sweat drenched body slumps downward, the ropes creaking as her quivering breasts stretch upwards from her glistening chest.  The thick nubs of her nipples bulging from the binding twigs clamped across her stretched areolas, the outlines of blue veins crisscross beneath her near translucent tit flesh.  Semi-conscious, eyes fluttering, saliva drooling, dripping from the corners of her yawning lips, the pulsing pain in her chest thumps with each heartbeat, her hollowed stomach rippling with each harsh breath leading up to a final shudder before her naked body droops, limply sways in the creaking ropes.

       A few minutes, a few more, the sounds of footsteps return, the parting branches crackling, the brush bending as he steps beside her, examines her nearly unconscious body.  Flicking a couple of the ropes, running a hand across her glistening flesh, feeling the tautness of her stretched breasts, her clamped nipples, he unties the ropes from each roughly forged nipple clamp, lets her body slowly sway by her roped ankles.  Unfastening the final rope, letting her body gently down to curl across the ground, picking her up, tossing her up across his shoulder, he carries the limp hundred and fifteen pounds back out the path.

Chapter Two

       Awakening, or possibly hallucinating, Lonna finds herself emerged in the warm, soapy water of a large white porcelain bathtub.  The streams of water pulsing, crisscrossing beneath the mounds of scented white soapy bubbles encircling her, the sensation’s intoxicating as the massaging spurts of water surrounds her submerged body.  The nape of her neck pressed back across a soft sponge like cushion next to a half filled cup, glancing around, the shadowed surrounding’s actually extravagant, in stark contrast with the wooded campsite while again she wonders if she’s dreaming, hallucinating as she feels the rippling water splashing gently beneath her chin, the taste of the soapy bubbles flicking across her parted lips.

       Utterly exhausted, glancing down through her hazed eyes, the foamed water rippling between her bare globes gently rising and lowering with the pulsing flow, she realizes her outstretched arms lay immobile across either rim as she starts to flick the bubbles from around her mouth.  Unable to move her hands for some reason, yet having feelings in both, trying to sit upright, somehow unable too, she feels helpless, confused as her eyes dart from one arm to the other.

Confused, anxious, she settles helplessly back, the soreness, the aches from the bindings still noticeable but considerably less painful as she glances down toward her bobbing breasts, the aching nipples buoyantly floating above the soapy bathwater as the gentle streams of water pulses out the aligned nozzles from below.  Taking yet another disoriented glance around her surroundings, the steam rising in ripples from the tub just adds to the surreal scene as she tries again, yet seems to be unable to move, to even twist.

       Her chest pounding as again she attempts to grip the sides of the tub, to sit upright, once more she can only lean helplessly back.  Trying to think, to gather her thoughts as to what’s happening to her, where she’s at, struggling to even glance around, she realizes she’s in an obviously expansive master bathroom.  White tiled walls, leaded stained-glass window high above the tub, she notices a large free standing etched glass enclosed shower stall in the corner, even an apparently enclosed commode off to the side, past the vanity.  All the trimmings, including dark oversized matching bath towels adjoining one another from pewter racks, she can’t help wondering if she’s actually still bound, hanging in the clearing, her mind just playing tricks on her in her anguished, exhausted state.

Eyes barely opened in slotted squints, her mind seems foggy, yet somewhat mentally alert in contrast to her physical capabilities.  Posed as she is to lean back with her legs spread at the bottom of the tube, the sensation of warm, soothing water spurting directly across her bare pubic mound’s titillating as she remains virtually motionless.  Trying to remain calm, a couple slow blinks, she allows her eyes to completely close as she listens to the mesmerizing cadence of the underwater pulsing jets while sensing the corresponding spurts of water massaging her naked flesh.  Obviously too exhausted to really rationalize her predicament, bordering on unconsciousness, she allows her mind to drift, the sound of the bathroom door opening almost shielded by the rippling bathwater.

The steam thick enough to swirl in waves as her eyes again barely squint open, noticing the silhouette of a person approaching, not even initially realizing it’s the Oriental girl stepping closer, she hazily watches the nude girl kneeling, feels her bare breasts spreading out across her unflinching arm.  Without a word being spoken, a large sponge plunged in the water, Lonna feels the girl pressing the soaked sponge across her breasts, down across her submerged stomach, back across both breasts.  The hot foamy water streaming across her bare flesh, the sponge plunged deeper into the water, pressed between her spread thighs; she feels the girl’s breast brush across her cheek as she leans further across the tub above her.

