PERSPIRATION
By V.P. Viddler
Perspiration.
Actually it was plain old sweat, but Bob always called it perspiration. It was
more feminine, he said. And he loved to watch it running down her body.
Particularly when she was like this, strung up by her wrists from the ceiling.
Standing on her toes. Body taut and straining. Breasts pulled up and out. Legs
shown to best advantage. All of her showing.
That's why he had turned off the air-conditioning on this hot July night. So he
could watch her body running with perspiration. And it was. Streams of it coming
down the smooth sensuous flesh. Down her back, down her breasts, down her long
luscious legs. And it coated her body, causing the blows on her skin to feel so
much more painful, as the slight coating of moisture lent a wicked stinging
quality to the already sharply agonizing cracking lashes of their belts.
How many were there? Abigail did not know. Bob had put the blindfold on long
before any guests had arrived, and it was on still. And would, she knew, remain
for the night. In utter darkness she could only stand there, hang there, waiting
for the next terrible blow across her flesh; never knowing when it was coming,
or from whom, or to what part of her body. Never able to prepare for it. Always
in a state of fearful, jumpy anticipation.
For hours she had stood this way.
And it was only the beginning, Abigail know. Only the start of a long,
exhausting, agonizing, humiliating, degraded, soul- grinding night.
"And you say she'll suck our cocks for us, too?" said a voice.
"Certainly," Bob's voice said smoothly. "Abigail will do anything I command. If
I command her to, she will suck all your cocks, all night long and far into the
morning. Isn't that right, Abigail?"
"Yes, Bob," she said immediately. "I will, Bob. Anything you say."
"You see?" she heard Bob say triumphantly.
"Christ," another voice said. "You got her trained like a puppy."
Abigail suddenly screamed in swift agony as out of nowhere a strap cracked
viciously across her breasts. For a long moment her body swung helplessly in the
air, twisting, flailing, kicking, finally coming to rest as Abigail gasped and
moaned in blind terror.
"Look at that," she heard. "Damn, I want that and I want it now."
"Abigail," Bob said. "This man wants to fuck you. Spread your legs for him."
Spreading her legs meant that she had to allow herself to hang unsupported from
her aching wrists, tightening the strain on her arms, tautening that body until
the skin stretched, and sticking her legs awkwardly out in the air, holding them
apart, showing them her soft, inviting cunt.
"Stay that way," Bob said, and she did, sobbing, gasping, forcing herself to
hold that position in the midst of pain and degradation and shame.
"Ask him," Bob said. "Nicely, Abigail. Ask us all."
"Please, sir," Abigail said in a shaking but clear voice. "Please fuck this
slut's body. Please, all of you, allow this whore to serve you. I will suck your
cocks and fuck you any way you wish. I will crawl for you. I will drink your
piss. Do anything to me."
"Tell us what you are, Abigail."
And Abigail, as a man stood in front of hre and stuck his cock up into her cunt,
as another stood behind her, pulling at her hair while his cock rammed into her
tiny asshole, said loudly, "I am a cocksucking piss-drinking slut whore cunt
slave and I am fit only to crawl and give pleasure."
Perspiration running down that soft supple magnificent hurting body as she heard
the scratch of a match being struck. Words turning to screams at the unseen
burning knifing at her nipple.
"AHH..."