More gentle scrubbing, the sponge manipulated across her most sensitive flesh, Lonna’s mind meanders, allows the sensations to ripple throughout her submerged body.  Accepting the sensual massage as the firm, olive toned melons brushing back and forth in front of her face, the sound of the swirling water, the splashing of the sponge, the coos of the girl’s soft whimpers mixes with the sensations of her own nipples hardening, her clit tingling as they respond to the sopping sponge caressing her pampered flesh.

Eyes again flicking closed, even the lids feeling heavy, drifting in and out of reality, the room seems to slowly spin, the surreal experience fading from misting shadows to darkness as the girl steps away.    

“Lonna?”  The masculine voice soft, almost quiet, again her mind roams, drifts between consciousness and unconsciousness while her body remains utterly relaxed, soaking, being massaged by the warm, swirling streams of water.

“Lonna!”  Louder, yet not overbearing, or even threatening, her eyes barely opening, she glances up through the steam, the shirtless hiker’s image kneeling beside the tub, his hand reaching for the cup beside her head.

“Time to get you dried off… You’ve been in there for over an hour since the girl left you.”  Again his voice just above the sound of the pulsating water, she feels his other hand lifting her neck forward, her body still unresponsive as he raises the half filled cup toward her lips while ordering, “But first, finish this, you’ve already drank half of it.”

Tilting her head back, the bitter liquid overflowing her parted lips, he explains, “Your husband’s had a hand in your treatment from day one, you know.”  Smiling as he continues to kneel in front of her, emptying the solution from the cup, he continues, “He’s picked a couple storylines from the author’s list, then added another of his own fantasy to put you through… Just to let you know, the excursion and episodes into the woods were mainly all his ideas.”

Gently lifting her from the tub in his strong arms, the water dripping across the tile floor, he cradles her naked body against his bare chest as he carries her from the bathroom, again her head tilting back, her body limp, her mind in a haze as the darkness returns.

Chapter Three

A rancid whiff of a capsule beneath her nostril, another, and another, barely able to blink, glancing toward him through her blurred eyes, hardly noticing his muscular, naked body in her confused state, she feels the leather straps crisscrossing beneath her own bare buttocks along with the gentle motion of the suspended sling.  Thighs partially spread in a seated position, her shoulders arched back, the sensation of the chocker collar holding her upright her only binding, she finds herself mentally alert.  Attempting to reach up for the collar, realizing she possesses feelings in her extremities, yet somehow still the impossibility of movement, even as much as twitching her fingers or toes, she feels her stomach knotting, the sense of dread as her eyes dart around.

“Good!... You’re finally fully awake,” he smiles as he steps in front of her.  “You’re in the process of duplicating parts of one of the scenes of the most popular story of the author’s… Actually, the initial very first chapter of ‘The Nanny,’ if you recall that tale.”

Able only to stare forward, she anxiously listens to him speaking in his soft tone as he reaches out, lifts her right hand, lets it drop toward her side.  Her other arm lifted, feeling it also slipping from his grasp, she hears his voice continuing.  “I think you’ll recall it soon enough.”  Feeling her arms dropped, brush limply across the leather straps to either side, still unable to raise them, she frantically watches as he kneels in front of her.

Cupping a bare breast in one hand, patting her freshly shaven pubic mound with the other, he continues, “This’ll mimic the story, but it’s going to actually be the real deal… You’re about to experience a number of positions involving pain… Mostly with these big ‘ol melons poking out here at me.”  Glancing down, sliding a fingertip back and forth just above her vagina, he adds, “And of course with this nice tight slit between these legs…  And, as much as you’ll want to try, you’ll be unable to prevent anything being done to you.  Just like in that story if you remember.”

Barely able to follow him with her widening eyes as he stands, steps around the suspended apparatus gently swaying from the rafter, her naked body tingling all over, she feels the queasiness deep inside as she recalls the intense details of that chapter of the story she remembers so well, one of her husband’s favorites.  Realizing, yet not wanting to believe what she’s facing, she senses the caressing touch of his fingers across her shoulders, stroking her hair, massaging her back, the tingling sensations of his fingertips seemingly multiplied with each deliberate touch of her bare flesh.  Immobile, remembering back to thinking at the time of reading the story that it wasn’t possible to do that to someone; she again nervously struggles for any kind of movement, without success.

       Gently twisting with the motion of the sling, feeling his fingertips gliding across her chin, her mouth spread open, his finger, thumb gently tugging at the tip of her tongue before releasing it, she quietly moans, unable to resist.  Realizing she can’t even slip her tongue back in between her parted lips, she senses a trickle of saliva drooling across her chin as her motionless body tingles all over, not unlike a million exposed nerve endings.  Barely able to grunt, just a shallow moan as she unsuccessfully struggles to move, to twist, to wiggle a finger or even a toe, the quickening pattern of her heartbeat pounds throughout her ears, her body as she watches him ominously open a satchel in front of the swaying sling.

       “Yeh,” he smiles as he slides a folding canvas chair in front of her, sits across it as he glances down into the black leather bag between his feet.  “Let’s start right off with these tits of yours, these impressive tits,” he instructs as he holds the swaying sling steady in front of him with one hand, glances toward her bare breasts jaunting outward at eye level.  “By the way, how’d you like pressing these melons against that young Oriental girl’s rack?... Hers are almost as impressive as yours, aren’t they?... Yea, I heard your nipples got all hard while they bumped together with hers while at the club the other night, I’d liked to have seen that, but, this will do for now… Maybe later I’ll suspend the two of you by your tits again and watch for myself.”

       Listening to his jibber, nervously glancing down toward his hands, watching the top of his head slowly nodding back and forth while speaking to her, a pair of dark leather fingerless gloves pulled from the satchel as he slips one on at a time, she sees the shimmering palms appear to contain rows of perforations.  Watching him stretch the leather tightly up toward his wrists, flexing his fingers, the reflections from his palms sparkling, she realizes the perforations contains what appears to be a series of short, razor thin needles.  Struggling to resist, to protect herself, sensing her body trembling, she can feel her stomach rippling, her breasts quivering as again she can barely grunt with each rasping breath while she sits helpless, frantically watches as he reaches across toward her, cups the under globes of her outthrust breasts.

       “Oomph!”  The sensation of the rows of needles pressing into, lifting up her globular tit flesh while sinking in, brings a moan along with the slightest of a twitch of her torso as another stream of saliva trickles across her sternum.  Blinking her eyes, the rows of pins prickling at her ultra sensitive flesh, his hands cupping shut, she feels the tenseness of the collar across her throat holding her upright as her naked body reflexively quivers in his grip.

       “How’s this feel?  Not as sensual as that girl’s tits flattening against ‘em I bet,” he stoically asks as he melds, fondles her already slightly discolored mounds, glances into her pleading eyes, glances toward her limp arms, dangling legs, their reflexive tremors.  “Hey, we’re just starting; it’s going to be a long day… And night,” he adds as he slips his bare thumb tips across the nubs of her dark nipples, again softly squeezes his fingers together beneath her spreading breasts while he lifts, guides the globes apart.

       “Oomph!... Oomph!”  Again a series of reflexive spasms as the surrounding leather sling creaks against her bare buttocks, the scores of light pinpricks circling her already aching globes seeming more like sharp skewers to her ultra sensitive flesh being stretched apart in the devilish gloves as she sits limply upright. “Oomph!”

       “You know,” he nods as he gently flicks a nipple, watches it actually shrink, harden into a nub, “You’re husband said of all the tales, you seemed to physically fit the appearance of the girl in the ‘Nanny’ story, and know what?... I have to agree, I think he’s right.”

Continuing the massage of her breasts with the gloves, the pinpricks still barely penetrating the firm flesh of the globular mounds, he occasionally glances toward her glazed eyes, sees the frustration, the anxiety behind the widening brown pupils.  Sensing her naked body reflexively quivering time and again, hearing her pleading, rasping moans, he thinks of when he wrote the story, fantasizing what it would actually feel like to have a woman in that situation, and now he’s finding out.  Another twist, another tug and he slips his hands away, begins sliding the gloves off one at a time.

Glancing down into the satchel, rummaging inside toward the bottom, he asks, “You do recall the story, don’t you?”  Pulling out a long, glistening skewer, holding it upright just in front of her face, he smiles at the expression in her darting eyes.  “You know what this is, I bet.”

Her eyes widening, her body noticeably quivering, almost trembling, even the slightest of a sway from the creaking leather sling as he holds the razor sharp point just inches from her cheek, he again smiles, holds the chair steady with his free hand.  Glancing toward the tip of the skewer, he speaks, “Those gloves were just a minor annoyance… This is the real thing.”  Gazing into her pleading eyes, flicking the tip of the needle downward, letting it drag across the rounded mound of her left breast to rest against the thickened nub, he adds, “You’ve got a pretty good idea where its going to be used, don’t you?”

“Oomph!... Oomph!...... Oomph!”  Grunts, moans, her eyes dart back and forth, her bare breasts quivering as even the tips of her fingers twitch.

“Look at that,” he nods as he reaches out with his free hand, grips her left hand.  Lifting, spreading his fingers between hers, he feels just the slightest of a tremor as he raises her arm.  Glancing into her welling eyes, letting the pointed tip tilt inward, indent the edge of her nipple, he feels the sling’s movement as her legs quiver, barely sway.  “See there, you can move a little if you really exert yourself, can’t you?... Come on, try for me or your clit’s next.”

“Oomph!... Oomph!”

Listening to her whining, sensing the fear, the anguish, even the frustration obviously overwhelming her, he slides the needle away from her breast, drags it down across her sternum past her ribcage.  Letting the tip trace across her flattening stomach, circle her bellybutton, he flicks the tip a couple taps across her pubic mound before letting the point gently spread a fold of her labia away from her clitoris.  Sensing her fingers quivering, trying to squeeze his, he again glances up toward her pleading eyes, a tear streaking down off her cheek.  He smiles to himself at the sight of the tip of her tongue still spread across her lower lip, just a tinge of salvia drooling down her chin, dripping.

“Good, since you seem to be able to move a little, let’s see something,” he suggests as he slips his hand from hers, lets her arm drop to her side.  Slipping his free hand beneath the sling, probing a finger up between the leather straps, he lets his fingernail glide between her labia, slide upward inside her slit.  Slipping a knuckle, two knuckles past the skewer, he senses the moistness of her vagina, the elastic, moist wall tight across his finger.

“Squeeze your cunt.” Glancing again up into her frantic eyes, letting the tip of the skewer probe ever so menacingly against the soft flap of her labia, slide closer toward her clitoris, he repeats, “Squeeze!... Squeeze my finger with that tight little cunt of yours, or do you want me to pierce your clit with this instead?... Now do it!”

“Oooommmopphhh!”  Eyes darting back and forth, feeling the pointed needle pressing against her sensitive flesh, her moan’s more of a pleading whimper while the sling almost tilts, rocks as she again grunts, “Oooommmphhh… Oooomppphhhh!”

Sensing the slightest of a tremor, the noticeable forced quiver around his finger with each of her barely audible grunts, pressing a second finger in, both fingers side by side, slipping them in deeper while pressing the tip of the skewer menacingly against her exposed clit, he orders, “Squeeze that pussy around my fingers like you’re fucking ’em!… Concentrate!”

“Uumph!... Ahhhhhhhh!”  Her throat straining against the collar with the rest of her naked body limp on the sling, feeling his fingers spreading inside her, she struggles, tries to flex her vagina.  Feeling the threatening tip of the skewer pressing against her defenseless clit, she feels the tears tracing down her cheek, mixing with the drooling saliva dripping from the tip of her tongue between her parted lips as she struggles to obey, to concentrate, to will herself to grip his fingers between her thighs.  “Oooommmppphhh!”

“That’s a little better… I guess,” he chuckles as he flicks his fingers, twists, jams them in and out a couple times.  “Still not gripping very tight though… Maybe you need something bigger, thicker in there… I know, feel like actually fuckng me?... If I slide the chair closer and stick my cock in you, think you can squeeze it?... Or should I go ahead and pierce you down here?”

“Oomph…. Ooooommmpppphh!”  More grunts as she feels the skewer pricking into the nub of her clit.  Whimpering, eyes blinking as she unsuccessfully struggles to nod even as she continues to tense her vagina and grip his probing fingers, the sling again sways beneath her limp body.

Slipping his fingers slowly out, lowering the skewer, he kneels in front of her, cups a quivering breast.  Glancing at the firm mound as he lifts, twists, observing the slight rash of pinpricks, he holds the tip of the skewer against the nub of the nipple.  “Just to let you get a good feel of what this will do before I stick my dick in you, I think I’m going to pierce your nipples before you give me the best fuck you’ve ever gave,” he quietly speaks as he sinks the very tip of the glistening metal into the side of her nipple, barely, just barely piercing the skin.  Glancing directly into her dark, welling eyes, he listens to her forced moan as a trace of blood drips from her nipple.

“Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhhhh!”

Sensing the skewer piercing her flesh between his gripping fingers, watching the sharp tip disappearing into the edge of the hardened nub, he stops, backs it off, grins, “There… Not so bad huh?”

“Oooooommmmpppphhh!... Aaaagggghhhh!”

Listening to her whimpering moans, watching her eyes roll back, blink, tears streak down and drip across her bare chest, he slips the skewer slowly back, holds the crimson tinged end up toward her terrified eyes as he continues to grip her pulsing breast, sensing the pounding of her heartbeat through his tightening fingers.  Pressing the tip close to her lips, he rolls it playfully across her protruding tongue as he speaks, “Now, tell you what… “We’re going to fuck now, and if you make me cum I won’t pierce that tit all the way through, okay?... Now start flexing, get ready to fuck me and I’ll put this down, okay?”

“Uumph!... Uuuummmpphhh!” Quivering, fingertips barely flexing, toes reflexively curling as she attempts to nod, her stomach ripples as her body twitches in the straps.  The collar holding her upright, chaff marks across her throat, her legs, arms sway from the sides of the leather sling as her chest pounds, the pain searing through her punctured breast dripping another droplet of bright red blood across her bare thigh.

Dropping the skewer in the satchel, slipping the chair closer, sliding his bare thighs beneath the sling, he spreads her knees across his legs.  Spreading the straps a little wider beneath her buttocks, aligning his swollen shaft between her spread labium, pressing the crown into the moist slit, he arches back as he penetrates an initial couple inches.  The tautness of her vagina encompassing his shaft, her thighs resting across his with the straps sandwiched in between, he thrusts upwards once more, inward another couple inches while he leans back, grips the edge of his chair on either side as he holds still, feels the warmth, the moist glove like sensation tensing around his manhood as her naked body reflexively trembles.

About eye level with her thrust out breasts, the dark nipples spreading, barely jiggling between her arms drooping limply toward her sides, her curled fingers lying across the tops of his legs, he feels her feet brushing across his calves as the sling slightly sways back and forth, rocks.

“Okay,” he orders, “Now flex that cunt; make me feel it grip my cock good and tight.”

“Oomph…… Oomph…………Oomph!”  Forced grunts, her thighs barely but noticeably tense above his as her stomach ripples with each breath, her pubic mound twitching; her feet slightly swaying in mid air as the leather strapped chair creaks from its supporting rope.  “Oomph… Oomph!”

Gliding in a tad further as he arches upwards, spreading, separating the puffy folds of her labium around his stretching foreskin, holding steady as his buttocks barely rises up across his canvas chair, he senses her spreading slit encompassing his pulsing cock, the twitching, the tensing of her tight, moist vagina gripping his throbbing shaft.  Again glancing upward into her dark, anxious eyes, contrasting with the almost blank expression on the rest of her face, he bows again, thrusts upwards again, grunts, “Grip it… Grip my cock tight… Now or I’ll dig out that skewer again!” 

“Ooommpphhh!... Oooommmppphh!”  Anxiously gazing downward, mounted on his cock burrowing up through the ribbed sling, thick and pulsing into her seemingly ultra sensitive vagina, the chocker collar holds her otherwise limp body upright.  Reflexive moans rasping out with each breath from her own sensations of his throbbing shaft impaling her correspond with her struggling attempts to squeeze, to grip his manhood with her overstretched vaginal muscles as he begins flexing, pumping in cadence.

“Ooommmppphh!... Ooommmppphhh!......... Ooommmpphh!”  Her rasps louder, the sensations of his pulsing cock ramming in and out, ravaging her stretching slit magnified, she senses her arms, legs freely swaying as her limp body straddles the creaking leather straps, her buttocks pressing against his thrusting hips as she bounces.

“You’re not cooperating, Lonna,” he grunts between thrusts, “I can’t feel you fucking me back!... I warned you!”

Eyes blinking, unable to focus as the suspended sling sways, rocks, she notices the naked Oriental girl stepping beside him, kneeling and reaching in the satchel, lifting her hand upwards with the glistening skewer tightly gripped in her fist.  “Oomph!... Oomph!”  Grunting, trying to force her thighs to grip, to flex around his pulsing shaft, the chocker collar chaffing her throat, Lonna’s heart pounds as her eyes lock on the girl reaching across him, gripping a swaying breast.  Feeling her fingernails digging into her titflesh, squeezing, trying to plead, to grunt, to flex her hips, she agonizingly watches as the girl presses the skewer against the puckering nub, senses the excruciating pain as she rams it inward.  “Aaaaaaagggggghhhhhhh!”   

END PART FOUR